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merp0515 · 21 days ago

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Healing Past Scars Chapter 4 Coffee Shop Of Horrors

Summary: After the dealing with so many traumatic incidents, our beloved meme guardain boys have to come into terms with both past and present scars. Will they be able to conquer them with an iron fist or will those same wounds destroy them both?

Tags: Suicidal Thoughts,PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Healing , Developing Relationship

Link to chapter 3’s Tumblr version is here, Ao3 link is here, and Wattpad link is here

TW: The following story contains dark themes such as PTSD, and disturbing imagery.

If there was one thing Three had wished for, it would have been over 1,000 cups of coffee to keep him awake.

The tired male sighs as he was getting everything ready to open up his coffee shop for the day. Last night definitely wasn't exactly the best sleep he's gotten and after waking up from that nightmare, he wasn't able to go back to sleep. Eggdog was at one of the tables, helping his Dad get the shop ready but at the same time keeping a close eye on him in case he had a similar freak out from last night.

SMG3 was getting all the coffee beans out, ready to be used for the day. The small whiff of the grounds helped him relax a little. He closed his eyes for a moment to smell the fresh coffee beans he was going to use very soon. The bell to 3’s Coffee N' Bombs rang, making the guardian open his red eyes and see who appeared so early in the morning.

If Three could laugh at the person that just walked in he would one hundred percent. Especially by how tired they looked and definitely was about to pass out on his cafe floor.

“So I take it that the storm also had you go through a sleepless night?” He asked tiredly, not even bothering to try to tease the other male that sat on his counter and put his down exhausted as fuck.

“Says the one who hasn't realized he spilled his own coffee beans on himself.” His guardian companion and friend SMG4 mumbled under his breath.

The tired purple goth looks back at his opened coffee bag already half empty with most of the beans already on the floor. Three cursed under his breath as he put the bag on the counter where Four sat. He turns around and heads to the back to grab a broom, grumbling angrily as to how he's already done with the day and wants to go knock out on his bed again.

SMG4’s half lidded eyes observed his meme guardian partner from a far. A yawn escaped his lips as he raised his upper half from the counter to rub his blue eyes from exhaustion. He sits up a bit, stretching his upper body a bit to help wake himself up a bit and have that energy boost he's been needing since he got here.

SMG3 lazed his way to the backroom, getting the broom to clean up the mess he accidentally made earlier. A sigh escapes the man's lips as he grabs the cleaning item he needed to get it done and over it. His mind pondered back to the nightmare he had the night before. He groaned, annoyed wondering where the hell did that kind of vision even come from and how on earth did it even happen in the first place. He looks to a corner of the backroom and leaves the broom he previously grabbed and sets it at the corner so it doesn't fall. Three leans back at the wall, letting himself slide down to the floor. His red eyes drained from the lack of sleep. He closes his eyes for a moment wanting to take a mini nap before his work at the coffee shop begins.

Just a little nap couldn't hurt. That scrub will be fine with staying on the main floor alone for a bit without me, he thought to himself as he slowly drifted to sleep. The purple guardian hopes that with the nap he's getting, it'll be enough to help him regain his energy and go on with his day.

A soft windy breeze echoes around the male who is currently laying down in the field of grass at the Internet Graveyard. He sits up and stretches his arms, feeling refreshed from his nap in the outdoors. Three looks up to the clear sky blankly, his mind not fully processing what was going on. All of a sudden, his son with a cute little top hat appears from the wild to greet his Dad. He bounced on his lap and clicked happily, gaining the attention of the graveyard lord.

Three looks down to see his first child. A mixture of shock and confusion spreads across his face as he gently touches its face.

“Terrance?”he began, “My boy where have you been?” He asks the little creature staring at him blankly briefly before responding in its language. “You've been at home? As in back at the coffee shop?” The ex villain asks once more earning a single click. The little Uganda knuckles gets off his lap and tries to direct him to where the meme once appeared.

The purple lad gets up from where he was once resting to see where his top hat son will lead him at. Once Terrance saw his father get up, the meme led the way to their old home. The ruby eyed male made sure to be up to speed with his child as he found it strange that he was walking a little quicker than usual.

As he was distracted on catching up to his deceased son, the air around him started to become colder, clouds started to form together as if it wanted to rain. Three senses something wrong in the air the minute he was seeing the sky get darker than usual.

Terrance clicks with glee as he charges full speed towards the thing that was waiting for them at the coffee shop. SMG3 gasps and he runs behind the speedy meme to stop him from accidentally hurting another being there. Out of breath Three managed to catch up to the little derpy knuckles and saw a familiar egg shaped meme. It was his other son, Eggdog. The little egg shaped dog looked at them both and barked happily at them. Terrance happily clicks to his dad signaling that his other brother was here waiting for the two of them.

“Eggdog! I'm so glad your her-”

Thunder roars loudly causing all three of them to jump in fear from the sudden noise. Eggdog whimpers, fearing the loud thunder and runs to his father to seek comfort. The Uganda knuckles followed his brother as well, startled by the noise as well. Three hugs both boys close comforting them so they don't feel scared anymore. Rain started to pour down rapidly as Three and his children were getting wet.

“Let's go inside. I don't want you two or myself getting sick from this weather.” SMG3 said as he walked to the front door of his old home and opened it carefully. Once inside, both meme children hopped away from Three and entered deep into the dark coffee shop.

“Terrance! Eggdog! Wait, I need to turn the lights on first! Don't run in the dark!” He shouted concern for his children as he followed the boys further into the dark building.

The further he was walking into the void, the more his anxiety was building up. The ex villain cursed under his breath as he was walking into the sea of nothingness. All he wants is to make sure BOTH of his children are safe from harm.

Clicks and barking are heard in the distance, Three takes the chance to run as fast as his legs could carry him to the sound of their voices. He didn't care that his legs were on fire and his breath was starting to sting his lungs, all he wanted was to see his kids. Small dots of red and white were spotted and the goth lad couldn't be anymore happier to have found them.The dark void slowly turned into the current home he was living in. Colors of dark blue and yellow illuminated his new home. Three looked around aimlessly as he was trying to stop himself from having a panic attack from pure worry.

He looks down, finally seeing his beloved boys. Both children had their backs turned on him which confused the meme guardian. Three reaches out to both sons in hopes of them noticing his presence. A gasp of horror was heard once both children turned around to face Three at the same time.

What once was the happy go lucky Eggdog turned into an egg shaped eldritch goope that he had fought with his friends back at Peach's castle. Eyes forming all around the little creature terrified the purple guardian. As for what was once Terrance, the Uganda knuckles had turned its own creepy eldritch version, with one eye with a big zero covering almost his entire face. The older meme child was a bit bigger than Eggdog's form as the red meme only had half of its body, its ribcage and a bit of its left arm showing his bones while the right arm had SMG0’s arm.

Three looked at the duo terrified. Ruby red eyes filled with fear and sadness seeing the horrified forms of both of his meme children. He backed away slowly, trying to get away from the nightmare in front of him. Little did the guardian know, that something was already awaiting him as he ran towards the front of the cafe.

Something had taken ahold of SMG3 and dragged him back towards the backroom of his cafe. Three tried with all his might to get away from the thing that grabbed him. It was surprisingly strong yet it wasn't doing any harm to him.

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” SMG3 shouted loudly as he felt his entire body shaking from fear. He didn't dare to open his eyes until he felt something hugs him tightly.

A gentle, yet strong warm embrace of something trying to bring him comfort. Three stopped resisting and gasped for air. He looked around his surroundings and saw that he was back at the corner where he was resting earlier. He looked at the corner of his eyes to his worried son and his pal beeg SMG4 staring at him concerned.

“Thank the memes you're awake! Your shouts startled us all and we went to check in on you to see if you were alright!” a familiar concerned voice spoke to Three. He looked at the source of the voice and it was none other than his meme guardian companion. His ocean eyes staring into his very soul. Three sighed in relief seeing the other male and smiled softly to him. Four smiled back, more awake than what he was earlier.

The two were like this for a while until Four’s alarm rang from his phone. Both snapped out of the trance they had and composed themselves.

“Damn it Three, don't scare us like that again!” Four stated, upset about the whole thing.

“Shut up Baka! I should be the one telling you that!” Three retaliated, a slight shade of pink forming on his checks. A bark from eggdog caught the attention of the two guardians. Three was shocked at eggdog’s comment.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I NEED REST?! I'm fine enough to function and work at my shop today!” SMG3 glares at his son. Eggdog growls in response knowing that his Dad is in dire need of rest. A little “ugh” from beeg SMG4 was heard. SMG4 crossed his arms, rolling his eyes.

“Beeg we've been over this. I'm already used to being up late at night working on my videos. I'll be alright. If it helps, I can help cover for SMG3 so he can get some rest.” SMG4 suggested earning a groan from SMG3.

“Oh no! You are NOT working at my cafe today! You were just as bad as I was earlier and almost looked like you were about to pass out on my floor!” Three exclaimed. Four glared at Three pouting at his response.

“As if you are any better! I can still smell the spilled coffee beans you left on the floor!” Four shot back, annoyed by Three's stubbornness.

“Listen here D tier scrub, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and my business so just go back to circus tent and go the fuck to sleep.”

“Fuck you Snitchy, I am not going anywhere! You need help running your shop! You literally look like shit! Did you even shower recently?!”

“Why the fuck do I need to answer that?! When the hell was the last time you actually drank water and ate something properly?! Have you actually touched grass aside from coming here every damn morning?!”

A loud siren alarm was heard, stopping both guardians from their tracks. A big hand grabbed the duo and dragged them down to Three's evil lair. Both males where struggling to break free from hand’s grasp.

Ding!

Both stopped trying to break free upon hearing the ding and were thrown to SMG3’s bed. Beeg SMG4 appears from the shadows with angry brows. Seconds later another ding of the elevator was heard and eggdog made his entrance not long after. Both meme parents glared at the duo before them. Eggdog was the first to break the silence. Three's eyes widened at his son's words and sighs sadly. Four looks at his sad friend. His once annoyed expression turned into a more concerned one. He turns back to his own kid. His short little “ugh!” was more than enough for him to give in and smiled at his son sadly.

“Alright you two. You guys win. We'll take a break from work today and try to catch up on sleep.” SMG4 gently spoke to the memechildren. Both boys made noises of glee, finally convincing their parents to rest. Three looks at Four, seeing the bags from his eyes really had him questioning how Four really has been doing as of recent. He flops down at his pillow, staring at the ceiling lost in thought. Eggdog and Beeg both jump to the bed to join the guardian duo to make sure they actually rest and bring them both comfort.

Both males smiled at their children. All they wanted was to give them some comfort and have them relax considering how stressful both must have appeared. Four flops to the other pillow and turns to face his son. He hugs the little guy close, feeling himself relax as he holds onto him. Eggdog snuggled closely to Three, the egg shaped dog wanted to make sure that his Dad knew he had someone here for him and loves him a lot. He could feel his Dad's stache tickle his fur earning a happy soft bark from the good noodle.

I'm so sorry for worrying you so much little one. I promise I'll do better for your sake. Both males internally spoke in their minds to their respective children as they slowly drifted to sleep once more in hopes of a better dream.

#smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #smg34fanart #smg4 fanart #smg3 fanart #smg4 fanfic #Healing Past Scars #merp #Smg4 fanfiction #tw dark themes #tw disturbing imagery #smg34 fanfiction #smg43

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permettez-moi · 3 months ago

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5. Alone

His mind still fuzzy from deep sleep, Will rolled over to the other side of the bed. The cold sheets worked like a cold plunge, waking him up immediately as the events of the previous day came back to him.

Fire, screams, the scent of burned flesh.

He buried his head in her pillow, not wanting to leave the bed yet, not wanting to face the unbearable truth just yet. As long as he lay here, he could pretend she got up early. Had a nightmare perhaps. The sweet hints of her perfume comforted him, in a way that should not hurt as much as it did. The knowledge that soon her smell would be gone, and nothing but his memory would be left. He felt a wave of nausea coming up, only just barely suppressed by closing his lips firmly. Jaw clenched.

The house was quiet, unusually so. Normally there would be soft and stinky morning kisses, words grumbled by a woman not yet ready for the day. The swish of her dressing gown, creaking of the shutters being opened. Will lay there, silent, waiting for a sound. Any sound that proved she was not gone. Dead. No such sound came. The quiet was no longer peaceful, but heavy. Lonely. It wasn’t until he heard Tugs worried whinnying that he dragged himself out of bed. He too heard they- he wasn’t up yet.

Opening the door to the empty cabin took all he had to give. Out of habit, Will walked towards the kitchen, grabbing the coffee beans, grinder and cups. He got to work measuring out the beans. Added a spoonful of honey to his own cup, realised he had taken two, and froze. He stared at her brown stained cup, thinking about how she would cradle it. How he would get the first smile of the day when he handed it to her. The cup left behind on the counter, Will trudged over to the fire, which was still out, kettle still cold. That was, Alyss’ job in the mornings. Putting the kettle in the hot coals, adding a single log to keep it alive was typically all she could get her to do before her morning coffee. Will could feel bile rise, looking at the cold fireplace, the shells and stones collected from her travels displayed on the mantle. The room started warping, spinning. His head buzzed with words he could not yet decipher, his stomach roiling with grief. He turned away, only to see her small desk, left behind as if she would walk in at any moment, pick up where she left off. The wooden carving he made her once used as a paperweight. As quick as he could, he fled outside for air, taking a hold of the door frame, letting the brisk morning cool his head, gather his thoughts. ‘she’s gone she’s gone she’s gone she’s gone she’s gone she’s gone she’s gone she’s gone.’ He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to get the thoughts out, ‘she’s dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Murdered. Murdered. Murdered. Burned alive. Murdered’. His head spun once again, his vision blacked out, the hole world seemed to stand still all of a sudden, while he kept turning. Stumbling forward he sat down in the rocking chair on the veranda. Her rocking chair. He closed his eyes, panicked, the world wouldn’t stop blacking out, fading. Deep breaths. What do you hear, Will? The horses. birds. rustling trees. the creaking of the chair. his own breathing. What do you see, Will? Opening his eyes carefully, he saw the grass. wildflowers. a trail of some brave bunnies. Alyss’ overshoes. What do you smell, Will? He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Averting his eyes from the mud caked shoes. The horses. morning dew. his own sweat. No coffee, no lingering perfume from the day before. No. Stop. Come on. Will, be stern with yourself. Focus. What do you taste, Will? His morning breath. The fresh air. What do you feel, Will? Despair.

Will closed his eyes, and wept.

The life he had dreamed of, the woman he had never deserved. The peace of mind and softness of life. It had all been ripped, burned, away from him. What would happen with her now? Was there a God out there willing to take her? Keep her safe? Was there even a God out there? If so, how could it smite him with this. Had he done wrong? Had he not always tried to be the best he could? Was she safe?

His heart gutted at the idea, the knowledge that there was nothing out there. Raised in the ward, and then by Halt, Will did not believe in such things as Gods. At least not the kind that created heavens. It tore him apart. If he could believe, maybe he could grieve better. Take comfort from the knowledge that she would at least be okay. That she would still be. All he got was the emptiness left behind by the past, the future.

He tried to refocus his thoughts. What do you see, Will? Her shoes. Her blanket. Her chair. Her favourite flowers. Her book, left behind on the summer evening. He failed to refocus his thoughts. She was everywhere. This little cabin was their world. She was his world.

Will stared out into the forest, thinking about the one thing that wouldn’t get him thinking about her. Nothing at all.

#a tad late #shhh #I have been captivated by my puzzle #enjoy this one #my brain-storm sheet quite literally said 'make them hurt' for this oen #so happy hurtin #ranger's apprentice #ra #rangers apprentice #will treaty #ranger gathering 2024

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finkinthisfrew · 1 year ago

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Anything (pt.1)

A Matty Healy Fanfiction

cw: nightmare, boring plot set up (I promise Matty comes in, pls bear w me)

Chapter 1

I woke up shivering. Sweating. Stomach-churning. Sitting up and shaking my head, I grabbed the book from my nightstand and started reading to distract myself before I could register what I had dreamt and let the tears that had welled up in my sleep fall. I knew the pattern well and I wasn't going to let it ruin yet another morning. Thankfully these dreams happened less often than they used to, maybe once or twice a month now, yet somehow they never seemed to upset me any less.

After a few minutes of reading, I picked up my phone- 48 minutes until my alarm was meant to go off.

Well, I guess it could've been worse. I sighed to myself.

Trying to ignore my exhaustion, both emotional and physical, I tore off my sheets and hopped out of bed to start my day.

Shuffling into the bathroom in my oversized sleeping shirt and thick knit socks, I turned the tap on and plugged the sink, letting the water pool. Splashing water on my face I tried to shake off the sleep that still bogged down my mind.

The dreams definitely didn't help much with my terrible sleep schedule, though they weren't always the cause of it. I'd always struggled with sleep, ever since I was a child. I was always an anxious kid growing up which led to countless restless nights. I'd gotten better as I'd grown older, but my recurring nightmare set me back into my old habit of staying up too late and waking up too early. Unfortunately, it's something I've grown accustomed to.

As I looked up at myself in the mirror, I saw two green eyes with dark circles under them staring back at me. My dark brown curly shag haircut was messy from the tossing and turning in my bed, the ends dripping wet from the water I'd splashed on my face.

Suddenly I wasn't there anymore, my vision was replaced with a flashback to my dream, black eyes staring back at me.

Gone as quickly as it appeared, I once again stared back into my own green eyes, now filled with panic. I dove back into the basin to splash more water on my face.

I took a deep breath and turned back into my bedroom. Determined to not let my recurring nightmare dictate the rest of my day, I decided I would treat myself. Today I would put on my favourite clothes, do up my hair and makeup and take myself to my new favourite coffee shop.

I opened up the door to the beautiful handpainted wardrobe I'd just bought last week and began to sift through all the hanging fabrics. Picking out my favourite jeans and a long sleeve shirt, I closed the door to my wardrobe and stepped back to admire my new apartment.

I had just moved to London a month ago for a six-month-long residency at an art gallery. I had been shocked when I was first offered it but jumped on the opportunity immediately. A six-month trip to London with free housing and endless hours to work on my art? It was a dream come true.

The housing that the gallery supplied me with wasn't anything extravagant, but it was definitely charming. My apartment was on the top floor of a three-story walk-up, boasting giant slanting windows that brightened the single-room apartment even on the gloomiest of London days. I had found various charming vintage pieces of furniture and art to spruce up the bland basics I'd originally been supplied with, and it had finally started to feel like a home away from home.

As I glanced one last time into the full-length mirror, I admired my outfit. My vintage light-wash perfectly worn-in Levi's fit me like a glove, and my new beige fitted long-sleeve mock neck looked effortlessly sexy, the semi-sheer knit material showing my black bralette in a casually immodest way. After I put my thin black sunglasses over my now brown smokey eyes and slid on my black vintage cowboy boots, I popped my AirPods in as I locked my apartment door.

Singing along to the opening lyric of an upbeat playlist, I started to get excited about my little trip to the coffee shop. I had just discovered it last week, finding out that they sold what I believed to be the best cookies I'd ever had in my life. Noticing the sun peaking through spotty clouds, I quickened my step down the stairs into the tube as I decided I'd take my coffee and cookie to a park to finish my book and maybe draw up some new ideas for pieces to make.

Twenty minutes later I found myself saying "I'll have three cookies please" to the friendly barista, trying and failing to not blush at the fact that I knew that the extra two cookies I was buying for later wouldn't even make it home.

Excited that they hadn't run out of cookies yet, I stood at the counter, humming and letting my toes tap along to the music in my ears while I waited for my iced latte. Considering how my day had started, I was positively chipper.

I had already begun to daydream about some new pieces I wanted to sketch out as I stepped out the door of the coffee shop. I was about to turn to walk towards the park when suddenly something slammed into me and I lost my footing, falling straight to the ground.

Disoriented, I gasped for breath as the air had been knocked out of me. Looking around to see what had hit me, I was met with a pair of chocolate-coloured eyes.

"Oh fuck! I am so sorry! Are you okay, darlin'?" the eyes asked me earnestly.

I opened my mouth to answer yes before I noticed the searing pain that engulfed my entire chest.

I winced, and then, I blacked out.

#matty healy #matty the 1975 #at their very best #trumanblack #the 1975 #fanfic #fanfiction #tenderness #tender #lovers #romantic #meet cute #boyfriend #bfiafl

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jamietarttsnorthernattitude · 7 months ago

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Hello hello ! Hmmm..how about "coffee" for the word in a WIP ?

Thank you my lovely friend! Lots of coffees in chapter 4 of rage, rage against the dying light when Jamie is staying at Roy’s while they both recover and worried his nightmares see hindering Roy’s recovery.

At 6:30, Jamie slowly pulls himself painfully from the bed. He tells himself the slowness is due to not wanting to wake Roy and not because his broken body protests every movement. He’s expecting the living area to be empty when he makes his way slowly there, he’s not expecting Ruth to be sitting cross legged while staring into Roy’s back garden, cup of coffee held with both hands. She startles when Jamie appears in her peripheral vision.

“Jamie! You alright?”

Jamie envies the speed with which Ruth's unencumbered body moves to place the coffee mug down and cut the distance between them, helping him to the settee.

“Thanks, Ruth. Yeah, I just couldn’t sleep. What’re you doing up so early?”

Ruth smiles sadly, deftly ignoring his question. “You want coffee?”

“I can get–”

The rest of his sentence is cut off by a withering look from Ruth. He should have known better than to even try. She returns quickly with a cup of coffee the way he likes it, placing it on the table and within easy reach of his good arm.

“I was thinking I could just go stay at a hotel.”

#thank you thank you!#wip wednesday #jamie tartt #Dr O’Sullivan #fic: rage rage against the dying light

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imtrashraccoon · 1 year ago

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Existential dream invaders anyone? No? Alright then...suit yourself...

@scrambledmeggys

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Day 22: Nightmares

You blearily opened your eyes and rolled over to glance at your alarm clock. With a groan, you buried your face back into your pillow in a futile attempt to go back to sleep.

No matter if it was the weekend or not, you always seemed to wake up around six a.m. without fail. Sure, you could probably stay up much later or exercise before bed, but your sleep schedule was so screwed up from years of getting up early for college and now your job, that you didn't have much faith you could improve it at all.

After a couple of minutes, you tossed the blankets off and got out of bed to start your day. At least you could relax today and not rush to work like usual. Maybe you'd even treat yourself and make a latte this morning.

So you made yourself a healthier breakfast than you normally had time for and sat out on the balcony to watch the sun rise with your coffee. As the first rays of light passed over the mountain that gave this city it's name and bathed the world in light, you got an odd feeling that you couldn't put your finger on.

Something just felt...wrong.

Before you could question this feeling further though, your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the sliding door opening.

"Up early again, Ria?"

That voice.

You felt your breath catch in your throat and quickly turned towards the familiar sound.

There, still dressed in an old t-shirt and basketball shorts, was your best friend. He yawned and attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes, before flashing you a tired smile.

"You should really take care of yourself more," he chided softly.

A lump formed in your throat and you couldn't find the words to respond. "Terry..." you managed to croak out and went to reach out for him.

He didn't seem to notice how emotional you'd become all of the sudden and continued talking as normal. "Yeah, yeah, I know you can't control your sleeping patterns. Have you looked into getting something for that?" he asked.

"I... What? I sleep fine, what are you talking about...?"

"Eh, I'm no expert on that stuff. Forget I asked I guess." He ran his hands through his tousled brown hair and glanced out at the mountain thoughtfully. "Are you sure you're going to be okay while I'm gone?"

You stared at him as it occurred to you why he didn't seem to be listening to you.

This wasn't real.

It was in fact merely the memory of your last conversation together.

"Hey, don't worry so much, Ria. I trained for this climb for months and my instructor has been rock climbing for half his life. I'll be fine!" He turned and put a hand on your shoulder, although it seemed to phase through your body instead. "Tell you what, when I get back, let's do something to celebrate. I'll have finally achieved my personal goal!"

You wanted to scream and beg him not to go, as he wouldn't come back, but you couldn't. So there was no point; he couldn't hear you afterall. So instead, you just sat there numbly as he continued the one sided conversation.

The edges of your vision began to blur and mix together like static. You knew you were spiraling and yet, you couldn't bring yourself to surface. There was no point in going on. He was gone and here you were forced to sit through this pain.

Suddenly, you felt someone's hand rest on your shoulder. It was cold and wasn't soft like human hands were. For a moment, you felt a flicker of joy but as soon as you looked up to see who it was, your blood ran cold. While the hand belonged to a skeleton, it wasn't either of the two you knew, rather this was someone you'd never seen before.

He was fairly tall, maybe not quite as tall as Papyrus, but close. He was also less angular and while he had red eyelights like the brothers, his seemed to be more like a vermillion red. His mouth was lined with sharp teeth and his phalanges were far more pointy than either brother's were; they reminded you of needles or tweezers, although they were still thicker than human finger bones. He also had two cracks in his skull, one starting at his right eye socket and traveling up, while the other traveled down to his smile from his left, and his hands had holes in the backs of them. He appeared to be wearing a black trenchcoat with a red turtleneck sweater underneath, but you couldn't tell if he was wearing anything else.

The world had turned greyscale around you and time had seemingly frozen as well. Terence looked like he was mid thought but he still wore a happy smile on his face.

This was new...

Turning your attention back to the strange skeleton, you cleared your throat and managed to find your voice. "Who are you...?" you whispered.

He tilted his skull questioningly and his crooked smile widened at the sound of your voice. You didn't know if he could understand you but at least he could hear you.

He spoke slowly at first as if he was uncertain about doing so. Unfortunately, you couldn't even begin to figure out what he was trying to tell you. His voice came out heavily garbled as if his non-existent vocal cords had been badly injured at some point. He could also be speaking another language but you couldn't tell, as the closer you tried to listen, the more disoriented you became. For some reason or other, you began to experience an intense ringing in your ears that quickly had you doubled over in pain.

Thankfully, he seemed to realize how distressed you had become and stopped speaking. While it took a moment for the ringing to subside, you were extremely grateful when it did.

Pulling yourself together, you finally managed to stand up straight again. "I'm sorry... I can't understand you," you said.

He frowned slightly and crossed his arms. At first you thought he might be upset, and while that was still a possibility, he seemed more disappointed than anything if the way he looked down at you was any indication. It made you feel rather small, almost like a child, with the way his eyelights seemed to critically analyse you.

"Do you know sign language...?" you asked tentatively and signed the words as you spoke.

He narrowed his eye sockets as he studied your hand movements. After a moment, he brought his own hands up and began to slowly sign back.

"I am...a little...familiar..."

You looked around at the still monotone city before turning back to him. "Is this all just a dream then?"

"Of a sort..." He trailed off, seemingly trying to figure out how to explain it in a way you could understand. "You are experiencing a memory...within a dream..."

You nodded, "I figured as much, but that doesn't explain why you're here. The human brain can't make up faces without having seen the owner and I'm pretty sure I would remember meeting another skeleton..." You studied him thoughtfully as you trailed off.

His smile widened considerably but in an unsettling way that sent chills down your spine. "You...catch on quickly... I like that..." he signed.

You were about to respond, when a loud Crack sent you reeling and searching for the source of the sound. It turned out to be a quickly splintering tear in the middle of the air behind where Terence was standing, still frozen in place.

"What is that?!"

He turned to look and let out a stream of garbled words. "The dream is...breaking down..." he signed with a frown. "A shame really..."

"What do you mean 'breaking down?' Is that bad?" You tore your eyes away from the scar in reality, panic welling up in your soul, only to see the edges of his form had blurred and turned to static.

"It is...inconvenient... I will need to find...another way..."

"Wait!" You reached for him, but your hand passed through his body. "I never even got your name!"

He smiled slightly, "I am...the man who speaks in hands..."

You tried to ask what that meant but that same intense ringing from before began again, causing you to collapse from the pain. He lifted your chin to meet his gaze with the tips of his phalanges and once again spoke in that garbled tone.

W...D...Ga-

The pain became too much to bear and before you could figure out what he was saying, everything went black as the dream collapsed.

Find me...

< ~ - . - ~ >

The next thing you knew, someone was trying their best to shake you awake. Your eyes snapped open to meet the gaze of Frisk, although the first thing you noticed was that they were crying. That, and their eyes were glowing a bright red.

Your heart was practically pounding out of your chest and you felt like you could hardly inhale enough oxygen to keep up. Rather than worry about that, you pulled Frisk into a desperate hug in an effort to comfort them.

You didn't know how long you laid there holding them, but only once your heartbeat slowed to a more reasonable rate and their sniffling seemed to cease, did you relax your grip on their body.

Frisk pulled back so they could properly sign. "Are you okay?" they asked. You noticed their eyes had returned to their normal hazel shade now as well.

You giggled and poked their arm playfully. "I should be asking you that," you whispered. "I'm alright now, thanks to you."

Frisk smiled slightly and signed, "Good, you looked like you were having a nightmare."

"I guess you could call it that..." you murmured. "But what about you? You were crying and your eyes were glowing..."

This information seemed to surprise Frisk and they stared at you for a brief moment, before beginning to rapidly sign again. "They were?! What colour? Your eyes were glowing too! They were a soft purple!"

"Easy, one thing at a time, alright?" you chuckled. "Your eyes were glowing a cheerful red, but tell me why you were so upset, please."

"I had a nightmare too..." Frisk answered. Their excitement vanished as they seemed to recall what had happened, only to be replaced by a chillingly passive expression. "I don't really want to talk about it..."

"Are you sure?" you pressed gently, brushing some of their hair out of their face.

They nodded slowly. "I saw a bunch of bad memories...where you died a lot..." They paused for a moment before adding, "There was a skeleton with holes in his hands too but he scared me..."

You frowned slightly at that and rubbed their back in a comforting way. "I'm sorry to hear that...but it's going to be okay. You're safe here, Frisk."

Spotting movement out of the corner of your eye, you glanced over and made eye contact with Papyrus. He hesitated for a moment before approaching you and Frisk again. You sat up and pulled Frisk closer to your chest as you did so.

"Did we wake you up?" you asked him softly.

Papyrus shook his head slowly. "No, It Was Not You..." His voice sounded rougher than usual which was concerning to you.

Sensing something had happened to him as well, you motioned to the free space next to you on the couch. He sat down stiffly and after a moment, wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

"Frisk had a nightmare...and I did too," you murmured and Frisk nodded silently in agreement.

Papyrus reached over and gently raked his phalanges through Frisk's hair. "Ah, I Can See That..." Turning to them now, he smiled slightly and asked, "Would You Like Something To Cheer You Up?"

Frisk nodded again but didn't say anything.

You and Papyrus made Frisk a hot chocolate and worked together to comfort them. Eventually, they fell back asleep and so you eased them onto the couch, making sure to tuck them in as well. Only then did Papyrus pull you into the kitchen to talk.

"I Experienced A Nightmare As Well," he murmured.

You frowned slightly. "Did you want to talk about it?" you asked.

"Maybe..." Papyrus looked away for a moment. "I Think I Saw The Same Person As Frisk Though..."

"Wait, you did too?! A skeleton with cracks on his face and holes in his hands?"

He nodded slowly and so you asked another question. "Do you know who he is by chance?"

"I Do Not. I Would Remember Seeing Any Other Skeletons, Especially One Like Him."

You sighed and ran a hand over your face. "This is so strange. He tried to talk to me but I wasn't able to get his name before Frisk woke me up."

Papyrus was quiet for a moment but you could feel him watching you as you pondered what this all could mean. "Are You Alright?" he finally asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine..." you answered quietly.

He gave you a look that seemed to suggest he didn't quite believe you but rather than press further, he pulled you into a warm hug instead. "You Can Always Come Talk To Me About Anything, Precious," he murmured.

You nodded and nuzzled your cheek against his collarbone. "Thank you, I really appreciate that, Papyrus..."

#selfshipufpap #undertale #underfell #underfell papyrus x reader #underfell papyrus #reader #named oc #the hand we've been dealt #thwbd #alternate universe #raccoons drabbles

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aces-and-angels · 1 year ago

Note

if you could please write prompt 14 for a female MC (can be rowan) and abel that'd be awesome! congrats on your milestone!!

tysm anon! congrats on being #1 of 3 of what i'm dubbing the impromptu shower series lol.

i wanted to explore a scenario where mc rejects abel at the carnival (dw, there's a happy ending). anyways, enjoy your extra large blurb🖤

14. Showering together; Abel x Rowan (F!MC)- 3.4k words

---

Abel was not a morning person. At least, not at first. Multiple alarms were needed in order for him to wake up in time for Mercedes' soccer practices. And Cesar's baseball games. Even Lola would occasionally need a ride whenever she had a Model UN meeting.

Years of early mornings led to him having quite the caffeine tolerance. One cup of coffee turned to two, and eventually, he would just drink it out of habit rather than to actually cure his drowsiness. However, a cold shower never failed to do the trick. He'd grit his teeth as freezing water pelted down on his bare skin, shocking him back to life.

Whatever works, right?

A cold shower to wake up- to bring him back to reality- to silence those cursed screams from the unknown, the ones that fueled his nightmares. More recently, they were needed to stop himself from thinking of her.

Rowan.

The way her lips were oh so perfectly shaped. How they would look saying his name. How soft they'd feel against his... Cold water could only do so much to keep his thoughts at bay.

~~~

"I-- I just, don't really see you like that."

His heart dropped. "Oh. Not even after... everything?" All those stolen glances. Their first kiss in his apartment. Dancing like idiots under the stars. Holding her close. Falling asleep in her arms.

"Abel..."

"No, it's okay. It's fine. I get it. No need to explain."

He can't look at her. Not now. Not when he feels like he's being ripped apart. His vision blurs with unshed tears. Not here. Not now. The joyful shrieks of children riding the merry-go-round behind them fade, giving way to the pounding in his ears.

Every breath hurts. But eventually, he musters enough strength to push that ache in his chest down. "Want to get a funnel cake?" He does his best to smile. She does the same.

"That sounds like a great idea." The walk to the food stall is quiet. He could get over her. He had to.

~~~

Things were always easier said than done.

It had been four months since everything ended. Without eminent danger occupying his time, teaching at Redwood provided a welcome distraction. Even if being the new hire meant taking all the 8AM lectures. There was enough material in the library to stay busy for hours. Enough to help him forget about her. It nearly worked, until...

"Hey," Rowan waved nervously, holding a duffel bag in her other hand. Abel blinked in shock, his mouth slightly agape.

"Ro? What are you... Why are you..." His thoughts scrambled around in his head. She's not supposed to be here. Is she? Did she come for me? No, that's silly, he reminded himself. Still, his heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. Brown and cyan. The ones he could never forget no matter how hard he tried.

"Long story short- my car broke down. Then I remembered you got a job at Redwood. The mechanic said the campus wasn't too far from the shop, so I walked," she explained.

"Y-you could've called. You didn't need to walk all the way here."

"I would've, but my phone died and I stupidly forgot to pack my charger."

"The shop didn't have a phone?"

"No, they did. But I didn't exactly have your number memorized. Or any number, really," she chuckles sheepishly.

"Heh, right..." Abel bit the inside of his cheek, unsure what to do next. He watches her mouth move as she speaks, but none of the words are registering. Say something, you dork. She's staring at you! Dios, have I been staring? Am I being weird? When did my palms get so swea-

"Uh, Abel?" Rowan waved her hand over his face, breaking him out of his spiral.

"Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I asked if there were any phone charging stations here," she restated. "I need to look up a place to stay for the night while my car gets fixed."

"You can stay with me." What am I doing?

Her eyes widen. "Really? I don't wanna trouble you."

"I-it's no trouble, I swear. The hotels around here aren't cheap. Besides, friends give each other emergency places for refuge," he reassures. Friends. The word still felt bitter on his tongue.

She searches for something in his face- any sign of hesitation. Finding none, she slumps her shoulders in relief. "Well, thank you. Really. I'll be out of your hair before you know it, promise."

"Right," he mumbles, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest. "Follow me. I've got one more lecture to give, but you can wait in my office. I'll come get you when I'm done."

"Actually... could I sit in on your class?"

"You want to sit in on a two hour lecture about the Sioux tribe?" He could barely hide the disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah, why not? I've never taken an archaeology course before... Plus, Jocelyn said you weren't too boring to listen to," she snorts. He can't help but laugh as well.

"What a stellar review," he smirks. His eyes glance down at his wrist watch. "C'mon, we're about to be late for class."

"Aye, aye professor."

The next two hours proved to be one of the toughest lectures Abel's ever had to present. He's spoken at several conferences with distinguished audience members without breaking a sweat. But here he was, stumbling over his words anytime he glanced at Rowan- and his eyes were hellbent on landing right where she was.

Back row, seven seats from the center. It was hard to look at her, yet it seemed impossible to look away. His nerves dried out his mouth despite the many sips of water he'd taken. The bottle he brought was empty before he made it through half his presentation.

"How about a quick break?" Excited murmurs fill the lecture hall at his suggestion. "I'll take that as a yes. We'll pick things back up in ten minutes." Some students left the room, while others chatted with their friends. With the attention off him, he could finally breathe easy.

Standing at the podium proved to be too much to handle. He made his way to his desk, prepared to finish the rest of his lecture from behind his computer monitor. A small shield for his wandering eyes.

"Here," Rowan places a new water bottle on his desk. Abel looks up. Any calmness he felt was gone, replaced with that incessant flutter of his stomach. So much for the shield.

"Oh, um, thank you," he bowed his head slightly, busying his hands by fiddling with the label. "How'd you-"

"You kept stopping yourself from reaching for your bottle during your spiel on the Standing Rock reservation," she answers.

A hint of a smile crept on his face. "You were paying attention?"

"Of course I was," Rowan scoffs, as if it was obvious. "This stuff is fascinating and you do brilliant work, professor."

Abel's cheeks warm, undoubtedly turning red. "You've only seen my work once."

"And it's brilliant. Take the compliment, Abel. False modesty never looked good on you."

"Hey, everything looks good on me," he jokes.

"There he is," she grins. A swarm of students re-enter the room all at once. "Guess that's my cue. Good luck with the rest of the lesson." His eyes linger on her frame as she climbs up the stairs back to her seat. A hush falls throughout his class, all heads now turned in his direction. From her spot, Rowan gives him a thumbs up. Taking a deep breath, he stands and walks towards the podium.

"Now where were we?"

---

Back in his apartment, Abel reheats some leftovers on the stove while Rowan takes a shower upstairs.

This is fine. Totally fine. Just a friend helping out another friend. Nothing more.

Lost in thought, he doesn't notice the sound of the bathroom door opening nor Rowan's footsteps heading towards the kitchen. "Smells good," she comments.

Startled, Abel jumps, dropping the wooden spoon he was using to stir the food. A small, high-pitched shriek escapes his lips. "AH! When did you get there?!"

"Sorry- I forgot that you're easily frightened," she bites her lip, suppressing a smirk.

"I am not-" his protest dies as she gives a pointed look at him, then at the wooden spoon on the ground. "... I'm just not used to having another person here, that's all." He bends down to pick up the spoon and tosses it in the sink.

Still fighting the urge to smile, Rowan simply nods. Instead, she moves to stand next to him. "What'cha making?"

"I'm reheating some chicken stir fry. I made way too much, so I've been stuck eating this for the past few days," he answers, grabbing another spoon from the drawer. "Do you want anything else? I should have enough stuff in my fridge to make something new. Or I could order some takeout?"

"You don't have to do that."

"No, really, I-" his words fall short as he turns, realizing how close they are. Every tiny freckle on her face was crystal clear. The faint scent of her shampoo mixed wonderfully with the air, overwhelming his senses. A loose strand hung awkwardly at her brow and his hand itched to push it aside.

"Abel?" She called out softly, peering up at him.

"Yeah?"

"You okay? You look... spacey."

"Y-yeah," he reassures, snapping his head back towards the stove. "I'm fine. Long day, I guess." His voice lacks any sort of conviction.

Rowan's brows furrow ever so slightly, but she decides not to pry any further. "I hear ya. Teaching. Having your car break down. It all takes a lot out of you."

"It really does," he sighs, unsure if he feels relieved or disappointed. "Anyways, food's ready."

Her face brightens instantly. "One of my favorite set of words."

Her mood is infectious, clearing any lingering awkwardness left between them. "Sit. I'll grab the plates."

"How kind of you," she jests playfully, taking a seat at the dining table. Abel quickly sets the table and scoops a hefty portion onto her plate along with a side of rice. "I think I could cry right now."

He snorts. "Tears of joy, I hope."

"Joy. Merriment. Bliss. You name it. I'm feeling it." Rowan makes quick work of her food. Each bite is followed by a satisfied hum. A quarter of her plate is gone by the time Abel manages to sit down. The corner of his mouth quirks upwards. "Guess I did a good job."

"Fantastic," she corrects him, putting another forkful of rice in her mouth. Following her lead, Abel began eating as well. Somehow, the flavors he'd grown tired of tasting for the past week were now vibrant. As if something breathed new life into the dish. Across the table, Rowan dances happily in her seat.

---

"Absolutely not."

"But-"

"No."

"But Abel-"

"No, you are not sleeping on the couch! What kind of host would I be if I let you do that?"

"What kind of guest would I be if I kicked you out of your own room after coming here unannounced," Rowan counters, just as adamant.

Abel huffs, exasperated. "Well, I only have the one room."

"I'm aware," she drawls.

"And I'm not changing my mind."

"Me either."

He crosses his arms over his chest while she rests her hands on her hips. Both stare the other down, waiting for someone to break. The silence between them is palpable. He squints, his eyes already beginning to burn. Stupid contacts. A shit-eating grin spreads on Rowan's face. Unable to fight the urge any longer, he blinks with a frustrated groan. "Ugh, this is pointless!"

"You're just saying that cause you lost. Have fun in your room," she taunts.

"I will be having fun right here, thank you very much," he protests, taking a seat on the couch.

Rowan gapes at him. "Hey! You can't do that!"

"Yeah I can. This is my apartment."

"Exactly. Your apartment. Your room," she bickers, trying to pull him off the couch. He firmly plants his feet to the floor, not letting her move him an inch.

"You... are... so... stubborn..." she grunts as she futilely pushes against his shoulder with her back. Eventually, she lets out a tired sigh. "Fine. You win."

"Thank you. The blankets-"

"But so do I.''

"Huh?"

"I can't make you leave this couch just as much as you can't make me take your room. So I guess we're both taking the couch tonight," she states matter-of-factly.

"But- you- that's-"

"A great resolution. Thanks Ro. You're welcome, Abel," she finishes for him. "Now- do you wanna keep arguing or do you wanna tell me if you have any more pillows?"

"Side closet. Third shelf. The blankets should also be there," he answers, defeated. This is still fine. Totally fine.

"Great," she beams. It takes little time for them to transform the couch into a makeshift bed. Rowan spreads the sheets over the cushions as Abel folds down the back of the couch. For added legroom, he pushes the footrest to the edge. "See? This looks cozy!"

"You know what else is cozy?"

She smacks his arm. "Quit it. We already agreed on the couch situation."

"Fine. It was worth a shot," he grumbles. Satisfied, Rowan moves to her side, grabbing a knitted blanket from the stack on the floor. She settles into the cushions. Meanwhile, Abel stands, hesitant.

Rowan raises an eyebrow at him. "It's this or that cozy room of yours. C'mon, I don't bite." He gulps. His movements are stiff as he maneuvers his way onto the couch, being extra cautious not to accidentally touch her. He mentally cursed himself as he tried to make himself as small as possible. Why didn't I buy the bigger couch when I had the chance?

Side by side with only a few inches between them, Abel lays very still on his back. "So... did you hear anything back from the car shop?"

"A guy called and said they should be done with the repairs by noon. Thanks for letting me borrow your charger, by the way."

"No problem."

"And for letting me stay here."

He laughs breathlessly. "You don't have to keep thanking me for that."

"Well I'm probably gonna do it at least four more times, so get used to it," she chuckles alongside him. As their laughter dies down, another question pops into his head.

"Hey, Ro?"

She shifts to face him. He stays pointedly still. "Yeah?"

"I didn't ask before but... what are you doing here in California?"

There's a brief pause, as if she's contemplating how to answer. "You could say I was on a business trip."

"A business trip?"

"To Colorado. Ava's coven has a contact there. I drove to buy some stones from them," she elaborates.

"Stones?"

"Right. The stones they have are the ones we use to make charms to ward off corruption. It's the best material that absorbs the Power in its pure form."

"Ah. So you're still at it then? Hunting down horrors?"

She nods. "Some days are better than others. Right now, things have been quiet. But that only lasts for so long. There's always a part of me waiting for shit to go sideways. The only thing I can do is make sure I'm there to fix things."

"And does that make you... happy?"

"I have purpose," she says, resolute. "More than I did when I was hunting them blindly. That's something I can't let go of." She shifts again, causing the cushions to dip beneath him. "What about you? Are you happy here?"

"Course I am," he answers too quickly. "Redwood is amazing. The library is incredible. They have enough funding for any research I want to do. More opportunities, resources. Couldn't be more thrilled."

"Guess that's why it's been so hard to reach you," she mutters. He's surprised by the sadness in her tone.

"The job keeps me busy."

"So busy that you couldn't even say goodbye?" His head whips towards her. There are no tears. Just someone looking for answers. "Jocelyn was the one who told me, y'know. I didn't know you were gone for a whole week."

Guilt floods through him. "I- I just had to leave. I had to."

"Was not talking to me a must too?" Her question is only met with silence. "When I saw you on campus, I thought for sure you would run off in another direction. Instead, you offer up your apartment."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm confused! We're friends one day, you leave the next. We don't talk for months, and now I'm here. I thought you hated me," she blurts out.

"I don't hate you," he whispers.

"Then why?"

He averts his gaze, choosing to focus on the ceiling instead. "I don't hate you. But being around you- I couldn't handle it. I needed a fresh start. Somewhere to go so... so I could..."

"So you could what?" The air was thick with tension. Brown and cyan eyes met his, unwavering.

"So I could get over you."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Neither of them know what to say after that. This was a line he never thought he'd cross. Not again. "It didn't work," he laughs dryly, his voice hollow.

"Abel..."

"I tried. I really did. Buried myself in work. I even applied for a research grant. I was doing everything I've always wanted to do, but it still wasn't enough. Then you show up. And even though I've been a mess the whole day, this is the first time I've really felt happy since moving here." He gives her a sad smile. "I know you only-"

"I lied," she cuts him off suddenly.

"What?"

"I lied before. On campus. When I said I didn't call because I didn't remember your number. I knew it. 971-542-3378."

"Um... I forgive you?"

"No, listen to me. I've dialed and deleted that number more times than I can count. I didn't know why you left, but I knew it hurt when you did. I wanted so badly to hate you, but I just missed you instead."

He hung onto her every word. The hope he dared not to breathe life into now flickered inside him. "Just like I did?"

She nods. "Just like you did." The implication was clear.

"But- at the carnival, you said-"

"I didn't think I was ready. You deserve someone who is. I'm not saying it'll be easy. I still can't leave Westchester and I don't expect you to move back, but- mmph-" His lips crash into hers before she can finish.

Her surprise melts away and she leans into him. There's so much he wants to tell her and he does as he moves his mouth in time with hers. I never thought I'd get to do this again.

She gasps, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

I missed you too.

He tilts his head, deepening their kiss.

I love you.

He moves to cup her cheek, relishing the warmth beneath his fingertips.

I love you.

Their breath becomes one- bodies pressed close enough that she can feel just how fast his heart is racing.

I love you.

---

*one month later*

The morning light peeks through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the abandoned sheets on the bed. A pair of footsteps follow Abel towards the bathroom. He smiles as Rowan wraps her arms around his waist. Through the mirror, he notices her tired eyes, barely open. "You don't have to be up yet," he says softly, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

She shakes her head with a yawn, hugging him tighter. "I wanted to see you before you left." He hums contently in response. Her feet drag along the tile as he walks over to the shower. Gently, he pries himself away from her just long enough to strip himself bare. He takes care of her next, adding her clothes to the pile. Together, they step through the shower curtain, returning to each others arms. He laughs as she forces him to bend down so she can lather more shampoo into his hair. It's a morning not unlike the others, only this time, the water runs warm.

---

17 notes · View notes

wannabespacesmuggler · 3 years ago

Text

Small Talk and Mediocre Coffee | Better Off

Chapter Ten | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: You recently moved to Storybrooke and began working the morning shift at Granny’s diner. Meanwhile, Killian Jones has been working the night shift on the docks of Storybrooke for years. When his routine gets turned upside down, he begins to understand the simple joy brought by an early cup of coffee, as long as you’re the one pouring it.

Pairing: Killian Jones x Reader

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1.8K

Extras: Playlist – A playlist for two idiots in love: a gruff outcast who hates coffee but now drinks it every morning because the waitress at the diner keeps smiling at him as they pour it.

Soft rocking pulls Killian out of a deep sleep. He lets out a quiet groan, rolls over, and opens his eyes. His brow furrows as he takes in his surroundings. He is not in his apartment. No, he’s on a ship -- a ship he’s always dreamed of having. This is what he’s always wanted.

Still, he can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is wrong. He feels wrong. Most mornings he wakes up in a panic after another restless night’s sleep. He’s been haunted by nightmares every night for years -- it’s become just a part of him now. But this morning he was not met with fear and anxiety. No, instead, he was met with peace.

Is this real?

Slowly, he sits up and moves to the edge of the bed. His feet meet the cold, wooden floorboards and he can hear waves crashing into the exterior of the ship. This feels real. Deciding he should leave the cabin and figure out where he is, he stands up. He snatches the flannel draped over a chair in the corner of the room and throws it over his t-shirt before carefully making his way up the steps to the door.

Sunlight floods his vision and he closes his eyes. Once they adjust, he’s able to look over the deck. However, he doesn’t believe his eyes.

“Morning, pirate.”

You’re standing there, leaning against the railing. You had been looking out at the morning sunrise before Killian’s footsteps pulled your attention toward the back of the vessel. Killian is left speechless. He doesn’t miss how your voice is laced thick with affection. And as he looks at you, practically glowing in the morning sun with a smile sweet as honey pulling at your lips, he can’t help the thought that crosses his mind. You look like a dream: bundled up in his leather jacket that seems to be three or four sizes too big for your frame with your hands wrapped around a hot cup of coffee.

You place your mug down and approach him. Killian holds his breath as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him toward you. His head is spinning. His eyes are wide. But as you connect your lips with his, he knows that he’s done for. Forget the ship, the sunrise, the sea: this is what he’s always wanted. You manage to bring peace to the darkest reaches of his soul. His old, weary heart will always be yours.

Killian grabs your waist and pulls you in closer. The kiss is slow and sweet and lazy. It’s perfect. Killian is pretty sure this is what heaven feels like.

As he gets lost in you, he shuts out everything else. He doesn’t notice the storm clouds rolling in from the west or how the golden, morning sky has been replaced by a dark, ominous gray. Loud, booming thunder shakes the vessel, causing his eyes to snap open. You’re no longer in his embrace. Instead, you’re standing on the edge of the ship. He rushes toward you, wanting to pull you away from the sea’s violent waves, but he stops in his tracks as you turn to face him.

You’re no longer you.

You have been replaced by a face that haunts him every night in his dreams. He feels like his heart has been ripped out of his chest. Although his mind is screaming at him to reach out to you, he’s frozen in place as you teeter precariously on the ship’s edge. Your eyes meet his and it sends a shiver through his body; they lack their usual warmth.

“You could have saved me.”

Killian’s brow furrows at your words. He opens his mouth to ask what you’re talking about, but before he can speak your foot slips off the deck and your body falls into the sea. A pained, ferocious cry escapes from Killian as he chases after you. Without thinking, he dives headfirst into the waves.

He will not lose you.

His eyes strain in the water’s darkness, searching for you. He begins to panic as all he sees is a vast emptiness. His lungs feel like they’re on fire, but he’s afraid that if he goes up for air that you’ll slip right through his fingers. As his vision blurs and his movements slow, he calls out for you one last time. He gets swept up in the water before everything goes black after hitting his head, hard.

Killian gasps and sits straight up. His breaths are quick and panicked. His eyes frantically search for you but settle down once he realizes he’s in his living room. It was just a dream. A nightmare. Killian sits up straight, his bones aching due to a night spent sleeping on his leather couch. Just another reminder that he’s no longer as young as he once was. Stretching his legs out, he knocks over an empty bottle of rum. Killian grabs the bottle as he stands and moves to throw it out.

On his way to the kitchen, he stops after seeing his reflection in his hall mirror. Killian scoffs at the sight. He certainly looks like he finished off an entire bottle of rum by himself last night. David will certainly notice during lunch today and ask him what he was up to last night; however, Killian will never admit that after seeing you and Will together last night, Killian made his way back to his apartment and drowned his sorrows with the bottle in his hands before passing out on his couch.

Maybe it’s for the best though.

Killian knows he’s a bad man, but Will could treat you right. He and Robin seem to get along well enough and Robin is an honorable man. But Killian is also a selfish man and that brief, fleeting moment with you last night when he could practically feel that there was more to the words you were saying just fueled the fire that burns in his heart for you. If he closes his eyes he can still feel your hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

Killian groans at his innermost thoughts and decides to just get on with his usual morning routine. Responding to David and Emma’s messages from last night, watering the single succulent he’s managed to keep alive in this apartment, bundling himself in layers of clothing so that he won’t freeze at the docks. He grabs his keys before leaving his apartment and making his way to Granny’s.

Maybe seeing you this morning will get his head on straight. After all, this is his favorite part of the day, suffering through a crappy cup of coffee so that he can make you smile at him.

The cold morning breeze hits his face as he leaves his apartment building and as opposed to most other mornings, it feels good today. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and begins trekking to Granny’s. It’s early enough that he doesn’t have to force polite smiles for the locals on the street. He’s thankful for that this morning.

Killian approaches the diner and opens the door, before stopping in his tracks. You’re standing beside the table where Robin and Will are seated. There is a wide, bright smile on your face as you talk to them. Will makes a comment which causes you to laugh. The sound is absolutely angelic. A proud smile spreads across Will’s face.

You heard the bell from the door during your conversation with Robin and Will. After excusing yourself back to work, you turn around to see who had come into the diner. You’re surprised as you see Killian making his way down the steps and toward the docks. You hadn’t seen him come in. In fact, you know he didn’t take his usual seat at the corner booth because you looked for him all morning. After last night, you figure Killian knows about your feelings for him. You figure he knows that he’s what’s keeping you here in Storybrooke.

You move to follow him out of the diner, but he’s already made quite some distance between the two of you. He’s walking down the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pockets, head down, and shoulders tense. You know something is wrong. You just wish he would have come in and talked to you about it today.

You wrap your arms around yourself as the wind picks up. You shiver slightly until your jacket is suddenly wrapped gently around your shoulders. Turning, you meet the friendly faces of Robin and Will.

“Don’t worry about it, love. It’s his loss. The coffee was really good this morning.”

Will speaks and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. He’s been laying it on pretty thick to you recently and you’ve been trying to let him down easy. You’re always happy when Robin is with him because he seems to keep a little more reigned in. Will is a nice guy. He’s funny, and sweet, and cute. And, according to Ashley, what’s most important is that he’s obviously interested in you. And maybe you would be interested in him too if your heart weren’t already tethered to a mess of jet black hair and a rugged leather jacket.

“He’s probably just running late for work. No big deal.”

You assure them you’re fine even though watching Killian walk away made your heartache just a little bit.

“You don’t just walk away from someone you care about, love.”

Before you can respond, Robin places a hand on Will’s shoulder.

“We better get going. Thank you for the coffee and the meal.”

You give Robin a smile and say goodbye to both of them before turning back to where Killian had walked off toward.

Meanwhile, Killian was sitting at the bench you usually met him at when he was working the night shift. The jealousy that clouded his mind in the diner quickly turned into guilt and now he’s left with embarrassment. He shouldn’t have just walked away from you. You did nothing wrong. And he has no right to be jealous. You aren’t his.

He remembers back to a morning in the diner when you were helping Henry with his homework. Those were some of his favorite mornings. The two of you were reading about Icarus and Daedalus. As you explained the tale to the boy, Killian couldn’t help but think that Icarus was just some dumb fool. He let his pride and his selfishness cloud his judgment.

Now, as he sits with his head in his hands, he understands.

Oh Icarus, you poor fool. Got carried away in the beauty and excitement of it all and got burned by the sun.

He knows that he should go back to the diner and apologize to you, but his body doesn’t move because, honestly, Killian knows you’re better off without him anyway. The last this he wants to do is snuff out the light inside of you.

Especially since you’re the brightest god damn thing in this small, sleepy town.

Tags: @ladylizzieofdarbyshire, @alexa-fangirl-forever, @mossnomori, @captainamericasinnocence, @fictionalhoomanofnowhere, @ceruleanrainblues, @lily-d247, @victoria-a567, @drinkfantasy, @thisismelayla, @its-not-too-late-for-coffee, @rinymichelle321

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Road to Healing

Gif is not mine.

Summary: The one where you and Wanda travel around the country while grieving together. / Inspired by road trip-themed movies.

Read Complete work on AO3 too.

Warnings> Explicit language (cursing) , mentions of death, grieve and panic attacks. Mainly fluff and sad.

Words: 4.299K (Oneshot)

When Thanos won, you didn't have time to grieve. Immediately on the battlefield, you were responsible for helping to heal the wounded. And you were exhausted when it was over.

And then S.H.I.E.L.D. was triggered, and you knew they would take Vision if they found him. You thought Wanda wouldn't want that. And you ignored the intense pain you felt at the thought of her, and repeated to yourself that you wouldn't want that either. So you used Tony's technology to bring Vision's body back to the Avengers compound. And then you told them that Thanos had destroyed him along with the jewel, and that's what they wrote in their reports.

When you finally returned home, you only slept after you had organized a memorial for him. You didn't ask your colleagues to participate. The remaining avengers just seemed empty. So you left them alone.

Your hands trembled when you touched the knob of Wanda's room. You were looking for a picture of Vis. You found it eventually. When you left the room, your shirt was wet with your tears.

You thought Vision would like a view of the sea. So you left his body in a black wooden coffin, and buried it on the edge of the hill a few meters from the exit of the complex. You figured that Vision wasn't religious, so you just used the 3D printer to create a little iron plate, and stuck it against the ground.

You could not sleep that night. And the next. When you finally did, your panic attacks started. But the emergency calls started coming in, and you knew you had no time for grief. The world needed you now.

You learned to deal with the panic, but the nightmares continued. So you accepted more assignments, until you were too exhausted to dream. And then you got used to it.

And like the snap of a finger, five years passed.

When you defeated Thanos, you fell to your knees. You couldn't find Natasha. And then you couldn't breathe. You realize what was happening, you knew they were back. But you can't go through this again. Because the world needs you again. And then you calm down, and you stand up. And then you are walking.

Steve doesn't come back. You think you hear Bucky crying in his room. But you don't say anything, because he doesn't like to talk about it.

You take Wanda to the tomb of Vision two days before Tony's funeral. She sobs against you as you hug her, your own tears preventing you from seeing your surroundings clearly. You haven't left her side since.

After Tony's funeral is over, you destroy the items in your room with a bat. When you fall to the ground, Wanda sits beside you quietly, and holds your hand. She doesn't mind you shouting Nat's name along with your sobs.

- I can't stay here anymore. - You tell her the next night, while you are in your room. - I can't breathe in this place. - You confess with tears on your face. - I feel like I'm going to die.

Wanda intertwines your hands.

- Let's leave then.

You let out a long sigh, trying to control your tears. And then you nod.

Your mood improves considerably once you are out of the compound. You don't think about Nat, or Tony, or Steve, because if you do, your hands start to shake. But you think about healing. You think about being there for your best friend.

And then you decide to live. And you hold both of Wanda's hands when you tell her that you are going to travel. Travel to all the places she hasn't visited in the United States.

You want to remember that there are still things to live for. You want Nat to be proud of you.

When Wanda nods in agreement, you smile, and hug her. And then you get a truck, and you let Wanda hold the map.

It is hot and humid, and you drum your fingers against the steering wheel, humming softly the pop song playing on the radio.

Wanda fell asleep against the passenger seat some time ago, and it has been a few hours since you left the small motel where you were staying after leaving the Avengers compound.

You are hungry, so you stop the car at the first dinner you find. The loss of movement of the vehicle awakens Wanda.

- Hey sleepyhead. - You joke as you take out your key, and look for your wallet in the glove compartment. - Let's go get something to eat.

You walk to the diner, which is practically empty. Wanda doesn't seem to be fully awake yet, but smiles at you when she catches you looking. You sit down on opposite sides of the table.

- I'll have the eggs and bacon, and pancakes, please. - You tell the waitress, and Wanda gives you a curious look. She orders cereal and chocolate waffles.

- Why are we having breakfast for dinner? - she asks with a smile.

You shrug, laughing lightly.

- It's always time for pancakes.

Wanda looks at you for a moment, and you look back. And then you are having a blinking contest. The waitress gives you a judgmental look when she interrupts the game, but you and Wanda smile and thank her for the food.

You finish eating first, and are distracted by one of the crossword puzzle magazines that the restaurant leaves under the tables.

- Hey, Wands, help me with this one. - You say slightly distracted as you run your pencil across the paper. - "One word. Destined for belonging. Companionship. Devotion" Do you have any idea what it is?

- Soulmates. - Wanda says before chewing another piece of waffle. You let out a contented exclamation when the word fits, and smile at her, who just winks at you, smiling back.

- Does this taste good? - you ask, watching her eat. She nods, pushing her plate toward you. Wanda hands you her own fork to taste the waffles. They are very good, but you don't want to eat any more.

You can't finish your crossword puzzle, and you return the magazine to the table compartment before you leave the restaurant.

And then it is Wanda's turn to drive. You sit in the passenger seat, and turn up the radio as you get back on the road. You wish you could stay awake at night to keep Wanda company, but it only takes four songs for you to fall asleep.

It is morning when you arrive in Virgina. And it is cold enough for you to wrap Wanda in a scarf when she refuses to warm up properly. She just laughs with flushed cheeks when you let her go. You rent a room with two beds, and after you shower, Wanda goes into the bathroom.

You are browsing through the channels when she comes back with a towel wrapped in her hair, she smells good even from a distance.

- Do you want to go out to eat, or do you want to order a pizza? - you ask.

- Pizza. - She replies as she lies down on the bed.

You need to go out and look for a pay phone, because both of your cell phones are off and in the bottom of one of the boxes you are carrying in the truck.

- Shall we watch a movie? - she asks when you come back into the room.

- Comedy or horror? - You counter with a question as you kick off your shoes. Wanda bites her lip thoughtfully.

- Both.

You smile as you hang your coat on the door.

You have been watching "Scary Movie" for twenty minutes when the pizza arrives. Wanda pauses the movie while you stand up and pay the delivery man.

She uses her powers to drag the coffee table into the space between the two beds, and you place the pizza on top of the wood and sit cross-legged on Wanda's bed.

Eventually, you finish the pizza and wipe your hands with napkins. And then Wanda lets the movie sequence continue, and you remain in her bed with the excuse that it was cold. You fall asleep at the end of the second film, but you wake up in the early morning hours with Wanda's hand against your waist. You don't think you should get used to the feeling, so you get up and go back to your bed.

Wanda cries when you arrive in Virginia Beach. You know it is the view of the sea, which reminded her of the tomb of Vision. You stand silently beside her as you entwine your hands. Wanda doesn't let go until you get back to the car.

It's cold, and you shouldn't have ice cream. But you do it anyway. You and Wanda stop at a drive-thru, and have your milkshakes while you drive toward Tennessee.

You let her have the rest of your ice cream even though she's had many tastes already.

On one of the roads, you stop the car on the roadside. You try to normalize your breathing.

- I'm here. - She says next to you in a gentle voice, as she lets you squeeze her hand over your lap. - You are safe.

You exchange directions for a while.

- So you have never been to Disney? - You ask between one lighthouse and another, somewhere in North Carolina.

Wanda denies it with a smile and a nod. She has only one hand on the wheel, and her hair is shining in the sun. You scold yourself for looking.

- Since we can't afford Disney, we should pick something cheap to do - You tell her while looking at one of the tour guides you found at the motel.

- I don't mind just driving around. - she says. You bite the smile from your lips.

- Yeah, me neither.

It takes two weeks for you to talk about Natasha. You have changed routes many times now, and then you sit in the back of the truck, and look at the stars. And Wanda asks you about your nightmares. You say that you dream that Nat is falling, and that you can never reach her. You fall asleep together in the back of the car, many blankets wrapped around you.

When you wake up holding each other, neither of you really minds.

You are near Chicago when you drag Wanda to an arcade in the late afternoon.

You and Wanda try out all the toys that are allowed for you. It's fun, and loud. And you laugh so hard your cheeks hurt.

And then you eat hamburger and fries with soda sitting in a parking lot. You push Wanda's shoulder lightly with yours when she steals one of your fries.

You are in a clothing bazaar when you see Wanda's breasts for the first time. In between trying on various strange outfits for fun, the fifth or sixth time you return to the changing room, Wanda pulls you into the cabin with her. And she smiles so much that you hardly notice them.

When you get back to the motel, you bathe first. You touch yourself in the shower without really thinking about anything, but when you cum, the image of her breasts are in your mind.

In Michigan you bet on a race. And Wanda absolutely beats you. She has flushed cheeks and a sweaty face when you catch up with her. You think it's unfair that she looks so beautiful.

You watch the sunset, and Wanda thinks she has seen an owl.

Your body begins to betray you when Wanda hugs you and you tremble. You decide that it is because you have been a long time without touching another person intimately and being touched in the same way.

You joke with Wanda that you need to find a one-night stand, and she doesn't smile when she agrees with you.

As you drive towards Kansas, a waitress flirts with you. Wanda gets back in the car saying that she is tired, and you don't understand why kissing the waitress against a wall while she has one hand down your pants doesn't satisfy you.

You talk about death in Springfield. You are sharing popcorn while wrapped in a blanket sitting on the grass a few feet from the truck.

- You can't die. - She declares suddenly and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

- Wanda...?

- I won't... I won't survive.

You turned around quickly, and held up both your hands.

- I wouldn't like that. - You tell her. You know it's what she doesn't want to hear, but you need her to understand that. - I would never want your life to depend on mine.

Wanda sobs, lowering her head.

- I wish you would move on. - You nod to reaffirm her statement, your own face wet with tears. - I know... people expect me to say that I wish you would miss me, or not replace me. But I don't feel that way. - You confess. - I never want to be the reason for your unhappiness. If I die, and well, at some point I will, I want you to go on living. And enjoying it.

Wanda shakes her head, and jumps on your neck. She cries against your collarbone, but it's okay. You think she understood what you told her.

When she calms down, you are silent for several moments.

- What will you do if I die? - she asks, looking at you. You keep your gaze on the stars as you shrug;

- I would die too.

Wanda bites back a smile on her lips, and hugs you.

Bucky calls. You talk for five minutes. And then you text him that when he is ready you will be there to listen to him. You send a picture of you and Wanda, and when he calls again, you talk for five hours.

It takes four weeks since you left the compound to realize that you are in love with Wanda.

You are in a motel somewhere in Nebraska, and she is combing her hair in front of the television, a sitcom playing. And then she laughs, and you realize.

The realization doesn't surprise you though. You take a deep breath, and tell her you're going to get some air before you leave.

You lean back on the balcony, trying to push the guilt away. You can hardly believe it happened so fast and so intensely.

You decide that everything is too recent, and that it would be disrespectful to Wanda's grief, so you guard yourself.

You fight for the first time in Colorado. You are being stubborn and rude, and Wanda is being distant and judgmental. And then you are arguing about the next destination. And then you stop the car on the roadside, and Wanda says she's not going anywhere with you. And you are silent for forty minutes before you two start to cry.

You put your face against the steering wheel, and Wanda lifts her legs onto the seat and buries her face in her own arms.

It takes a long moment for you to calm down. And then you wipe away your tears and Wanda looks away into the window, and you drive away again.

You are staying in Utah for a few days. It is the first time you ask for separate rooms. You want to cry again, but you just take the key.

And then you can't sleep after four hours as you stare at the ceiling.

You get up, and go out onto the veranda. And your feet guide you to the next door. But before you can knock, Wanda opens it, and jumps into you, hugging you tight. Your body instantly relaxes, and you cry as you both apologize, and promise never to fight again.

You get drunk in Las Vegas. Really drunk. You don't remember ever laughing as hard as you did that night. You think Wanda used her powers to win the games, but you can't prove it. And then you're back in the truck, stumbling and laughing, and she has a look on her face that makes your stomach turn with nervousness.

But you swallow your nervousness with a smile, and accept the bottle of vodka she offers you. And then you are in a karaoke bar, singing at the top of your lungs for two hours into the early morning hours. When the owner kicks you out, Wanda holds your hand as you both run around town.

Back at the motel, you are laughing about something you can't remember, and then you fall into bed together, and instantly fall asleep.

When you wake up, you don't care about your headache.

You get the same tattoo in Las Vegas. Wanda holds and squeezes your hand while you are doing it, and you do the same to her. The tattoo artist thought you were married, and neither of you corrects him.

And then you take her to all the tourist spots, and you have ice cream and hot dogs. And Wanda's hand is warm against yours all the way.

On your last day in LA, you visit a nightclub. It is noisy, and lively, and has lots of alcohol. You find it hard to breathe when you see Wanda in a party dress, but she smiles and you follow her.

And then you dance and dance and dance, and you think about nothing. And then you're drunk again, and the girl at the bar is flirting with you. And Wanda's no longer smiling when she gets back on the dance floor.

You think the girl at the bar has asked for your number, but you're looking at Wanda dancing. And she moves her body with sensuality, and then there is a man behind her. Wanda kisses him while looking at you through the lights.

You take a shot of whiskey before leaving in a rage.

And when Wanda wakes up in the morning, she says she doesn't remember anything.

You think that you can no longer hide what you feel when you are on the road, heading for Oregon. But you just keep mumbling the song that plays on the radio.

Wanda bites her lip and has a lost look on her face, but when you ask her what's wrong, she looks away quickly as she says she was just distracted.

You are entertained by the music again.

You get used to your feelings in Portland. The routine helps you keep them quiet and buried deep in your chest.

You and Wanda begin to spend more time in inns, and camping, than on the road, but you still travel around the country.

And then Wanda talks about Vision for the first time. How important he had been, how much she missed him. You listen, and she asks about Nat. And you say that it is exactly the same way.

Neither of you cries anymore at the mention of their names.

It doesn't take long before the world needs you again. Sam calls. Stephen calls. You and Wanda throw your cell phones off a cliff, while toasting a lemonade.

- We are terrible superheroes, aren't we? - you ask looking at the horizon.

- The worst. - She replies before pouring her drink into her mouth.

You get your numbers back the same day by going to an electronics store.

And then you have to go back to New York.

Four hours down the road, and you both stop for a bite to eat in Cleveland, at a diner very similar to the one at your first stop.

Wanda walks ahead of you, hugging her own sweatshirt as she feels the late afternoon chill. You resist the urge to hug her.

- I'll have the waffles with chocolate and cereal. - You ask the waitress. Wanda stares at the menu for a few more seconds, biting her lower lip before speaking.

- I'll have the eggs and bacon with pancakes. - She asks right away.

You are silent for a moment, exchanging glances and quick smiles. And then the waitress returns with your plates.

- Are you ready to save the world again, Wandy? - you ask with a light irony in your voice before tasting your ceral.

Wanda smiles.

- Of course, of course. - She answers with humor. But her expression slowly falls, as if she is remembering something. You look at her with curiosity and concern.

- Are you all right?

- I just... - She begins. And then she straightens her posture, and diverts her eyes from yours. - What happens next? - You frown uncomprehendingly. Wanda looks unsure. - After we finish the job. This ends too?

You swallow dryly, feeling embarrassed and nervous. But you do your best to avoid showing it.

- Do you want it to end? - You ask.

- No. - She confesses as she looks into your eyes.- I'd like us to continue together.

- I'm not going anywhere, Wanda. - You assure her with a smile. And then you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling anxious. - Don't you... don't you wish you had a fixed place to stay?

Wanda blinks in confusion, looking surprised at your question.

- I just... I love the road and all. Mostly because you're with me. - You say, and don't notice her blush at the last sentence. - But I'd like to have a house. Especially now that we're going back to work. I wouldn't mind living in New York.

- Are you inviting me to move in with you? - Wanda asks with a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment, and you feel your face heat up.

- Yes, I ... I'd like that. - You say, and seeing Wanda's surprised expression, you hasten to add. - But I understand if you just want the road! That's fine, I'll stand by you too!

Wanda reaches your hand quickly over the table, and she has a huge smile on her lips.

- I would love to live with you.

- Oh. - You sigh ruefully, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your back. - Cool.

- Cool. - Wanda repeats with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye.

And then you go back to eating in silence.

You are in the passenger seat while Wanda hums a song along to the noise of the radio. It is dark and she is waiting for the first motel she can find to park. And you look at her, looking so good, and comfortable, and happy. And your brain is screaming how much you love her in an endless loop, while your heart threatens to explode in your chest.

So you think you'd better face the landscape because you're getting out of breath. But then Wanda is parking the car on the roadside, and you think maybe she's going to pee, but then she doesn't come out. You turn and find her gripping the steering wheel with both hands as she looks ahead.

- Hey, what happened? - you ask worriedly. Wanda closes her eyes.

- I read your mind.

The confession shocks you immediately.

- W-what? - You retort with a trembling voice.

Wanda opens her eyes, and lets go of the steering wheel. And she has a tender expression to calm you down.

- Hey, it's okay, I...

- No.

You mumble breathlessly, holding back tears, as you quickly unbuckle your seat belt and get out of the car.

You think you finally blew it. Wanda knew, and this was the end.

Leaning against the car, you hugged your arms as you tried to calm your breathing with your eyes closed. You were startled when Wanda touched your shoulders, not even having heard her get out of the car.

- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. - You cried when she hugged you. Your body was shaking. - I tried to avoid it. I'm sorry.

- Stop saying that. - She asked softly, letting her hands caress your back to calm you down. - You didn't do anything wrong. - She tries to say it, but you hold her tight, afraid she'll be gone at any moment. - Hey, look at me.

Wanda asks a few more times before you let go, trying to control your tears. Only when you look at her do you realize that she too has a crying face.

- I don't want to lose you. - You whimper. - I'll control myself, I can send them away. And everything will go back to the way it was before.

Wanda denies it with her head, raising her hands to your face. You think she's going to say you both can't do this anymore, and your stomach flips.

- I love you. - She confesses, looking up at you. - I love you. - She repeats as she wipes your tears with her fingers. You're too shocked to react. - I love you so much.

And then Wanda kisses you. And you stumble with fright, but the car behind you won't let you move away from her body. And then your eyes close, and you surrender. A long sigh escapes your lips as you feel Wanda's tongue on yours.

And you kiss until you are breathless. And then your body is warm, trembling, and Wanda kisses you again, and again, as she presses you against the car.

And then you don't want to be dressed anymore, as Wanda lets her hands run all over you.

You don't separate your mouths as you fall into the back seat, Wanda on top moaning into your mouth.

The glass of the car is fogged as your hand slips on the window, trembling at Wanda's intimate touch, and delighting in the sounds she makes when you kiss her in all the right places.

You are happy. Fucking delighted. And you didn't want to keep driving, not unless it was to a house that was going to be yours and Wanda's. But Stephen and Sam were calling, saying that you were taking too long. Then you drove back to New York, and this time, Wanda's hand was entwined in yours.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda vision #wandavision au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #marvel imagines #road trip au

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opera25 · 3 years ago

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so this started as a small idea and it snowballed I'm very sorry and also this should probably be cw for unreality and maybe other things but I think unreality is the big one. so, without further ado, angsty sad times with ethubs in relation to the death coffee. (not sure how this turned out u r welcome to ignore it I will not take offense it's just a word vomit lol)

bdubs, the first time it happens says something along the lines of you almost died never do that again and etho thought it was a hyperbole he was fiiiiine bdubs was just overreacting but maybe he's reluctant to freak him out like that again. except that line, that barrier in the apartment tells him that maybe he doesn't matter to bdubs anymore. and the comfort of his sweet dreams warped into an cesspool of never-ending nightmares. and he doesn't want to sleep but it's so hard to stay awake when he'd gotten used to going to bed early and waking late and maybe he just needs something anything to get him through another sleepless night.

so maybe he get another one of those coffees. it didn't taste bad in the first place and it tastes even better now that he's desperate. he finishes it before he gets home.

it's fine. he can feel his heart beating out of his chest. he shifts in his seat and turns on hhis computer. panic rises within him.

it's fine. is bdubs home yet? even though they don't talk much anymore, he still likes to keep track of him. he might be out there, hurt, fighting for his life while ethos not around to help.

it's fine. he stumbles out of his room to face the cobblestone, marker?, something keeping him away from checking on him. he can't tell if the walls are drywall or snow anymore. his hands shake against it either way.

he's fine. he can't see bdubs anywhere from his side of the fort. "bdubs!" he calls. He'll come if he hears. they're best friends husbands. every breath he takes weighs him down more and more. he tries again. his knees buckle and he's on the floor, coughing as he feels bile rise in his throat.

Help, he cries. his vision blurs and mind fogs. he doesn't know how long he's been there when he feels warm arms gently tugging at his body, bringing him up and away from here.

*Breathes in*

*head in hands*

Anon, what in the world- When you said "A small idea and it snowballed" (lmao was that an intentional pun??) I was not expecting to literally get my heart ripped out. WHAT. I. I don't know what to say to this except I was the equivalent of that one kermit flailing his arms around the first 5 minutes after I read this

So now all of you reading this can suffer with me yayy <3

Also speaking of cw and tws! I should probably tag them from now on. Any suggestions for tw tags? Thank you!

#still head in hands #are you okay anon?#we re here for you #MLL #ope ask #tw unreality

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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years ago

Text

Then & Now (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past

A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.

A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!

~v~

“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”

Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?

“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”

“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”

Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”

“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”

Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.

As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.

They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.

The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”

“That’d be ideal–”

Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”

The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”

“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”

Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”

“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”

“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”

Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”

“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.

“Well, I am your boss.”

“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”

“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”

Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”

“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”

Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”

Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”

“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”

“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”

“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”

The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.

“We’re calling it a night.”

~v~

Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.

He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.

“Shit!”

He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.

Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”

“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.

“How long did it last?”

“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”

“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”

Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”

Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Gotcha.”

“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”

There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”

Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.

They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”

The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”

“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”

“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”

Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”

“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I’m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”

“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”

“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”

“You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”

~v~

“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”

Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.

“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”

“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”

“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”

“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.

“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”

Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.

“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”

“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”

Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.

Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.

“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”

“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”

His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.

They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.

Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”

“Well what brings you down here?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”

“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”

“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”

“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”

“No thank you.”

“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”

“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”

“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”

The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.

Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.

The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”

When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”

Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”

“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”

“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”

The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

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colossalcriminal · 4 years ago

Text

Uptown Girl - s.r

Pairing: 40s!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: 25 year old Steve Rogers finds himself infatuated with the well off 18 year old girl who gets Howard Stark coffee.

Warnings: Smoking, alcohol consumption and character death. Not proofread and bad writing.

He'd seen her around plenty, hell, he knew her. Almost always gliding through the streets in the most beautiful designer dresses, sometimes with another girl, arms clad in shopping bags from some of the greatest fashion houses. She also had a knack for wearing trousers that accentuated her legs, always receiving a flustered reaction from the men around her.

It was no doubt she was stunning, perhaps the prettiest girl he'd ever seen in his short 24 years of living. Bucky had always teased him relentlessly, encouraging his best friend to 'snatch her up before someone else does.'

It was a regular occurrence for him to be saved in an alleyway by the sergeant, especially when Steve Rogers didn't know when to back down, or how to. It was only when he showed Steve the newspaper he noticed her figure further down the alley, puffs of smoke leaving her lips.

Steve Rogers found it hard to understand how someone as beautiful as her could commit to an ugly act such as smoking. He was ashamed to admit that the nasty habit hadn't once dwindled his infatuation towards her. "Hey, Y/N!" Bucky called out, gaining her attention. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

Y/N sauntered over to the men with her signature dazzling smile, lips painted in the most ravishing shade of red that'd printed onto the cigarette that rested between her fingers. "Howard's got me off early." She gasped, instantly putting the cigarette out. "Sorry, Steve. I almost forgot I shouldn't light one around you."

Steve's smile reeked with nerves. "It's okay." He stuttered.

"So, he's Howard now?" Bucky nudged her.

She rolled her eyes, resting a hand on her hip. "Put a cap on it, Barnes. Anyways, where are you boys off to?"

"Your boss' expo." He displayed the paper to her, pointing to the large ad.

With a small nod, her attention was back on the skinny boy. "Picking me up, Steve?"

Waking up from his day dream, finally in the headspace to speak to the magnificent woman before him, his nod was quick. "Huh? Oh, yes. Definitely."

"I'll see you later tonight at 6pm sharp, then. Bye." She grinned at the blonde, waving as she proceeded to walk away.

"Bye, Y/N." His reply was too quiet to hear as she was too far away, but the butterflies in his stomach didn't care for that. Sighing at Bucky's light chuckles, he shook his head, mentally scolding himself for the awkward interaction.

"At least you got a date."

"Yeah," He whispered to himself, almost impressed. "at least I got a date."

6:01pm his watch read as he stood before the house - mansion - nervous creeping up the back of his spine, the large house looming over him as if he were in a nightmare.

And it was the exact time she popped her head out of her bedroom window signaling to Steve. "Just wait a minute! Dad's home, so I have to escape!" She whisper-yelled.

He'd gotten a glance of her frock. His heart pounding at the view of her hair curled into perfect ringlets, makeup even more accentuating than it was earlier that day. He watched her disappear, before quietly slipping through the front door and making her way to him. "Sorry, he doesn't like me being out in the evening."

"Well, I can understand with a beautiful dame like you, sorry woman, not dame. Young woman."

Y/N giggled at his ramble. "You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?" Steve smiled bashfully at her lightheartedness. "It's alright, not like I'm anyone important."

He cocked his head inquisitively. "And what do you mean by that?"

Sighing, she looped her arm through his, an action that sent his vision loopy as he inwardly cheered. "I mean, I'm just a girl with big dreams who spends daddy's money and gets coffee for Howard Stark. Nothing big."

Steve maintained his unfazed exterior, resisting the urge to stare down at their linked arms. "Tell me about these big dreams."

"I want to be a scientist, well, more of a techy one like Howard is. The idea of flying cars within a few years is so, invigorating!" She beamed. "Don't you think?"

He smiled at her, nodding. "Well, I hope you'll be around to fly our first car, considering you're so insistent on enlisting."

"Bucky thinks I can't do it, that's why they keep rejecting me."

Y/N hummed, lips curling into a small pout. "I think you could do it," He perked up at this. "you could. But just because you can, doesn't mean you should, Steve."

Before he could respond, they'd already been greeted and called over from afar by Bucky.

Y/N didn't let herself feel too downhearted when Stark's flying car show failed, but she did find herself frowning when she followed Steve to the recruitment booth.

She pulled him towards her, Bucky not far off. "Come on, soldier." She joked. "Take me dancing."

"You go ahead, I'll catch up."

Guilt had presented itself to Steve on a silver platter when he saw her shoulders drop. "You're really going to do this again?" Bucky deadpanned, unimpressed.

"I'll leave you guys to talk it out. Meet me there?" The blonde nodded, missing her small wave as she departed.

An hour and 49 minutes later she found herself walking home alone, rubbing her arms in an attempt to abandon any feeling of cold, or even worse, loneliness.

It was 2 days later when Steve finally caught her leaving her office, cigarette in hand. He couldn't help it when he gazed at the pearl earrings she wore, framing her face so perfectly, accompanied by the stray hairs that'd escaped her updo.

"Y/N!"

His voice had only expanded her annoyance as she watched the smoke exit her mouth, ignoring his calls. "Go away, Rogers."

He panted, finally catching up to her. "I'm sorry, I really am."

"What for? The fact that you ditched me on our date or that you went radio silent for 2 days?"

He pursed his lips, closing his eyes in regret. "Please, let me take you out again before I start training?"

Y/N let out a dry chuckle. "Congrats." She put out her cigarette, still mindful of the blond's asthma. "That's not the point, Steve. I wanted to go out with you because I like you! Because you're different! But it turns out I was wrong. So, good luck in training, I'm sure you'll do great. If you're alive by the end of the war, come find me."

"Please, Y/N. I really, really like you."

She'd already began walking away. "You should've thought about that before you asked to get yourself killed."

Without much thought, Steve reached forward, wrapping his fingers around her wrist as soft as possible, the surprise on her face echoed onto his own. "And what if I don't die?"

Scoffing, she shook her head. "You sound so certain."

"Because I am."

"I will not wait for you to come home and receive a letter explaining your death instead."

"Deal."

With a peculiar brow, Y/N sighed. "Where are we going then, Mr. Rogers?"

His lips spread into a beautiful grin. "Anywhere you want, Ms. L/N."

They'd spent 3 full days together before Steve began training.

The first day was spent at and around the theatre, watching as many movies as possible and eating as much popcorn as one can.

The second day, he made it up to her by taking her dancing. Y/N took the time to teach him how to waltz, giggling every time he stepped on her shoes.

The third day was spent at his home, alone. Away from the crowded atmosphere of her house, she taught him how to cook the simplest of dishes, making sure he knew how to feed himself incase no one else did.

It was hard for her not to get teary eyed as Y/N layed her hands on his cheeks, cupping his face daintily. Steve leaned into the soft touch, corners of his mouth tugging downwards. "So, I guess this is goodbye."

"Yeah, it is." He whispered, eyes staring into hers with utmost intensity, a false reality in his head tricking him into believing he wouldn't have to leave her if their eyes never broke contact.

"You better make it back to me, Rogers."

"Of course I will, Y/N."

The grief had already sunk in her, the feeling in her belly so overwhelming, heart fluttering violently as she pulled him to her, lips touching so softly. Steve didn't freeze like he thought he would- he didn't have time to freeze. He did his best, pulling her closer and kissing him back with the most confidence he could muster.

Y/N's smile was almost minuscule when they pulled away, hands moving down to grip onto his uniform, her head in a lovesick daze. "How could I not make it back to you?"

"Well, I am your best girl."

He quirked an eyebrow. "My only girl."

"We'll see about that when you come home a war hero. All the ladies would drop down to your feet."

"All the women in the world and I'd still choose you."

Returning home, she closed the front door quietly, making her way to the living room to find her father engrossed in the small tv box. "Hi." She spoke quietly, hoping not to disturb him as she kissed his cheek, hoping to walk away.

"Sit." Y/N's father offered her the seat next to him, never taking his eyes off the program as she sunk into the sofa, her frock filling out around her. "Lowell's been talking a lot."

She stiffened slightly, subconsciously crossing her legs and straightening her shoulders. "Oh, you know not to listen to Lowell. All he does is gossip. Him and his wife, vultures they are."

"He tells me you've been spending a lot of time with Sarah's boy, Steve."

"Yes, I have. He just recently went off to train."

He finally looked at her. "You scared?"

"A little."

"Then it's a mistake."

Y/N's face was blank as she fiddled with her fingernails and stared off into the distance. "I know."

Her father shook his head. "Then you'll know to break it off."

"No, I won't." He looked perplexed at her reply. "Because it may be a mistake now, he may die any day, but at least I'd gotten the chance to be with him."

He only huffed, muttering something along the lines of "Childish."

She decided to change the subject, not wanting the conversation to sour even more. "Where's Eliza?"

"She's out."

"What are we watching?"

"The Mark of Zorro."

"Can we watch something else? Sullivan's Travels is on."

"No."

"I'll be in my room then."

"Fine."

She stood, getting one last glimpse of her father. "You know daddy, I do love him. And who knows? Maybe he'll survive. Maybe we'll get married and live a happily ever after. If that does happen, I hope you'll be happy for me."

She knew they were selecting the 'lucky' one to be titled 'super soldier.' She'd been working alongside Howard, the older man curious of her expertise for an 18 year old but nonetheless grateful for her help.

Y/N certainly didn't expect Steve to walk through the doors of the laboratory, accompanied by Peggy Carter. "Jesus Christ, Steve." She gasped, embracing him.

He wrapped his arms around her, concern growing when the smallest patch of tears had formed on his t-shirt. He watched as she pulled away. "Hi." Steve greeted.

"Oh, hi." She chuckled through tears. "I'm sorry, go talk to Erskine and we'll chat later." His hands lingered on her, before he slowly nodded, doing as told.

Minutes later, her fear only grew as he layed down in what she called the pod. "Comfortable?" She queried.

"It's a little big." He commented. Y/N graced him with her smile, a real, but concerned smile. "Maybe we could get dinner later?"

"Alright, loverboy. One thing at a time." She teased. "Howard, what are our levels?"

"Levels at 100%."

"I have to say something," He almost begged. "I think I'm in love with you."

Chuckling, she held his face in her hands. "I think I'm in love with you, too, Steve." Blowing him a kiss, she waved her love goodbye before leaving to stand beside Howard. "We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready as we'll ever be."

She just barely missed Steve's terrified, longing glance that had remained on her back as she worked diligently, how the cold metal around him sent shivers down his spine, aching for the warmth of her touch.

Erskine began his speech into the microphone. "but we are ready as we'll ever be. today we take not another step towards annihilation, but the first step on the path to peace. We begin with a series of microinjections into the subject's major muscle groups. The serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change. And then, to stimulate growth, the subject will be saturated with Vita-Rays. Serum infusion beginning in five, four, three, two, one."

Hesitating the slightest bit, Y/N pulled the lever, eyes tearing at Steve's small grunts as each small vial emptied itself. Howard pulled his own lever, elevating the pod into a standing form, closing the blonde in. "Steven? Can you hear me?"

"It's probably too late to go to the bathroom now, right?"

She couldn't help but smile at his witty answer. "We will proceed."

"10%."

"20%."

"30."

"That's 40%."

"Vital signs are normal."

"That's 50%."

"60."

"70."

The beam emitting from the pod became too bright for the eye, the sound of Steve's groans had morphed into pained screams, shattering Y/N's heart with every yell. "Shut it down! Kill the reactor, Howard!"

"No!" He protested. "Don't! I can do this!"

Howard looked at her with a sense of sympathy. "Eighty."

"Ninety."

"That's 100%."

Sparks had erupted throughout the machinery, surges of light blinding them until it had died down, everything and everyone dead silent. Within seconds, the pod had opened, revealing a brand new Steve Rogers.

Y/N cried in relief, instantly running to tend to him, helping him out of the device. "You did it, sweetheart."

"I did it."

"Yes, you did. How do you feel?"

He panted, surveying his surroundings before looking down at her. "Taller."

She barely took a minute to lock her gaze onto the newly formed muscles on his body.

With a giggle, she handed him a shirt. "You look taller." He grinned, using his newfound strength to pick her up, a loud squeal leaving her painted lips.

A loud explosion went off, the glass pane that guarded the viewing room had shattered onto the people congratulating Erskine below. Erskine had fallen to the ground after multiple gunshots, Steve making his way to the scientist while Y/N had continued shooting at the perpetrator as he escaped, soon running after him.

Running out onto the street, she caught her breath, deathly stare on the car that had her target. She shot once, no luck. Once again, the vehicle had swerved, colliding with a parked car nearby.

Kruger had gotten into a different car, accelerating at full speed towards the young woman, challenging her as she raised her gun once again.

No impact or gunshot ever occurred as Steve had pulled her out of the way, leaving her on the sidewalk. "I had him!"

"Sorry!" He ran, leaving her to pursue Kruger himself.

After Y/N had helped Steve save the men of the 107th, the pair had received a few weeks of reprieve in the beautiful city of London.

Steve admired her as she applied the black pigment onto her eyes with utmost accuracy, the trousers and blouse she wore complimenting her in such marvelous ways he couldn't comprehend. He got up from where he stood, taking long strides towards her, placing a hand on her waist and smiling when his reflection came into view on her vanity mirror. "Hi."

"Hello." She giggled, leaning into him. "Enjoying the view?"

He nodded, swiftly turning her to face him. His grin had dropped into a sly smile as he let go of her, ignoring her inquisitive looks as he dropped down, one knee hitting the carpeted floor. Pulling out a small box, she gasped instantly. "The ring isn't expensive, or lavish." He started, displaying the solitaire diamond ring.

"Oh my god, Steve."

"I love you, Y/N. I want to grow old with you, and share my life with you. I want to have a future with you, and I want it to start now. Right here in this obnoxiously rainy place," They both laughed. "will you marry me?"

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, nodding with clouded eyes filled with tears. "Oh, of course I'll marry you, Steve." She pulled him up, smushing his face against her own into a kiss, the pair of them smiling into it. "I wouldn't want anything else."

Steve wasn't lying when he said he wanted to start now, within 5 days he stood at the end of a chapel with Bucky by his side as best man and Y/N in a pearly white frock and a makeshift veil bought at the nearest corner shop.

It didn't matter that the dress was picked out last minute, or that the veil was advertised to be a gag gift. Nothing could rival the grins on the couples' faces when they said "I do." rings slipping onto their fingers and lips joining in a moment of utter bliss.

It was later that night when Y/N crawled out of bed, slipping on Steve's blazer to shield her bare body from the cold air seeping into the bedroom through the open window. Sitting at the desk, pen in hand, she sucked in a deep breath.

Dear daddy,

We're in London now. Steve managed to save the men of the 107th, I'm sure you've seen the posters all around. He's America's beacon of hope.

I hope Eliza and ma are good. I hope you're good.

I'm writing to let you know that Steve and I got married today. It was fast, we just got engaged last week, but nothing has ever felt more right. Writing this letter, the ring sparkling in the moonlight, it's perfect. I don't regret anything.

Steve has assembled his team, they called themselves the Howling Commandos and I couldn't be more proud. He promises that once they get all of HYDRA's bases, the war will be over and everything will hopefully go back to normal.

I got my happy end, daddy. I know it's not the end, it's just the beginning of a perfect life. A perfect life with my perfect husband, and hopefully my perfect family. I hope you're happy for me.

With all my love,

Y/N Rogers.

"What are you writing, Mrs. Rogers?" Steve queried, sat upright in bed.

Y/N smirked before climbing back into bed, ridding herself of the severely oversized blazer. "Nothing, Mr. Rogers."

The pair broke out into a fit of laughter as he pulled her close, hand trailing up and down her back, dangerously close to the soft skin of her backside.

2 years later, a year after the well grieved death of Bucky Barnes, Y/N had turned 20 and the couple had decided it was time to add to their family now that some light was finally at the end of the tunnel after a long 6 years of war.

Tangled in a mess of sheets, limbs intertwined, Y/N rested her head on her lover's heartbeat. "Do you think we made a baby?" She asked timidly.

"Maybe." She let out a faint giggle, eliciting a look of confusion from the super soldier. "What is it?"

"Do you think the baby will be super duper strong? A mini Steve who can lift an entire car up as a little boy?"

Steve chuckled, snuggling her closer. "Or a little girl, just as strong as you. Either way, they'd be beautiful."

She hummed, a hand on his cheek. "With my eyes and your beautiful blond hair, I'd think so."

It was that same day Y/N would find herself supervising one of Steve's missions from base. "Come in, this is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?"

She instantly rushed over to the microphone. "Steve? Is that you? Are you okay?"

"Y/N! Schmidt's dead!"

"What about the plane?"

"That's a little bit tougher to explain."

She huffed. "Give me your coordinates, I'll find you a safe landing site."

"There's not going to be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down."

"I'll get Howard on, he'll know what to do."

"There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York. I got to put her in the water."

Y/N's stomach dropped, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest as she anxiously twisted her wedding and engagement rings. "Please don't do this. We have time, we can work this out." She begged, eyes brimming with tears.

"Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are going to die, sweetheart. This is my choice, Y/N." She didn't say anything, her head dropping onto the palm of her hands. "Y/N, honey?"

"I'm here."

"We might have to reschedule that doctor's appointment."

Taking in a shaky breath, she wiped the tears of her cheeks with haste, as if Steve could see her. "Alright. I'll book it for Monday."

"You got it."

"10am, on the dot. We can't be late, it's our baby. If there is one in there."

"I want you to know, I love you, Y/N. No matter what. You'll always be my best girl. My only girl."

"I love you too, Steve."

"I was thinking about names. I want to name it after your dad if it's a boy."

She choked a sob, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. I don't mind."

"And if it's a girl-"

"Steve?" Nothing. Not a single breath. She collapsed onto the desk in a mess of tears and loud cries, not caring for Colonel Phillips who stood behind her, a look of pity set on her back.

2011 was a long way away from 1945, Steve thought.

It'd taken him too long to come to terms with the fact that his wife was most likely dead, but when Nick Fury had presented him a box of her belongings, he couldn't help but shed a tear as he sat on the floor of his apartment going through it.

He'd found the necklace he gifted her on their first wedding anniversary, an accessory he now wore himself under his clothing, slipping her wedding and engagement ring onto the chain before putting it on. He grasped it close to his heart, a melancholy sigh leaving his lips.

His eyes narrowed when he came across an unfamiliar book, flipping it open.

Dear Steve,

The war is finally over as of 2 days ago, Japan formally surrendered. I wish you were able to celebrate the victory you worked so hard for.

You missed our doctor's appointment today. You'll be sleeping on the couch tonight after I reminded you to be there at 10am, no later.

I'm pregnant, Steve. What we've been waiting so long for has finally happened and you're not here to see it. I've decided to work with Howard once the baby is here, he'll give me flexible hours and good pay. Enough to keep us going and Peggy's good company.

I'm alone now, now Bucky to help me out, no you. I think I'll keep the house. It would be nice for the baby to grow up in the house we bought together.

I don't know why I've started writing in this stupid thing.

With all my love,

Y/N.

The super soldier let out a strained sob at the confirmation. She was pregnant, and he wasn't there.

He'd missed the entirety of his child's life, and the rest of hers.

The next few pages were short blurbs of her outings with Peggy and Howard, grocery lists and so on.

Dear Steve,

The baby is getting big, I've got a little bump now. Only 24 weeks to go.

Everyone is really excited, maybe more than I am. It's all over the papers "Wife of Captain America pregnant with America's Next Hope."

In truth, I don't want our child to be America's Next Hope.

I just want them to be happy and healthy, and to stay with me forever.

Howard's started building the crib, I told him not to make it too technical. He's putting all kinds of soothers and all everywhere, but it's still nice of him to do so. Peggy took me to London for Christmas and New Year's, we had a nice time and she bought me this beautiful dress. You would've loved it.

I miss you, Steve.

Merry Christmas and a happy new year, my love.

Forever yours,

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

It's getting warmer, and April has never felt hotter. Howard and Peggy keep saying it's just me and my big belly. Well, what else would I expect at 7 months pregnant?

Sometimes I feel you around. I'll feel you sitting at the kitchen counter, reading the paper. Or your hand on my belly in the morning. You're all over the house and somehow it's breaking and mending my heart at the same time.

These daily entries are getting a bit boring now, aren't they?

I hope you read these in a different lifetime, maybe.

Your only girl,

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

Josephine Sarah Stephanie Rogers was born on the 6th of June, 1946.

I named her after your dad, Joe.

I know we never talked about girl names, but I looked at her and I couldn't resist. I just know our little girl is going to change the world, just like your father tried to.

She's a carbon copy of you. Your gorgeous blue eyes, bright blonde hair. She's absolutely perfect, Steve.

And I just know that if you'd met her, she'd have you wrapped around her finger.

But she's all ours, baby. Our little angel, and I couldn't thank you enough for giving me such a stunning gift. Thank you for making me a mother, Steve, it's the best thing I could've ever received from you.

We love you to the moon and back,

Y/N and Josephine.

Steve held his hand to his mouth. He was a father, a father to what would now be a 65 year old woman. A woman who'd already lived most her life, achieved a majority of her milestones, all without him.

Dear Steve,

Happy birthday, my love.

Josephine and I made a cake for you. Today you would have turned 28 years old.

Colonel Phillips visited me today. It was brief, really. He played with Josephine and wished us well.

As I write this ridiculous entry, the wedding rings on my finger feel so heavy, unlike ever before. My heart constantly aches for you, but I will wait. I will wait until it is my time, and I hope you'll be waiting for me at the gates of heaven.

Your ever most loving wife,

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

It's been one year since you've been gone.

I miss you, more than anything in the world.

I'll see you soon, but not too soon.

Dear Steve,

Josephine turned 1 today.

Howard and Peggy threw a party, and you know how Howard's parties are. This one was child friendly, though. He brought a circus and entertained Josephine and all of her little friends from daycare.

Daddy dropped by. He loves Josephine, and he spent most of the day telling her all about you.

She said her first word today. Guess what it was!

Dada. She said your name, Steve. And she'll never forget it.

Wait for me,

Y/N.

Steve only brushed his tears away, flipping through every entry over the next few years.

Dear Steve,

Jo turned 16 today.

It's so odd to think that just 16 years ago I was only 20, trying my best to bring her into the world. We made such a beautiful young woman, Steve, and she's exactly like you. She has a hard shell but she's a big softie on the inside.

I've never been so grateful for a human being. She takes care of me, always telling me the best things to use and the best things to buy instead of it being the other way around. She's my protector, my guardian angel. In that way, she took your place.

Peggy helped me throw a big birthday party for her, she deserves it. She's worked so hard in and out of school. All of her friends came, they danced and ate. We got a massive cake to go with it.

Everyday she hugs your picture and thanks you, and today was no different.

I hope you're looking down on us with a smile, sweetheart.

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

Jo turned 18 a few days ago. I couldn't write because I took her to Paris for her birthday.

I'd been planning the trip for a long time, saving up as much as I could. She loved it! She also told me she got into Juilliard, which is a performing arts school in New York. It's far, farther away than she's ever been from me, but it's only an hour drive. She promises to come home every weekend.

I don't have to worry about paying for it anymore after Howard, Phillips, Peggy and I founded SHIELD. It's protection for the world, saving lives, just like you did.

I have to go, Jo's asking me to help her pack.

I love you,

Y/N.

He read through the brief entries of Y/N's time at SHIELD, before stopping at a picture. Juilliard, class of 1969.

She was right. Jo had inherited all of Steve's looks, from the blonde hair and blue eyes to the kind smile she graced the camera with.

Steve finally got to the end of the journal. Recovering after reading through her daughter's longtime boyfriend turned husband, the births of their grandchildren, the death of Howard Stark and more.

Dear Steve,

I like to think I lived a good 76 years of life. I lived to see the year 2001.

I got an education, got myself a job despite spending my father's money because I was young and stupid. I met you, the skinny boy who told me to follow my dreams of being a scientist. I fell in love with you, and the new you that emerged after the serum.

My love for you is eternal, which has been proven in the 55 years I've spent without you.

I lived to see my only child succeed, I lived to walk her down the aisle. I lived to see my beautiful grandchildren.

I've lived more than enough, and I think it's finally time to come home to you, honey.

I'll see you soon.

Y/N.

Steve brought his left hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the wedding band that rested on his finger.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back." Steve smirked, carrying the briefcase containing the six infinity stones.

Bucky gave him a sad smile. "How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you." They shared a hug. "I'm gonna miss you, buddy. Tell her I said hi."

"Yeah, Buck. It's gonna be alright."

"How long is this going to take?" Sam questioned as the super soldier stepped onto the heavy machinery.

"For him, as long is he needs. For us, 5 seconds. Ready Cap?"

"I'll be back."

Y/N paced around, lip caught between her teeth. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" She stopped abruptly, turning to face the new voice.

Sighing a breath of relief, she leaped into his arms. "Steve! You're back."

"Yeah, honey. I'm back."

#Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers imagine #Steve rogers #avengers #Steve rogers x y/n #Steve rogers x you #captain america #Captain America x reader #Captain America x y/n #Captain America x you #Steve rogers fanfic #Steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfic #Captain America fanfiction #marvel

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years ago

Text

𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

Chapter 2: bad was the blood

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,376

Summary: blessed with telepathic abilities since birth, you were captured by HYDRA and turned into one of their weapons to kill. after the blip, you were pardoned by the government and you were obliged to check up with dr. raynor everyday which you had no clue would lead you to the one soul you’d been waiting for.

Warnings: SMUT!! (18+) angst, mentions of anxiety, nightmares, murders.

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @ohmickeyhenry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for trusting me with your story. i sincerely hope you like it.

It had been a week since you and Bucky reunited and ever since that night, you and him were practically inseparable. Your bedroom was next to his and each night, he always came to yours to catch up on things and some nights, your conversation would go so deep that he would find himself waking up in your bed when the sun rises. He’d always leave your bed slowly to go into his room so that he wouldn’t wake you.

Each night he sleeps next to you, his nightmare became less intense. They still haunted him but they were vague, it was as if the faces of his victims become blurry and the echoes become whispers. One night, Bucky came back home from a small mission late and by the time he arrived at the compound, you were already asleep. Bucky knew the passcode to your door so he could let himself in anytime. He typed in those numbers and slowly opened the door and he smiled at the view of you sleeping peacefully. He would watch you sleep all night if he could, but he was exhausted and so were you, so he left you alone to rest.

Beads of sweat rolled down your skin as the cold air sent shivers down your spine. You watched the emotions in Natasha’s eyes vanished, as if her soul left her body and that’s left was the vessel. Sam, Tony and Bruce stood there like statues, waiting for your order. They had one thing in common with Natasha and that was the void of emotion. You felt a sense of pride in turning the Avengers into lifeless soldiers. They were at your mercy, you could command them to destroy the entire world with only a whisper.

Then you felt a cold grip on your arm, “Y/N… Why are you doing this?” Those steel blue eyes held so much pain in them as if he had just been betrayed by the person he trusted the most. “Stop this now! This isn’t you.” Bucky pleaded.

“Stand back soldier, or you are next.”

“No, I won’t let you do this to our friends.”

“Stand back. I will not ask you once again,” you warned him without a hint of uncertainty.

“Stop this, now or I will.” Bucky opposed.

“Very well,” with merely a glare, you activated the soldier you once knew. Years ago in the cold bunker of Hydra, ready to murder with a single order.

“готов подчиниться.”

You watched his blue eyes turned to ice, imitating his infamous name. You smirked and leaned close to his ear, “welcome back, soldier.”

You thrashed your body in your sheets and woke up with a loud scream. You thought you were doing well but the nightmare returned. You were doing what you dreaded again to your friends, the people you considered your family now. You sat up in your bed and sobbed until you heard Bucky opened your door with a concerned gaze. “Y/N, are you okay…?” He didn’t hesitate in running to you and sat next to you on your bed.

“I didn’t mean to, I- I never meant to hurt anyone…” You sobbed against Bucky’s chest as he wrapped his arm around you. His flesh arm held your head close to where his heart was beating and he tried to calm you down by stroking your hair and shushed you. He didn't know what you meant by that and he had many questions to ask but he understood better than anyone that in this state, integrating you would only cause more damage, so he let you cry it all out and comfort you in every way he could.

“It’s okay, y/n. I’m here, it’s going to be okay.”

You cried as you laid on Bucky’s chest until exhaustion took you over. You didn’t remember when you both began to drift away but as Bucky was sleeping, he saw visions of you doing heinous things to people, innocent souls who were held against their wills. He heard their screams and their pleas, but they weren’t looking at him, they were looking at… Her. Bucky had never seen her gaze so cold. Then he was transported into another scene… The place where HYDRA used to store him. It was one of the Russian Armed Forces, Vasily Karpov who was in charge of him during his Winter Soldier years.

Bucky remembered every second he spent trapped in the chair as he was given his orders. But this time, it was her strapped on that chair, screaming in agony. He watched him spelling out the activation words, they were different than his but just as effective. Bucky tried to reach her out, wanting to punch all those men and get her out of there but somehow his feet were stuck in place.

As the last word was uttered, he watched the woman he had slowly fallen in love with disappeared, replaced by a soulless soldier who was ready to kill anything that stood in her way. Bucky woke up to faint echoes of his name being called, “Bucky…” And slowly, he began to come back to life, and he saw her face, still the woman he knew, not the soldier in his dream, looming over him. “Did you see it?”

Bucky instantly sat up as he stared at her, “you were one of the winter soldiers. You were there.”

You nodded, “I was… They never referred to me as the winter soldier, however, I was treated just the same as you were. I had the same purpose as you.”

“How come you never told me?” His gaze was soft, he didn’t sound disappointed or betrayed, he just sounded… Worried.

“I couldn’t… I just didn’t know where to begin. I didn’t want to ruin what we had so I figured, if I left you first, I wouldn’t have to hurt you too and I was afraid that if you found out, you’d never look at me the same.”

“Sweetheart, we are both haunted by the same things. I’d never hate you for what you did. Don’t you think I didn’t have the same fears before? We’ll get through this together, I promise.” He held your face in his hands, the contrast of temperature in both of his hands was somehow soothing you, reminding you that he was once just as peccable as you were.

“But I don’t trust myself, Bucky. Someone could find the book and if they say the words, I could hurt people again… I could hurt you too. And I don’t know if I would ever come back.”

“I won’t let that happen, I promise you. I couldn’t trust my own mind too until I went to Wakanda and they fixed me. They removed the winter soldier program and now I’m free.”

“Is that… Possible?”

“Yes, I’ll explain everything in the morning but, right now, we need to rest.”

“Okay…” you were feeling rather drowsy, not only physically but emotionally too. It was never easy to unravel such shame and remorse.

Bucky laid back and opened his arm for you to sneak under it. You placed your head on his chest, feeling safe and sound being so close to him. Bucky’s fingers tangled with your hair as he kissed your forehead. “Promise you’ll be here when I wake up?”

“I promise,” he whispered.

The sound of his steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

The next morning, Bucky and you had breakfast together. It was early, the dawn had just begun, and some of the Avengers were out for a run or still asleep. You and Bucky had some alone time in the kitchen and you were thankful for the brief moment of solitude.

“So, what I said last night…” Bucky initiated the conversation as he put his coffee mug on the table. “I really think our best option is to go to Wakanda, y/n. They’ve got the best medical equipment, the people are extremely smart, they’ll take care of you. Just like they took care of me.”

“What makes you think they want to treat me, Buck? I mean, they took you in because the king and Steve made an agreement, but they have no idea who I am and even if they do, they don’t owe me anything.”

“The Wakandans may be resourceful and independent, but they are generous people too. I’ll call Ayo and sort everything out. They can spare me a few more favours.”

“If they agree to treat me, I only wanna go if you go too. I don’t wanna be alone in a country I’ve never been to before, Buck. I’m not familiar with their culture, I don’t speak their language, I don’t wanna fuck it up, you know?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you every step of the way. I promise.”

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Because you’re the only good thing that happened to me in the past seventy years.”

You never believed in butterflies, but you swore in that moment, the whole damn zoo went nuts. Bucky had a way to make you feel loved and cherished, and you were falling fast. You just hoped that he’d be there to catch you.

The sincerity in his eyes made you smile like you never had before. Looking back, the only times you had ever genuinely smiled was because of Bucky. His texts, his face, his touches, they were your newfound grace. Bucky told you that you were the only good thing that happened to him in the past seventy years, but so was he to you. Was it possible for two fucked up people who had done heinous things to find such love? You could only hope that nothing would come in the way of that.

Wakanda was a breath of fresh air. Figuratively and literally. You loved New York, no matter what, it would always be your home. However, Wakanda could definitely give New York a run for its money. The air was free out of pollutions from vehicles, everywhere you look, the landscape was filled with scenic greenery and not to mention the futuristic architectures yet deeply rooted in their culture. The people were welcoming and kind, yet they were not to be crossed over.

When you and Bucky first landed, the king himself, T’Challa with Okoye and Ayo by his sides welcomed you. It was intimidating to be in their presence, yet you were fascinated by how graceful they were. You were hoping that your anxiety wouldn’t make you do something dumb or stupid in front of them so as soon as you were out of the quinjet that Sam was flying, you bowed in front of the king. “We don’t do that here…” T’Challa declared.

You swore you could pass out from embarrassment. Bucky chuckled when you straightened your pose. T’Challa shook hands with Bucky like they were old friends, so did he with Sam. Bucky had been communicating with Ayo regarding your visit today so he didn’t have to explain why you were there anymore. They led you to Shuri’s lab where the miracle occurs.

When she saw you, she was nothing like you expected. She was younger than you but she seemed so ahead of you. She seemed so ahead of everyone in the room. She was bright and had an effervescent personality. The lab was unlike anything you’d ever seen, even Tony’s lab in the compound wasn’t as swanky as this one. Shuri’s lab had equipment you didn't even know existed.

She greeted you both, “welcome back Sergeant Barnes, and who’s your girlfriend?” her bluntness caught you off guard.

“Princess, this is y/n and y/n this is Princess Shuri. King T’challa’s younger sister. She was the one who fixed me eight years ago.”

“Hi Princess, it’s an honour.” You shook her hands.

“Welcome. Now let’s get you comfortable so we can take a look inside your brain, yeah?”

Now here you were, sitting in front of a burning yule log, the fire illuminated your face in the dead of the night. Ayo was standing across you, watching you with her spear ready but she trusted you, regardless. Bucky sat next to you, close enough to reassure you that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you or anyone.

“It’s gonna work, y/n. I promise.”

“What if it doesn’t? How will you bring me back?”

“Shuri would know what to do. I was sceptical of my own mind too at first, but I turned out fine. Better, even. You’re in good hands.”

“If she comes back, and you can’t stop her, promise me you’ll put her out, even if it kills me.”

“Y/N…” He looked wounded, how could he possibly do such a thing to the woman he loved?

“James! I can’t hurt anyone else anymore, and worse, if I hurt you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He nodded, though his heart was saying otherwise. “Okay, I promise.”

The tears in your eyes crawled down your cheeks and he held you close in the hut you’d been sharing with him. He kissed your hair like he would when he comforted you. The hut was simple and far away from the modern life you were used to in the compound or in New York, but you loved the tranquillity and simplicity of it. Some nights where Bucky and you would lie together, warming each other up, wearing nothing but customary clothes, you’d quietly think, you could get used to this. The simple life, with Bucky. Just you and him, and the rest of the world fade into the background. You wondered, could you still have it? That life? Or was it just wishful thinking? Right now, you could only hope that you’d be released from the demons of your past, that still lived in your head.

“I’ll be here, doll.” Bucky whispered and held your hand until the very last second.

“I won’t let you hurt anyone, Y/N. We successfully removed the winter soldier programs from James’ mind like rotten fur, you have nothing to worry.”

You nodded, “okay Ayo… I’m ready.”

You inhaled and stared at your own feet. The soil seemed like a great distraction at that moment. You wished you could hold Bucky’s hand but you didn’t want to look like a scared little baby. Then you heard it, Ayo’s assured voice spelling out the first codeword and the tension in your body rose. You trembled from the cold air, preparing yourself for the worst to happen as she uttered the next one. With each word, the fear in your veins amplified, thinking that any second now you were going to be a passenger in your own body and the demon that lived within you was going to take over.

But as Ayo uttered the last word, you were still there. You remembered your name, you remember where you were, you remembered the people around you and why you were there. You didn’t feel paralyzed, but rather alive. Freed from chains. You couldn’t believe it, you were never one to believe in miracles but that night, you did.

“You’re free, y/n.” Ayo smile like a proud mother.

“I’m free…” You repeated her words as if you were trying to convince yourself that it’s true.

She nodded, and you looked at Bucky who couldn’t hold himself back from wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your temple. “Oh, baby….” You could hear the genuine happiness in his voice and the shape of his lips forming a smile against you.

“You are both free,” Ayo declared.

You looked into his blue eyes that were gleaming with joy and love for only you. In that moment, you wished you had your phone with you so you could capture the priceless look on his face. You knew he was happy for you, however, you felt like you were celebrating his happiness instead. Maybe that’s what true love really is, celebrating each other’s happiness.

He grabbed your face and kissed you so deeply, taking your breath away. You could taste the saltiness of your tears cascaded down to your lips, but it was okay because you could feel Bucky’s soft lips against yours too and it was all you needed.

You held hands with Bucky, walking down to your shared hut, never wanting to untangle yourself from each other. Each night in Wakanda was an entire voyage itself. The scintillating stars in the sky and the quietness was paradise. You could see why Bucky adored Wakanda so much, everything about this country is perfect.

You laid on Bucky’s chest, playing with his dog tag. Even while sleeping, he never took it off. “I can’t believe I’m finally free…” you whispered.

Bucky looked down at you, “believe it doll, you deserve it.”

You sat up and leaned on your elbow, looking at him, “Thank you for getting me here and for being with me through it all. You’re amazing, Bucky.”

“No, doll, that is you. You’re one of the strongest people I know and I admire that.” Bucky sat up and he stared into your eyes as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

In that moment, there was a sudden urge to have him in a way you hadn’t had. You didn’t care about anything else, you just needed to feel every inch of him, and you needed him to feel every inch of you. You slammed your lips onto his, taking Bucky by surprise yet he leaned into it. Bucky grabbed your arse, pushing your body closer to him, despite the nonexistent gap between you. Bucky licked your bottom lip, and you took his cue as parting them, allowing his tongue to take over your mouth.

You stopped for a second to gasp for air, and you closed your eyes, letting Bucky take the wheel. Bucky moved his flesh hand to your hair, holding a fistful of it to your face in place. Then when he felt like he needed more, Bucky moved his hands to your thighs, lifting you onto his thighs, then he shifted his body around so that he was on top of you and you were lying on the pillow.

Bucky was still kissing you until he started moving his kisses down to your chin, then to your jaw then to your neck, the spot that he knew would elicit a sound of you. Bucky might’ve been over a hundred years old and he hadn’t been intimate with anyone since 1945 but he still remembered how he used to make a woman scream for his name and he wasn’t going to waste that talent.

Bucky lifted the hem of the tank top you were sleeping in and you raised your hands to make it easier for him to get rid of it. This was the first time Bucky had seen you naked, you were always sleeping in clothes next to him, whether it’s a tank top and super short shorts, you were always covered. But now, you were all bare and you were slightly nervous because you hadn’t let anyone see you like this since you were captured by HYDRA.

Chills ran down your spine from the crisp air, but it was also because of the way Bucky was ogling you. You could see how dilated his pupils are, overshadowing the blue. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathed.

Bucky continued his lecherous act, kissing down your chest then to your right nipple, swirling his tongue around like a lollipop while his other hand toyed with your left breast. You arched your back as you shut your eyes, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. You whimpered, needing more of him. “Bucky…”

He wanted to taste more of you so he trailed kisses down your stomach, waking up the butterflies inside until he was breathing to your core. Even in the darkness, he could see how your wetness glistens. He wrapped his arms in each of your thighs and spread them apart for him to dive in. He could tell you were feeling a little shy but he made sure to make you feel otherwise by kissing the insides of your thighs, telling you, “I bet you taste real sweet, darling…”

His words made you open your eyes and looked down at him, between your things. He smirked mischievously at your reaction. Then he dipped into your core, licking a stripe up to your clit, making you moan out his name. The way his stubble burnt your delicate flesh made you want to close your thighs however, Bucky held them firmly in place. He savoured every drop, devouring you like a famished man. Your thighs trembled around him and you bit your lip trying to surpass the moans. The slurping sounds that he made were sinful.

Then he shoved two of his fingers inside you, scissoring you open for him. You gasped, the intrusion shocked you, causing you to open your eyes and look down at his act. “Oh God, Buck, I’m fucking close…”

He dipped down again, savouring more juices flowing out of you. “Shh, I know doll, let go. I got you.” He continued his assault on your cunt until you felt the bubble in your belly exploded, making you see stars. You had forgotten the pleasure of chasing your orgasm until Bucky reminded you. Bucky swallowed every drop you released, not wanting to waste anything. He stayed there until you had nothing more to give.

Bucky rose from between your thighs, kissing you passionately and you could taste yourself on his tongue. It was so fucking debauched yet you fucking loved it. You wrap your arms around his neck and run your hands through his hair, messing it up and he looked so fucking sexy.

“I want you Bucky, please fill me up,” you pleaded in between makeout.

“You want this doll? You want me?” He knew what you desired, he just wanted to make sure one last time before you go all the way so you wouldn’t regret it in the morning.“

“Yes Bucky, I want all of you… Only you.”

“I got you, sweetheart.” Bucky grabbed your hands and put them above your head. He pulled back to take off his pants, freeing his cock out of his boxer. To say Bucky was packing light would be a massive lie. He was long and thick, not to mention he was painfully hard. You really didn’t expect it. You had thought about it and you guessed he was more on the lengthy side yet, he seemed to surprise you more and more every time.

Bucky saw the way you stared at it and he smirked at your reaction. “Like what you see, doll?” He stroked the shaft, getting it ready to plunge into you.

You bit your lip as your chest heaved at the licentious scene, “can I taste it?”

Bucky scoffed and shook his head while still stroking himself, “not tonight, doll. But I’ll hold your word.” He crawled back up to your body and you spread your legs apart to make room for him, you maintained eye contact as he held both of your hands that were still above your head. You could feel the nudge of the tip of his cock on your bud, making your toes curl, “are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes…” you practically whined. “Please, take me.”

Without a second thought, Bucky pushed himself inside you, slowly yet you could feel every inch of him stretching your walls open and you threw your head back, the friction caused your head to spin. You cried out his name as you tightened your grip on his hands, needing to hold onto something.

Bucky grunted when he was fully inside and he took a moment to hide his face in your neck, “ah, fucking hell, doll. You feel amazing.”

“Move Bucky, please…” you pleaded after you adjusted to him being inside you.

Bucky began to move slowly, started with shallow thrusts, pulling back a bit then pushed it back inside. When you didn’t show any signs of resistance, he began to pick up the pace and it made your moans grow louder. “Oh, fuck…” you cursed due to the sensation. “Faster, Buck…”

Your wish is Bucky’s command, he did as you asked and he was enjoying more and more of it. You lifted your legs higher on his waist, locking them there for dear life. You wailed as his cock impaled you, forgetting that there were probably kids sleeping around your hut but you were too clouded with pleasure to worry about that. The onslaught caused you to clench around him and your coil tightened. Knowing you won’t last much longer, Bucky detached his flesh hand from yours and moved it down to your clit, rubbing it in circles over and over again and you plummeted into bliss, electricity ran through your veins as you hit your peak, releasing yourself all over him.

Bucky kept thrusting, seeing the way your face contorted in satisfaction because of him and how your walls tightened around him threw him off the edge, causing him to reach his own orgasm. He spilt himself inside you, finishing with shallow thrusts until every drop was stored. “Ah, fuck…” He groaned.

Bucky laid on top of you while still staying inside you. You loved the intimacy of being this close to him, honestly, you wouldn’t mind staying in this position until dawn. Both of you tried to gain control over your breathing as you were completely spent. Once he regained composure, he pulled himself out of you and laid next to you.

“That was…”

“Fucking amazing? Yeah…” Bucky completed that sentence as he held you in his arms and kissed your forehead.

“You were amazing, doll.” He continued.

“I haven’t had sex since… Well, since as long as I can remember.”

“Me too, doll. You are my first since everything that happened.”

“You are mine, too.”

For a few seconds, you just stared at each other lovingly with satisfaction plastered all over your faces. You relished in each others’ warmth, despite the hut reeking of sweat and smell of sex, you found comfort in each other, putting both of you to sleep.

tags; @ohmickeyhenry @suitofvibraniumarmor @themaddies-obx @beminetokeep @bluemoon-icecream-blog @bluemoon-icecream @harprs @thefridgeismybestie @abitofeverythingg @wolfonthemoonwatchestvshows @julimelodi @bookscoffeandotherstuff @tanyaherondale @artisancowbells @ferxaniti @intothesoul @hallecarey1 @buckybarnesplumwhore @thefallenbibliophilequote @andiyholly @emizla @capxwinter @jevans2 @alwaysreadingimagineschick @swtltlmrvlgrl @extremelyblackandwhite

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan series #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan fluff

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bouncyirwin · 4 years ago

Note

So after reading Knock Knock, Let the Devil in again (I can’t praise you enough with how good that story is ♥️) and I’m so invested in the the dynamic between Shikamaru, Sakura, and Kakashi!

And because I have a question (and I hope I’m not bothering you by asking this 😭) how do you think Kakashi and Shikamaru would react if Sakura either came back from a mission seriously injured or if they found her seriously injured from a mission?

Hiii, thank you so much for this ask, I’m always so ready to gush about these three!

When I read this ask, inspiration quite literally slammed into me and I churned this out in a sprint session. Oops.

Word Count: 2,126 words

I present to you a one-shot in the knock knock-verse.

It was too early in the day to function, yet Shikamaru was in the Hokage’s office bustling about, feeling only half-human as he guzzled on his third coffee. “Fuckin’ paperwork,” he muttered disdainfully at the sight of an ungodly pile marked with his name.

That had to violate some natural law. How this became Shikamaru’s routine was beyond him.

Once upon a time, he professed that his deepest wish was to lead a mediocre life. And here he was.

Tsunade showed up ten minutes late, visibly drunk and doing very little to conceal it. “Morning,” she tossed over her shoulder and made a beeline for the coffee machine.

“Hokage-sama,” Shikamaru said, studying the dark circles under her eyes and her ashen pallor. “You look …”

He clamped his mouth shut. Was it worth getting assigned a D-rank to let her know she looked like shit? Probably not.

“Save it kid, I know,” she waved a casual hand and slumped in her chair. “Couldn’t care less with the night I pulled.”

“Drinking again, Hokage-sama?” he inquired with polite interest.

“Ha,” she said. “I wish.”

When he raised an eyebrow, she elaborated, slumping even further in her chair. “Sakura,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “They brought her back yesterday.”

Shikamaru’s heart sank. “Brought her back?”

“Yes, there was an ambush and she was badly injured—cracked every one of her ribs, that idiot. And the hospital was out of B-positive blood so Shizune had to sit the healing session out to donate blood. Nearly ran myself dry trying to keep her breathing…” Tsunade was scrubbing at her face but Shikamaru wasn’t listening anymore—he could barely hear her over the deafening roar of his heartbeat.

“Is she alive?” he demanded once he found his voice. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes, but she’s going to need plenty of rest—” the rest of her sentence remained a mystery for Shikamaru tore out of the room with a single-minded focus.

In the space between heartbeats, rationality was tossed out of the window. It left behind a desperate and half-crazed person—he needed to see her, to hear her heartbeat, to see the lively green of her eyes and he wasn’t going to rest until it happened.

He burst through the hospital doors undoubtedly looking like he’d escaped an asylum. The nurse he cornered shot him a bewildered look. “Sir, are you—” she began to say when he cut her off.

“Haruno Sakura,” he demanded breathlessly. “Her room. Where can I find her?”

“Sir,” she attempted again, sounding a little exasperated. “Haruno-san just underwent extensive surgery, she’s not allowed visitors, only family members can see her.”

Shikamaru pinned her with a no-nonsense look. “Akane-san,” he read off her name tag. “By order of the Hokage, I’m here to see Haruno Sakura.”

Akane shuffled nervously. “Do you have an official slip?”

He arched an eyebrow at her, as if to say ‘really?’.

“I-I might get in trouble,” her eyes shifted unsurely. “I need to put you down as a relative and you’re… what would I mark you down as, sir?”

It occurred to him a second later that he was being a total ass. But rationality had already fled. He was now a mess of frayed nerves.

The toddler bawling in the background wasn’t helping his case, and neither was the frantic husband demanding to see his wife at the reception, babbling about … oh.

Shikamaru turned back to the nurse, and before he realised what he was saying, he blurted. “Her husband. Mark me down as her husband.”

Akane blinked. “Oh.”

Shikamaru stared her down, daring her to argue with him. But she simply nodded and scribbled something on her chart. “Right. Of course. Follow me.”

As they stalked through clinical hallways, Shikamaru’s heart rose in a crescendo, worry and nervousness swirling in his chest in a toxic mix. What would he see upon reaching her room? Was she in pain? Was she even lucid? Gods, what if she was in a coma? What if she’d hurt herself so irreparably that it cost her career?

His mind raced with sickly thoughts until his stomach roiled and his face tinged green.

Akane stopped at room 217 and there she was.

“Oh gods,” Shikamaru whispered.

She was hooked to so many wires. Oxygen tubes and an IV and a heart monitor and tubes he didn’t even recognise. She looked frail and broken, too small amidst white sheets and beeping monitors.

He heard Akane quietly slip out of the room and was glad for it because his knees nearly buckled.

Sakura wasn’t awake. Hell, she didn’t even look alive, her face so pale where it wasn’t bruised blue and purple.

Numbly, his feet carried him to her side, his breath a short and rapid thing that barely saturated his lungs.

There was blood caked beneath her fingernails and in the cracks of her lips. His eyes stung faintly as they slid over to the heart monitor.

It was too slow.

“Oh god,” he said again, every cell in his body congested with fear.

He was afraid to even reach out and touch her, lest she broke apart under his fingertips. Delicately, ever so delicately and with trembling fingers, he ghosted a light stroke across the apple of her cheek.

“Sakura…” he said feebly, wishing her eyes would just open.

Except they didn’t. And her heart monitor droned on sluggishly in the background, crawling heartbeats that served more in adding to his anxiety than diminishing it.

It was beating. But it wasn't beating enough. What if it stopped beating?

Shikamaru wasn’t prepared. She wasn’t allowed to die. Not yet. Not ever. He didn’t care what laws governed this cursed world, this was Sakura, she was spring incarnated, and she wasn’t allowed to die.

His fingers curled around her hand, and he wished for the first time in his life that he could heal. That he could bleed strength into her the way she did to him.

It was getting difficult to breathe. What if she died?

What then?

Fuck, he hadn’t even told her he loved her.

His vision swam, rendering the room a splash of colours and pink. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t breathe.

In the muddled daze of anxieties and fears, Shikamaru wished he had the foresight to grab Kakashi.

He’d never needed an anchor more than he did in that second.

Kakashi was having an incredibly shitty day.

His coffee machine broke down, he spilled tea over his mission report and he mixed a black shirt with his coloured laundry and now half of his clothes were beyond repair.

“Dammit,” he sighed, tossing his book aside. He couldn’t even read, busy as he was dwelling on his ruined laundry.

He took one dispassionate look at his soggy report and groaned. “What a mess,” he’d actually attempted to do this one on time. Served him right for breaking his routine.

Kakashi grabbed his weapons holster and stepped out for some much needed air. Maybe he should just turn in a tea-flavoured report—perhaps if he offered Tsuande a bottle of sake she’d make an exception and accept it.

He made a beeline to her office, remembering he was due for a debrief. But what he found upon his arrival wasn’t what he expected.

Tsunade was shouting to Shizune, clearly exasperated: “—and he just upped and left! I’m his Hokage, and he upped and left!”

“Maah…” Kakashi began unsurely.

Tsunade’s gaze cut to him. “Hatake, there you are,” she huffed. “I’m too fucking hungover for this. We’re one man down, I need someone to look over these reports.”

Kakashi frowned, finally noticing how empty her office looked. “Where’s Shikamaru…?”

“The idiot left,” Tsunade growled, raising goosebumps on his arms. “I told him I spent all night healing her, what did he think, that I’d leave her to die? Fucking hell.”

“Leave who to die?” Kakashi said, confused. “What happened?”

“Sakura happened,” Tsunade ranted tiredly. “They brought her back almost half dead, I’ve been patching her up for the better part of eight hours and this is how I’m rewarded.”

But Kakashi had stopped listening after ‘half dead’. Half dead? “Half … dead?” he echoed, his mouth dry.

No. This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t happening.

“Yes,” Tsunade sighed. “But I operated on her and she’s going to be fine.”

Kakashi barely heard the words. His brain was a string of very adamant denial. No, no, no, no.

He didn’t want it to be true—all those years he had been certain, was so sure that it was him, that he was the reason the people he loved always died. That he was a curse to those he cared about.

Every person he loved came back in a body bag.

Fuck.

Kakashi turned tail, a sudden manic urge to see her rising unbearably in his chest. What if Tsunade was lying, what if Sakura wasn’t fine? What if she was fine, but she died anyway?

Fear pumped through his veins, rendering him dizzy. This was his worst nightmare come to life—how could he have forgotten that people, even those that could mend bones and heal what was broken, were so damn breakable?

His legs couldn’t carry him quickly enough.

He didn’t waste time interrogating the nurses for her whereabouts, he knew her scent like she was a part of him. It led him to her now, her unique sweetness tainted with blood and antiseptic.

Gods, he was going to be sick.

He nearly ripped the door off its hinges in his haste to get to her.

Shikamaru was already there, looking wrecked, looking worse than Kakashi had ever seen him. “Is she—”

He couldn’t even say it.

“They … they said they don’t know when she’ll wake up,” Shikamaru whispered hollowly.

Kakashi felt the ground crumbling beneath his feet. “No,” he whispered, leaning back against the wall when he teetered off balance.

His hip jarred against the doorknob but Kakashi barely registered the sting. Barely anything registered beyond the fear-terror-fear coursing through his veins like poison. “Please, no,” he said.

This couldn’t be happening again.

His father and Obito and Rin and Minato-sensei—hadn’t they been enough? Was Sakura going to be another name on the too long list of losses that haunted him?

He really was going to be sick. He clenched his jaw against the reflex, forcing his brain out of the dizzying tornado of anxieties. His gaze focused on Shikamaru, the only other person that mattered as much.

He didn’t look good at all, pale and shaking and appearing ready to fall apart.

The sight of him was strangely grounding.

Kakashi found his elusive strength, located his knees under him and was at his side in the next second.

“Shikamaru,” he rasped, clutching the other man’s arm.

“She looks dead,” Shikamaru whispered. “I … I …”

Words eluded him.

Kakashi tugged at his arm, drawing Shikamaru against him. He went without a fight, slumping against Kakashi’s chest like a puppet whose strings were cut.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kakashi lied, surprised by how much conviction he could bleed into it when it was for someone else’s benefit. “She’s going to be fine.”

Shikamaru shook in his hold, his shoulders minutely trembling. But just as suddenly, his body calmed down and he gripped tightly onto Kakashi’s middle. “What if she isn’t?”

“She will be,” Kakashi stressed because … anything else was not an option. “It’s Sakura. She punched a goddess in the face.”

Shikamaru let out a short, pained laugh against him. “Gods, don’t remind me; what a reckless idiot.”

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Kakashi confessed in a soft murmur against Shikamaru’s hair. He tightened his hold on him, drawing strength from the warmth of his body. “As beautiful as the two of you together.”

Lean fingers dug in his back. “I’m glad you’re here,” Shikamaru said sincerely. “I’m glad you came. Fuck, I think I’m gonna cry.”

“You can cry,” Kakashi soothed, sinking his fingers in lush, dark hair. “Hell, I might cry.”

Shikamaru let out a wet chuckle. “Yeah.”

Kakashi’s face bowed, nuzzling the side of his head as he took a shuddering breath. He clutched Shikamaru closely, his breath shallow and his heart a warbling mess in his chest.

He couldn’t think about if she died. He would die, then, if not from sorrow then from a broken psyche. It was easier to focus on the beeping machines and Shikamaru’s sure, thudding heart. Kakashi tuned in on every shuddering breath, his palm mapping his expanding ribs.

His focus narrowed down to his senses, to Shikamaru, to Sakura’s fighting, beating heart and prayed like he never had before.

She was going to be alright.

She had to be.

#bouncyirwin writes #kakasakushika #kakasaku #shikasaku #kakashika #naruto #angst #hurt/comfort #knock knock let the devil in #sakura haruno #kakashi hatake #Shikamaru nara

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eliemo · 4 years ago

Text

What Matters

Summary: It’s not that Virgil thought the dream would ever become a reality. It’s just that sometimes, it’s nice to see the flaws in his logic laid out plainly in front of him.

Notes: past abuse mention, past violence mention, nightmares, sympathetic dark sides and light sides

Taglist: @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222 @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @basilthefourth @snowtrashowl @thefingergunsgirl @trashtm @stubbornness-and-spite @kieraelieson @alias290 @darkch1ld @craz-ewaters @damy-02 @frogdog145 @gattonero17 @madamedraconis @stoicpanther @@love-to-read02 @that-spider-fan-over-there @thatoneloudowl @rich-flower-17 @demigodbookdragon @i-gobymanynames

Masterpost

Virgil stumbled into the hallway, shivering under the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, breaths coming in panicked, shuddering gasps as tears blurred his vision.

“It was an experiment, Virgil.”

“It seems the others were onto something, after all.”

Logan’s voice kept ringing in his ears (it wasn’t Logan’s voice, he knew that. He knew Logan would never say those things), cold and calculating, but smiling through the nightmare, relieved for things to finally return to how they were supposed to be.

It was a dream. Just a stupid, stupid dream that his idiotic brain had decided to torture him with tonight.

He’d never...had a dream like this before.

Virgil paused at the top of the stairs, hesitating with his arms wrapped around himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to decide what to do.

He knew it was ok to get someone after a nightmare. The others had practically insisted after they had learned how frequently he had them.

They all helped in their own way. Patton would chase away memories of the past, holding him close with promises that he was safe, that he would never be trapped again.

Roman offered distractions from his fears, colorful stories and grand reassurances, the prince swearing to fight off anything that might threaten his safety.

And Logan...Logan brought him back to reality. Logan calmed him down, grounded him, reminded him where and who he was. He pushed aside irrational fears and worries with his usual logic, his reasoning slowly putting Virgil’s racing mind at ease.

Logan was who he should go to now, after his dreams had warped reality, made him question his own safety in the waking world.

But...

A flash of pain, a hand grabbing the collar of his shirt and slamming him to the wall, hard enough to leave him wheezing.

It hadn’t been Logan. Logan would never. He’d promised, and proved his good intentions time and time again. Virgil wouldn’t be where he was without the logical side’s help through his recovery.

He trusted Logan. He loved him- he loved all of them more than he knew how to say. He owed them everything. So there was no reason his stupid brain should come up with something so horrific.

The things he’d been told hadn’t even made sense. It was just exhausted, paranoid thoughts that had unfortunately come to life in an incredibly vivid nightmare.

It was something he’d used to worry about, back when the others had first accepted him, Virgil’s terror and confusion convincing him that their kindness was fake, that they would turn around and hurt him too as soon as they were fed up.

He knew better now. They showed him every day, over and over and over again, that he was safe. That they loved him as much as he loved them. That he wasn’t the only protector in the mindscape.

That he didn’t deserve the pain. He never had.

His mind played tricks on him all the time. Hell, sometimes it liked to torment him just as much as the Others used to. He should be used to dreams like this by now. It shouldn’t be leaving him so shaken.

But the feeling had been so familiar, the dream so eerily vivid, digging up old, long buried fears. It had been confirmation that the Others had been right, that he’d deserved it all, that no one had ever actually wanted him to feel protected.

It was so stupidly unrealistic. And so, so terrifying.

He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, held his breath to make as little noise as possible, and descended the stairs by himself.

Besides, if he told someone about this particular nightmare, he’d only end up upsetting them. They didn’t deserve that.

So that was how Virgil ended up pressed into the corner of the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and willing himself to stop his violent trembling. It was just a dream. Just a stupid, unfairly realistic dream.

He didn’t turn on the television, despite knowing the sound would help distract him. His hands refused to move, still clutching tightly at the blanket around his shoulders.

He stayed where he was, distantly aware the other sides would be up in just a few hours, staring blankly at the wall, letting the awful dream replay over and over again in his head.

The first rays of pale sunlight had begun filtering in through the mindscape’s windows by the time Virgil heard movement upstairs, the familiar creaking of someone moving through the halls.

He didn’t move, despite how his back protested the way he’d been hunched over for quite a while now, watching warily as Janus made his way downstairs.

Virgil wasn’t sure if he should be terrified or relieved, but he couldn’t help but smirk at the way Deceit did a double take when he saw the anxious side huddled up on the couch.

He knew Janus had only recently learned what had happened to Virgil, the beatings always happening when his back was turned, and since Virgil hadn’t actually been the one to say anything, he had no idea how much Deceit knew.

It still made him uneasy sometimes, the worried, guilt ridden looks he occasionally caught the snake watching him with, the glances he and Remus would share, the less than subtle attempts to give him his space.

Virgil seemed to be the only person Remus was actually careful around, the Duke sure to lower his volume and tone down his movements when the anxious side was in the room (which wasn’t saying much considering the energy Remus had, but Virgil appreciated it regardless), and ever since the panic attack in the kitchen, Virgil hadn’t seen his Morning Star anywhere in sight.

It was a work in progress, Virgil still wary and unsure around him, but the two of them were gradually learning to coexist and understand each other.

Janus was...a different story.

A blind man could see the guilt Deceit was carrying onto, the denial, shock, and anger that never seemed to give him a moment's rest.

Or maybe Virgil was just able to pick up on it because he’d gone through the exact same thing. He still was.

Deceit, self proclaimed lord of the lies, hadn’t picked up on the violence and abuse the others had put Virgil through, never once allowing himself to pick up on the little white lies thrown around to keep Virgil helpless.

And as much as he wanted to sometimes, Virgil couldn’t blame Janus. It wasn’t his fault- the others had known what they were doing, and they’d known Janus would put a stop to it the second he found out. Kicking Virgil around was a pastime they were far too invested in to lose.

But there were days when pain and sickening fear from memories that wouldn’t leave him alone, when flashbacks and nightmares and panic attacks became too much to handle, that Virgil wished, more than anything, that Janus had intervened. That he’d let himself look closer. That it all could have stopped sooner.

And he knew Janus wished the same thing. It was probably why he was awake at five in the morning looking like death warmed over.

Janus was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, and Virgil offered a shaky peace sign in greeting.

“Hey,” he said, grimacing when he realized that it absolutely looked and sounded like he’d been crying for the past hour and a half. Great. “You’re up early.”

Janus seemed to visibly regain his composure, quickly straightening his back and offering a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

“I’ve been up a while.”

He saw Janus frown at that, fiddling with his sleeves, uncertain. “Are you...alright? Do you want coffee?”

And yeah, that was as much of a heart to heart as either of them were going to have this early in the morning. Virgil wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk about how one of the most ridiculous nightmares he’d ever experienced had left him trembling and crying like a child afraid of the dark.

“Fuck, yes please. Go get me caffeine.”

It was enough to get a genuine smile this time, some of the tension seeping out of Deceit’s shoulders as he made his way to the kitchen.

He was fine. He was home, he was safe, and things were good. The nightmare would fade, as dreams do, and in a little bit they would all eat breakfast together like a family. Like they always did.

There was absolutely no reason he should still feel so scared. He should be looking forward to everyone waking up, not feeling like he was being led down to the gallows with every tick of the clock.

Janus was back in just a few moments, two plastic mugs in his hands, and Virgil tried to ignore the way his stomach dropped at the sudden thought of what would happen if he spilled on the couch after he was handed his drink.

Nothing. Nothing would happen and no one would be mad. God, he needed to get a hold of himself.

Nothing was going to change. And yet…

“Janus?” he asked quickly, the other side stopping in his tracks. “Where...where are you going to be today?”

He could feel Janus staring, but Virgil now kept his gaze firmly on the steaming coffee in his lap.

“My room, most likely,” he said. “I have some things to attend to today.”

“Could you-” God, this was stupid, this was so needlessly stupid. “Could you like...leave your door unlocked? Just- um...just in case?”

“Just in case...what, Virgil?”

“Y-you know.” And really, what was he supposed to answer with? Just in case he’d suddenly been granted the gift of prophetic dreams and he needed a place to hide when Logan started beating him? “Just...in case.”

He risked a glance up, relieved when there was no ridicule or annoyance in Janus’s eyes, just gentle confusion like he was trying to silently pick apart Virgil’s thoughts.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “My door isn't open if you need anything.”

It was...new, Virgil realized, having these careful, honest conversations with Janus. He wasn’t about to drop all his defenses and retell the details of his nightmare, and Deceit knew that, but they were still miles better than they’d been just a week ago.

“Thanks, Janus.”

Janus made his way back upstairs, hopefully to get some more sleep, and Virgil settled back against the couch, significantly less shaky than before. It was just a stupid dream. He’d be ok.

Virgil was aware he was being a complete asshole.

He’d made the mistake of assuming the paranoid jumpiness from his dream would fade as soon as the mindscape came to life and everything continued on as normal. He hadn’t expected it to get worse.

He was pretty sure Roman and Patton could tell something was up, but Virgil managed to plaster on a nervous smile and force himself to breathe easy as he was seated at the kitchen table, listening to Roman ramble as Patton started cooking breakfast.

And then Logan was walking in, muttering a quiet greeting, and the panic had hit full force.

Which was completely ridiculous, especially as Logan just offered him a warm, tired smile and made his way over to the pot of coffee.

It was the same Logan he saw every morning- welcoming and safe, and a very large part of the progress Virgil had made over the months.

Logan would never hurt him, nobody would...no one was going to…

“Come here, Virgil.”

There were hands grabbing at him, nails digging into his skin, overpowering and so painfully familiar.

“Virgil!”

“Virgil?” Logan was looking at him now, brow pinched, and suddenly they were all staring at him and Virgil couldn’t breathe- when had it become so hard to breathe?

He stood up from the table, the chair scraping against the floor and nearly tipping over in his rush, stuffing his hands deep into his hoodie pockets to hide the way they were shaking.

“I- uhm, I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t have any other excuses. No good ones at least. But the panic was wrapping around him like a vice, cold, cruel hands squeezing his neck, and Logan was taking a cautious step towards him--

Virgil sank out without another word, his mind momentarily set back to the old, terrifying mindset, screaming at him to get out, to run and hide before someone grabbed him…

God, what was wrong with him?

He ended up locking himself in his bathroom, turning on the sink so the rushing water would drown out his rapid, panicked breathing, turning harshly away from his reflection in the mirror.

He was fine, he was fine, he was...trying really hard not to plan out escape routes and hiding spots in his head.

It was an old habit that had practically been second nature to him before living with the light sides, and even a few weeks after. It had helped him feel at ease, pinpointing places he could keep himself hidden and out of the way, even if it often proved to be pointless.

It was how he’d ended up in the closet, covered in blood with shards of glass coating his skin, so deep in his panic he’d been convinced his family was hurting him.

He couldn’t risk falling back into old habits. Not now, when he’d been making so much progress. Not over something as meaningless as a dream.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave the bathroom. Not when so many eyes would be on him the second he stepped back into the kitchen.

So he took extra time to do his makeup, layering on black eyeshadow to cover up how utterly exhausted he looked from his restless night, and took another few moments to stare blankly at the wall when he still wasn’t quite ready to come out.

When Patton came to check on him, Virgil blamed it on a bit of queasiness and promised to eat something later.

The guilt became suffocating when he realized the panic didn’t return with Patton’s voice, but it definitely was back with a vengeance when he heard Logan walk down the hallway a few moments later.

Logan didn’t deserve this. Everything the logical side had done for him, the endless patience, assistance, and careful compassion, and Virgil was right back to being a pathetic mess.

So maybe that was why he didn’t bother to be subtle about trying to avoid Logan for the rest of the day. Besides, even if he did try to hide his uneasiness, the logical side was always able to pick up on the little things. It would just be a wasted effort.

Virgil stayed cooped up in his room as much as he could, blasting music in his headphones to drown out any sounds.

When he did leave (at Patton’s gentle insistence that he eat something for lunch) he was sure to never end up in the same room as Logan, quickly retreating or sinking out whenever the logical side walked in. He resolutely ignored the twisting guilt in his gut at Logan’s small frowns when Virigl would blurt out some half hearted, see-through excuse each time.

He just needed a day or two. Just a little bit of time for the residual panic to fade and for things to go back to normal. It wasn’t logical, maybe, but...Logan would understand if he knew.

Except he wouldn’t, and that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

Virgil was well aware how difficult he was to deal with, especially earlier on. Logan had sacrificed so much time and effort to teach him, and the others, how to gradually undo the mindset Virgil had been conditioned to have.

All that work, all that trust, and Virgil was letting one night of nightmares influence him more than any of it. Logan...Logan would probably be furious with him.

But not enough to hurt him. Never enough to hurt him.

Virgil wasn’t...afraid of Logan. Despite proving the exact opposite every time he so much as caught a glimpse of the logical side today, Virgil was still coherent enough to know Logan wasn’t going to turn his back on a year’s worth of progress to strike him.

It was just...instinct taking over. Besides, in the nightmare, Logan’s reasoning for needing to hurt Virgil hadn’t been completely unreasonable.

Hell, before Logan had explained otherwise, Virgil had thought it was totally understandable that he needed to be hurt. He hated it, but it helped Thomas. That was a fact.

And like Logan always said, numbers didn’t lie. If Virgil being in pain was beneficial, then Virgil would stay in pain.

But Logan had been the first one to tell him that was false. He’d been the one to lay out the real facts and evidence to show how Virgil hurting would only worsen Thomas’s health, and his own.

They’d all helped Virgil realize, for the first time, that he never should have been hurt. He’d never deserved it. Any of it.

That was why he just needed to wait it out. He couldn’t talk this one out with the others, couldn’t face Logan just yet. It would just end up hurting him (that was what Virgil did best, after all) and Logan didn’t deserve that.

Unfortunately, Virgil was starting to really wish he’d had the courage to ask for reassurance when the sky grew dark and the mindscape quieted, and he quickly realized he was far too on edge to go to bed.

He was right back on the couch where he’d started the day, somehow even more jumpy and paranoid than he’d been that morning. He stared blankly at his phone, wondering if the dream would return if he fell asleep.

Great. He’d probably be pulling an all-nighter. Maybe multiple if he couldn’t get a grip. Patton was going to kill him when he found out.

“Virgil?”

Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketed at the voice from the staircase, breath catching in his throat as he dug his nails into the couch cushions. He didn’t look up, even as he felt Logan’s eyes on him, completely frozen under the weight of his gaze.

“Virgil,” Logan said again, steady and emotionless, impossible to read. “May I speak with you?”

Virgil’s heart was beating in his now tightening chest, and he furiously told himself to calm down. But his body wasn’t cooperating with his mind, panic overpowering reason, and Virgil desperately searched for an excuse before Logan could realize how terrified he was.

“I- um...I was just heading to bed, so--”

“I only require a moment of your time,” Logan said. “As you usually sleep at a much later hour than this, I’m sure that won't be an issue.”

Virgil took a shaky breath, wincing when he realized how obviously unsettled he must look. Logan didn’t sound angry, but...well, it was always so hard to tell.

But there wasn’t a way out. He just hoped he could play it off long enough for Logan to give up. “Ok. Yeah, what’s...what’s up.”

He tried not to think about how eerily similar this was to the nightmare. How Logan had calmly asked to speak with him. How he’d pulled out his notebook and presented neatly recorded data of Virgil’s health paralleled with Thomas’s.

“It seems Thomas’s productivity has only decreased since we began treating you as an equal, Virgil.”

“It seems the Others were right, your pain does make life easier.”

“We will, of course, have to return to that method. You understand, I’m sure.”

Virgil resisted the urge to flinch as Logan sat down at the other end of the couch, careful to keep his distance.

He wrapped his arms around himself, shuddering under the phantom feeling of hands grabbing him, so tight it bruised his skin, both from nightmares and memories he could never let go of.

“You’ve been avoiding me today.”

Virgil did flinch this time, curling into a tighter ball. “N-no I haven’t.”

Yeah, that was convincing. He could practically picture the exasperated eye roll Janus would give him if he were here. He kind of wished someone else would show up- anything to cause a distraction.

Logan wasn’t here to hurt him. Logan would never hurt him. No one would hurt him.

“I can...see my presence is causing you some distress,” Logan said, and Virgil felt like crying. “I do not wish to force you to speak with me, but I’ve clearly done something to trigger a reaction.”

He paused, obviously waiting for some kind of response or confirmation. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, and Logan sighed before continuing.

“It was never my intention to do anything to upset you. As is always the case, I only wish to identify the trigger so it does not happen again, and offer my sincere apologies. But I cannot do that if you won’t talk to me, Virgil.”

God, why couldn’t Logan just be angry? He wouldn’t go back for anything in the world, but sometimes…

Sometimes it felt like being screamed at, punched and kicked and thrown around until he couldn’t move had been easier. At least then, he knew what to expect.

Nobody had cared about him back then. And now...now Logan, Patton, Roman, Janus, and even Remus just wanted him to be ok. It scared him sometimes, how much he loved them.

“It...it’s not that,” Virgil said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s...fuck, you didn’t do anything Logan. You...you’re fine.”

Logan was silent a moment before responding. “I find that hard to believe. You are currently under visible distress, which didn’t begin until after I made my presence known. This has happened every time I have walked into the room today. You skipped breakfast after I--”

“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” Virgil winced at his own outburst, now looking anywhere but at Logan. God, why was he always such an asshole? “I’m...sorry. I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to...it’s just me, ok? I’m being stupid like always and--”

“You are not stupid,” Logan cut in, that stern but gentle tone he always used to talk Virgil out of a self deprecating spiral. “You tend to overthink and jump to often unrealistic conclusions, but as I have told you many times that does not change how intelligent and thoughtful you are.”

Virgil shrugged, the praise just making him feel more guilty about what he was putting the logical side through. “I’m still being stupid, though.”

“Falsehood. Something has frightened you, and clearly I am at the source. I only wish to assist.”

Well. Now he was going to have to tell Logan. Even if he was upset afterwards, annoyance was far better than Logan walking around, weighed down by guilt and blaming himself for something he didn’t do.

But apparently Virgil hesitated just a second too long, and Logan was suddenly speaking again.

“Perhaps we can try a different approach,” he offered. “Could you...explain why you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Virgil took a shaky breath. “You’re...gonna be mad.”

“At you?” Logan asked, and Virgil nodded. “I sincerely doubt that. Why do you believe I’m going to be angry?”

Virgil hunched over himself, and suddenly everything came spilling out. “Because...because you’ve done so much. I owe you all everything and I still...I’m still letting myself panic over a stupid fucking dream. After everything! And you...you don't deserve that. I-I’m sorry for avoiding you I didn’t mean to- to make you think--”

There was a hand on his shoulder, barely brushing the cloth of his hoodie, but Virgil still flinched back before he could stop himself, and Logan quickly pulled away.

“Sorry,” Virgil muttered. “I- I’m not--”

“No apologies necessary,” Logan said, sounding much more calm than Virgil would have expected. “There’s no shame in being affected by a particularly bad dream.”

Virgil scoffed, glancing up just enough to see Logan’s worried frown. “Sure.”

“I mean it, Virgil. Especially considering your past. I understand if a vivid nightmare was enough for you to revert back to an old mindset. Staying vigilant and avoiding threats is what kept you safe back then, isn’t it?”

Safe was a strong word- he had never really been safe before, but...avoidance had been a survival technique. If he thought someone was angry, the only thing he could do was stay out of their way and hide.

“But it’s you,” he argued. “I...it was so stupid you- you were saying that they were right. When...when they said that hurting me helped Thomas, and then...and then you showed me all this- this fucking data or whatever that me being safe hurt everyone and I...y-you all said I had to go back to how it was and I…”

He trailed off, face burning when a few traitorous tears slipped down his cheeks, and he furiously wiped them away with his sleeves, breathing deeply.

“Virgil--”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I’m...I know it’s dumb, ok? It’s just a stupid dream and you would never...I mean, if any of that was true you would have said something months ago, right?”

For the first time, he looked up to meet Logan’s gaze, suddenly finding himself speechless at the sheer amount of emotion behind his glasses. Warm but worried, calculating and understanding.

And then, slowly, he was standing from the couch. “Please wait here just a moment, Virgil. I believe there is something you should see.”

And then just like that he was gone, hurrying up the stairs without another word. For just a second, Virgil considered retreating, and apologizing for this entire conversation tomorrow when he was more put together.

But he didn’t need to make this any more unfair for Logan than it already was. Besides, the logical side was back in less than a minute, something held tight in his hand as he returned to his spot on the couch.

“What’s that?” Virgil asked, hoping his voice didn’t betray just how sickeningly nervous he felt.

Logan held it out to him, slow enough that Virgil didn’t flinch at the movement. He took it in his hands, realizing it was a plain black spiral notebook, and his heart clawed its way up to his throat.

“What’s--?”

“Flip through it, please,” Logan said calmly. “I believe you’ll find it interesting. And it may do something to set your mind at ease.”

So far it was doing the exact opposite, but Virgil obeyed and slowly began turning the pages.

It was clearly well-used, the some of the pages bent or wrinkled, but other than that it was still pristine and organized like everything that belonged to Logan.

Some pages had hand drawn graphs or what looked like data tables, others had written entries in Logan’s writing. Virgil skimmed through them, catching glimpses of his name, and occasionally the other’s, all of the descriptions of events and conversations vaguely familiar.

He had...absolutely no idea what the hell this was.

And Logan apparently picked up on that, the logical side suddenly clearing his throat and scooting closer, still far enough away for the couch to not feel crowded.

“It’s, uhm...well, you see when we had first learned of your past I wanted to ensure that we found the best methods to help you feel...safe. And at home. I suppose I should have told you, I completely understand if you’re--”

“Wait a second,” Virgil said, the pieces falling together. “This is...you kept notes on me? On...my recovery?”

It was Logan’s turn to avoid his gaze now, and Virgil’s heart sank when he realized Logan looked nervous.

“I apologize if it is invasive,” he said quickly. “It wasn’t my intention. It’s a bit of a habit, I suppose. I tend to take extensive notes on things I find...important. And finding the best way to help you was incredibly important to me, Virgil.”

Virgil felt like crying again, but for an entirely different reason this time. “Lo, that’s...god, that’s so fucking sweet.”

Logan’s head snapped up, eyes widening when he saw Virgil’s widening smile. “I- you believe so?”

“Dude, are you kidding? I’ve never...sometimes I just...can’t believe how much you guys care.”

Logan matched his smile, and carefully, slowly enough that Virgil could pull away, scooted closer to see the open notebook.

“I’ve been sure to document all of your progress at least once a week, no matter how small. And there has been a lot of it, even if you don’t always think so.”

“Logan--”

“But the reason I wanted you to see this today,” he continued, reaching over to turn a few pages. “Is because I occasionally compare your progress to Thomas’s productivity and overall wellbeing.”

Virgil had absolutely no idea what the graphs and symbols Logan was pointing at meant, but the other side was right there to explain it to him.

“Your progress, as well as how safe you began to feel around us, directly parallels Thomas's increased mental health. You being safe and healthy makes him better, Virgil. You being happy makes us better.”

And...yeah, there was absolutely no way for Virgil to stop himself from crying this time. He didn’t really have any intention to stop, anyway. It was a nice change of pace to cry from happiness for once.

Logan, unfortunately didn’t seem to know the difference. “I am...so sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

Virgil cut him off by pulling him into a hug, holding on tight and squeezing his eyes shut. Logan relaxed against him, and slowly moved to wrap his arms around Virgil’s back.

“I was going to offer you space and time to recuperate,” Logan said, and Virgil tightened his grip. “I’m pleased to see you are considerably less afraid of me now.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Virgil said quickly, not yet ready to pull away. “I’m not...and I wasn’t, I promise I just...my stupid brain is always--”

“Your brain is not stupid,” Logan chided, and Virgil dropped his arms when he pulled back. “It’s had to learn to keep you alive under very unfortunate circumstances. It’s a survivor.”

Virgil snorted, despite the way his chest felt light at the words. “I mean...I guess so.”

Logan leaned back against the couch, the notebook still open in between them, and he drummed his fingers against his thigh before speaking again.

“Something I need you to understand,” he said. “Is that in the grand scheme of things, the contents of this notebook don’t matter.”

“But it’s--”

“We were correct in assuming that helping you would, in turn, help Thomas. But even if we were wrong, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter if there were benefits, and it wouldn’t matter if keeping you safe negatively affected Thomas. You would never, ever be struck. You would never be beaten or grabbed or screamed at or threatened. No matter the situation. It would never be an option to us.”

There it was again, like he’d heard so many times before but so, so much more intense tonight. The compassion, the dedication, the emotions Logan denied while feeling so strongly.

Virgil blinked away a new wave of tears. “I...I don’t ever want to hurt Thomas.”

“Then it is a good thing this is only hypothetical,” Logan said. “You very clearly do no such thing. I only wanted you to understand that no matter the circumstances, your place with us will never change. You will never have any reason to fear for your safety again.”

Virgil didn’t know how Logan did it, how the side who claimed to be the most alienated when it came to emotional responses, always seemed to be able to make everything right.

The jumpiness and awful paranoia had already almost completely faded, leaving behind a soft blanket of soft fatigue.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and Logan smiled.

“Of course. I’ll remind you any time you need. Would you like to be alone, or would you like to stay with me tonight?”

Virgil smiled, wiping his eyes again. “Can I stay? Please?”

Logan reached out a hand, his own smile gentle and warm, and Virgil knew they’d both be passed out to some old space documentary like they usually did when Virgil had a bad dream.

“Of course, Virgil.”

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