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hxseok-honee · 5 years ago

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peripeteia | part 20

a/n : AHHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS PLS LMK WHAT YOU THINK also this is the longest thing ive ever written ever im so tired it took all week so i hope its good!

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Y/n is sitting down by the Black Lake when she feels herself becoming faint. A cold sweat breaks on her skin just as her brain starts to feel foggy, and she knows it’s time. It was normal for students to skip class and find a comfortable place to wait on their Clock Day -- Hoseok had told her that it feels a lot like a dream, one that leaves you unable to move or do much of anything until the process is complete, and it was only after a few unlucky souls had fainted in class or on the stairs that professors started allowing students to take the day off in order to ensure everyone’s safety. Of course, lots of students still had the unfortunate experience of being caught off guard in corridors or on the stairs while trying to find a safe place to sit until it passed, so Y/n had traveled in an especially hurried manner while she was coming down to the lake. Luckily she’d picked a great time to settle down because not even ten minutes had passed since she’d arrived. She had been trying not to think of Namjoon on a day like this, but she can’t help that her only thought when she starts to feel sick is that she wished he were there with her.

The cold sweat turns to extreme warmth suddenly and almost violently, and she has to steady herself by putting a hand in the grass and breathing deeply until the world stops spinning. She can tell the edges of her vision are leaving her, the impending blackout looming dangerously close. Overcome by the heat sticking to her like a thousand burning hot knives, she starts to crawl over to the edge of the lake, desperate for something to cool her skin. She makes it there, but not quite with enough time to do anything else. The last thing she sees is her own reflection in the water beneath her. The sight of her eyes clouding over completely -- reminding her not coincidentally of the murky color her divination professor’s eyes turn when overtaken by a vision -- is all that’s left before her eyesight is completely lost and she’s forced to surrender to fate’s will.

The darkness in Y/n’s mind stirs, and she’s filled with the sensation of free-falling. As she drops through space with no end in sight, a small gray dot appears from below. It grows as she approaches it, transforming into a cloud of smoke very rapidly and enveloping her completely as she passes through it. She can feel that this cloud is meant to steady her, slowing her movement until she’s no longer falling, instead floating -- where she’s headed, she has no idea, but as long as she’s no longer falling to her death, she’s happy.

The smoke around Y/n begins to clear, and she notes that her feet are placed gently on hard ground, not far from where she’d been floating for those few moments. The rest of the smoke fades away, the last wisps of it sticking to her surroundings in order to solidify the world she’s landed in. She realizes immediately that she’s standing in the Hospital Wing, only noticing that everything around her is gray and colorless, much like a memory, as an afterthought.

Glancing around, she finds that all of the beds are unoccupied except for the last one on the left side. The curtains are drawn, and Y/n can hear Madame Pomfrey rustling around inside, the matron’s voice carrying over to Y/n. The student inside, a young male student by the sound of it, is whimpering slightly. As Y/n approaches the curtain, she notes that in between noises, he’s breathing heavily, almost sighing in pain.

“It’s alright dear, it’ll pass in no time, I swear it -- oh, there’s no use. Poor boy can’t even hear me.” Pomfrey pushes the curtain out of her way as she exits, carrying a small tub. Y/n watches her walk across the room to a sink, where she pulls a wet towel from the tub and wrings it out, dumping what looks like ice water down the drain when she’s done. Humming softly, Y/n glances back at the curtain and sees it’s been left slightly open, allowing her access to the student inside.

When she peers in, she’s met with the sight of Namjoon -- more specifically, an 11-year-old Namjoon -- lying in the bed, looking much too small and much too ill.

No, he’s not sick. He just looks sick.

The thought crosses Y/n’s mind when she takes him in fully -- when she takes in his eyes. Clouded over completely, staring up at the ceiling as if lost in time, Namjoon is drenched in sweat and is letting out small, periodic whimpers of pain, but he has no idea. He’s experiencing his Clock Day, and there’s no way for him to know how he looks until it’s passed.

Approaching him slowly, Y/n tries to process the information alongside everything she’d believed about Namjoon’s soulmate experience up until this moment. If he’d always known who his soulmate was -- if he’d known since first year -- why hadn’t he said anything? Why had he let everyone believe he was only just having his Clock Day? Why was he hiding his soulmate from them?

Standing over him, observing the emptiness in his gaze and wondering if that’s how she looked right now, somewhere outside of all of this, she can’t help but bring the back of her hand up to the side of his face -- he was just a kid. He had no idea of the man he’d become.

The moment her fingers graze over his cheek, sticky with sweat and unbearable heat, his whimpering stops and his shoulders start to fall, all the tension in them leaving. His eyes shut slowly, and a long sigh leaves him. A chill runs down Y/n’s spine, and she feels a deep panic forming in her chest -- had she hurt him? Was she not supposed to touch him? Did she just affect something and change the future in some way?

Just as she’s starting to truly fall into a pit of despair, Namjoon’s eyes are opening, his eyelashes flickering as he readjusts to the light of the room. His eyes are no longer clouded, but he’s still staring off into distance, trying to process what he’d just discovered. Y/n sits in the armchair beside his bed, watching intently as he blinks a few times before sighing. He looks too serious for a first year.

Hobi was right. No child should ever have to go through this.

The sound of the Hospital Wing doors slamming open shatters the moment of contemplation, prompting Namjoon to crane his neck to try to see past the curtain. Y/n finds herself doing the same. She can hear Pomfrey’s stern reminder for quiet, followed by footsteps -- only one pair, but they’re very hurried, almost a full run. The curtain flies open, and all of the breath in Y/n’s lungs leaves her in an instant.

She’s staring at herself -- a smaller, cuter version of herself. A version of herself that remembers this day with striking clarity. Hearing from Hoseok that Namjoon had felt sick that morning and gone to the Hospital Wing just as dawn had broken, 11-year-old Y/n had raced down to see him, skipping first hour, completely unconcerned with anything that wasn’t the boy lying in bed before her. 17-year-old Y/n remembers the fear that had taken her younger self, her head filled with thoughts of only Kim Namjoon, the smart but troublesome boy she’d met on the train just a few months prior. Y/n remembers the pain that had filled her that day, wanting nothing but to be next to him, and she’s hit with a sudden realization.

Whipping her gaze around to watch Namjoon, she sees that he has yet to say anything to her younger self, simply gazing at her with an unreadable expression on his face. It’s one of immense turmoil, but there’s a glimpse of something else just underneath his pain -- something that looks a lot like hope.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/n’s watches the girl with her own face make her way slowly over to Namjoon, setting her bag on the ground before standing beside him. Namjoon remains silent, just watching her -- taking her in with eyes that first year Y/n had never seen before. Taking her in with eyes that she would continue to see over the years but never understand -- eyes that could only start to make sense to 17-year-old Y/n in this moment.

She watches -- the pieces of Kim Namjoon starting to fit together in her mind -- as her younger self becomes uncomfortable under her friend’s gaze and breaks it by reaching out and taking his small hand in her equally tiny one. Y/n watches -- her memories of Kim Namjoon finally forming one coherent vision in her mind -- as young Namjoon stares down at their interlocked hands, her palm sitting perfectly in his, before looking up at her, a smile lingering on the edges of his mouth.

Y/n watches as one of her most prominent memories of Namjoon takes form before her eyes, finally making sense after six years. Staring down into her lap, she tries to make sense of every other memory of him the stands out, but she realizes fairly quickly that there’s no use. Every memory of Namjoon stands out to her. Every single one. Closing her eyes, she lets out a deep sigh, her brain an endless mess of smoke and confusion.

When she opens her eyes, she’s no longer in the Hospital Wing. Everything is still gray, but it’s too dark to tell exactly where she is. She can, however tell that she’s sitting on the edge of something soft -- something that reminds her of her bed. It takes a few moments for her eyes to adjust, but she’s able to see eventually that she’s sitting in a bedroom. However, it isn’t her own.

Skimming her fingers along the blanket around her, it takes no less than ten seconds to find him. Namjoon is sleeping beside her, looking much taller but not much older.

Third year. He grew a foot over summer holiday but still had the face of a kid.

Glancing over at the bed across from her, she confirms that she has the right time when she sees a blond Hoseok -- an experiment they had all regretted participating in -- fast asleep, his mouth hanging open and his limbs all over the place.

Returning her gaze to a 13-year-old Namjoon, Y/n notices with concern that he’s frowning deeply in his sleep, small sighs reaching her ears every few seconds. Leaning in to see him more clearly, she has to hold back a scream -- even knowing full well that he can’t see or hear her -- when his eyes open suddenly. He looks a bit shocked, but more obvious is the expression of sadness on his face. He blinks a few times before sitting up, staring down at the blanket while he thinks. Eventually, he wraps his arms around his knees and hides his face as he curls up. Y/n is overcome with a feeling of immense sadness.

After a few minutes, Namjoon lifts his head, and it pains Y/n to no end to see that he’s been crying. He sniffles once, drying his face with his shirt, before reaching over to his bedside table for his phone. Squinting when the light of his screen tries to blind him, he opens his text thread with 13-year-old Y/n and starts to type a new message. Present Y/n peers over the top of his phone and reads the words upside down, knowing that she probably doesn’t even need to.

NJ : you okay?

Y/N : how did you know i was awake?

NJ : you’re always awake

Y/N : okay well how did you know that im not okay

NJ : i had a bad dream

Y/N : you sound like my grandmother

NJ : got the bones of a grandmother, too

Y/N : you do crackle a lot when you move

NJ : are you going to tell me what’s going on

Y/N : ,,, diana’s sick,, like really sick

Y/N : pomfrey’s trying to treat her

NJ : omw

Y/N : ???

Namjoon throws the blanket off of himself and, scooping up a sweatshirt from on top of his trunk, slides his feet into his slippers and heads out of the dorm as quietly as he can. Y/n follows, knowing exactly where he’s headed. Watching these memories from his point of view, however, is filling in all the gaps in her own, so she can’t help but be intrigued by every moment -- every step Namjoon takes, every time he speeds up a little bit as he covers the distance between himself and the Hospital Wing, every time he slows down as he’s turning corners, still careful of the prefects roaming the corridors. When he finally turns the last corner, Y/n watches as he stops in his tracks, staring down the corridor at a younger Y/n, one who’s been sobbing for hours as she paces in front of the Hospital Wing doors, one who’s already encountered three prefects who have all given her a free pass because of how distraught she is. It’s two in the morning, and Namjoon is staring down the corridor at a Y/n who’s been here since ten and hasn’t said anything to any of them.

Sighing, Namjoon shoves his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants, making his way down to her. She notices him when he’s about halfway there, offering him a weak greeting before resuming her endless pacing. He stops right beside her, watching as his friend passes him once, twice, and then twice more. He finally puts his hand out, latching onto her arm and gripping tightly when she tries to pull away. Wordlessly, he pulls her toward him, bringing her into his arms and securing her in his hold when she finally falls into him, losing all of her strength.

Throwing her arms around Namjoon, she cries into his neck, needing him much more than he could ever know. All he does know is that he’d been woken from his sleep, filled with an impossible sadness that made him want to run to her, wherever she would have been. He would have run to her even if she’d been in the forest, or off the grounds entirely. He’d needed to find her because he feared his chest would cave in from the amount of pain he felt when he didn’t have her next to him. He’d wanted to take all of her sorrow away, but in the process of finding her he realized that he could breathe again once he had her.

Walking them slowly over to the wall just outside of the Hospital Wing, Namjoon pulls away from Y/n just for the time it takes for them to sit down together, and then she’s back in his arms, leaning against him heavily as he whispers words of comfort to her. They stay like that until just before breakfast, when Pomfrey comes out and sees that they’ve fallen asleep, clinging to each other tightly. Unbeknownst to anyone, 17-year-old Y/n is sleeping not too far away, having drifted off while watching them talk throughout the night.

When she wakes, it’s still dark, but she’s sitting in a well-lit corridor. More importantly, she’s sitting across from an even older Namjoon, who’s perched on a windowsill scrolling through his phone even though it’s well past curfew. Rubbing her eyes as she stands, Y/n makes her way over to him, leaning in to see what he’s up to. There on his screen is a picture of the prefect schedule, and he keeps zooming in and out of the section with Y/n’s name on it. She chuckles, shaking her head as she takes a seat next to him and waits for whatever’s to come.

Only a few minutes pass before footsteps can be heard echoing nearby. Namjoon perks up, putting his phone away and looking toward the end of the corridor expectantly -- Y/n can’t help but smile at how cute he is. Following his gaze, she watches as her younger self turns the corner, wand well-lit despite the castle lighting being phenomenal in this area. She’s showing off her freshly polished prefect’s badge and smiling as she does her patrol. Y/n looks at this younger version of herself and has to hold back a laugh.

Oh, to be fifteen and a total dork.

Y/n watches as her younger self looks straight ahead, completely focused on her duties, and she’s fond of this annoying rule-follower she used to be. She remembers clearly how happy she’d been to be named prefect, and she’d wanted to do her best. So she’d polished her badge and kept her notepad ready and gone on her first patrol in a dweeby kind of excitement. Not even an hour in, she’d found Namjoon.

“Joon? What are you doing?” Namjoon smiles, waving her over excitedly. With a cautious look on her face, she approaches her friend, who she is well aware had become a bit of a troublemaker over the years but still finds him adorable and harmless. He pulls his bag off his shoulder and starts to open it, talking as he does.

“Well, I didn’t know if patrol would be boring or lame, so I brought you a book just in case!” An enormous smile fills her face, and she laughs softly as he pulls out a stack of reading materials. “Okay, actually I brought a lot because I didn’t know what you’d like… hopefully you like books on various niche topics and magical research.” He lifts his gaze, beaming up at her as he holds out the stack of books, waiting for her to choose. Y/n puts her wand away, stepping up him and glancing through the titles. She pulls one out that has magical creatures on the cover and nods decisively as she flips through it.

“This one looks cool.” She stops leafing through the pages to watch Namjoon as he puts the rest back and begins to ramble.

“Oh, that’s a great choice! They have this awesome chapter on veelas and the genetic traits that get passed down to their children, which is super cool when you think about half-veelas or quarter-veelas or even one-eighth-veelas, which are kinda rare, but-” He cuts himself off, realizing that he’s gone on for far too long and taking a sheepish glance at Y/n. She’s smiling at him so sweetly he swears his heartbeat actually stutters for a moment, but he clears his throat and points at the book in her hand. “I should stop talking… don’t want to spoil it for you.” Y/n tucks the book under her arm, aiming her smile down at her feet as she responds.

“Thanks, Joon, I’ll make sure to tell you what I think of it when I’m done… by the way, you do realize you’re out after curfew, right?” Namjoon hums awkwardly, lifting his bag onto his shoulder as he stands.

“I’m only out if you say I am.”

“What does that even mean?” Namjoon laughs at her confusion, reaching out and locating a piece of hair that’s fallen into her face. He runs it back until it’s tucked safely behind her ear, at that point letting his arm fall to his side and taking a couple steps back.

“You suddenly have no recollection of seeing me tonight… that book is yours now. Have a good first patrol, Y/n. I’m proud of you.” Not giving her enough time to respond, Namjoon turns on his heel and disappears down another corridor, one leading to Ravenclaw Tower. Y/n just stands there staring after him, only remembering the book in her arms when it just about falls to the ground.

The older Y/n watches her younger self look back through the book for a bit before lifting her gaze to the spot where Namjoon disappeared, a small smile gracing her features and she starts to wander down her route for the night, almost no attention paid to anything outside of her new book. Y/n knows well that she’d return to her room that night and place it on her bedside table, picking it up every night to read just a bit more, as it was an admittedly difficult book deserving only of Ravenclaw eyes. She would eventually get through it, and then she’d read it again to really feel like she got it all. It still sits on her bedside table, always unpacked at the beginning of the year and put in its own spot next to her.

Y/n waits as the scene fades around her, and the space fills up with new setting -- soon she’s surrounded by the castle staircases.

She knows this scene well -- it’s the day that she’d fallen down the stairs from Tae and Jimin’s prank. She can tell by the crowd of people that’s gathering. 6th year Y/n hasn’t made it there yet, still in a meeting with Dumbledore about prefect matters that was running a little late at the moment.

This was supposed to be the ultimate prank of the year -- and it certainly was memorable, but not entirely for that reason. Jimin had just had his Clock Day not even a week prior, and he and Tae were celebrating their newfound love the only way they knew how. The entire school knew about it, and the professors had long given up trying to stop the two Slytherin troublemakers. Someone steps up beside 7th year Y/n, busy scrolling through their phone. She looks up and is met with the sight of 6th year Namjoon, smiling down at his screen as he bombards Y/n with annoying texts, complaining that she was late. Yoongi’s standing with Jin, Jungkook, and Hoseok not even five feet away, and he calls out to Namjoon excitedly when he spots the Ravenclaw.

“Joon! Over here, over here! We got some great spots to watch the show!” Jungkook bites his lip and looks away, hiding his extremely fond smile. Jin and Hoseok make amused eye contact, and Y/n can see now by Jin’s lingering gaze and their small grins that they’d been dating for a while and that the rest of them were all just blind to their very obvious love.

Yoongi makes his way over to the tall boy beside her, striking up a conversation about his new plant and some fun caretaking methods he’d found online the other day. Namjoon nods along, still slightly distracted as he glances around the massive crowd for his favorite person. He has his back just turned enough to not be able to see that 6th year Y/n has emerged not too far away and is searching for her friends. Y/n watches her younger self make her way along the side of the banister in their general direction, and she’s very aware of what’s to come in the next few moments.

Jimin and Tae had bewitched the staircases to move on their command, shifting them out of their normal rotation pattern in order to lock them firmly into the sides of the walls they’re attached to, effectively creating a cavern more than 10 stories high, giving them room to set off the insane amount of fireworks they’d made all the way from the Slytherin dungeons. The fireworks were supposed to go to the very top of the castle, exploding just before they crashed into the ceiling. They were never set off.

As Y/n was looking for her friend group, knowing they’d be somewhere close to the stair banisters, but having no idea what the plan was, she’d stepped out onto one of the staircases to get a better angle to find her friends. Since her meeting had run late, she’d missed the very aggressive announcement from Tae that no one should step onto the stairs for at least ten minutes before the show started, and the chaotic soulmates were down in the dungeons, just about to execute their plan. They never saw her.

Y/n can’t bring herself to watch what she already has painfully etched into her memory, choosing instead to watch Namjoon converse with Yoongi in the moments before her tragic staircase accident. She’s extremely lucky she’d been watching him.

She knows that the staircases have started moving when she hears people cheering, but she actually knows almost half a second before that. A painful, ice cold chill runs down the length of her spine -- it’s like nothing she’s ever felt before, and she’s felt the fear of falling 20 feet off of a staircase.

She realizes that the feeling is coming from Namjoon -- he’s the one feeling that ice cold pain coursing through his veins. It’s as if the world stops -- one second, he’s listening to Yoongi explain how to pick the right terrarium, and the next, he can’t hear anything at all. Y/n also can’t hear a thing -- everything’s muffled, and all she can hear is a heartbeat, thumping so loudly, so quickly that it could only belong to the girl who’s currently tumbling down a set of stairs into a free fall.

Namjoon turns, and Y/n can see that he knows exactly where her younger self is without having ever seen her. With a strength that she didn’t even know he possessed, he shoves past every person between him and the banister, literally knocking some poor Hufflepuff boy to the ground as he rushes to the stairs.

Throwing himself against the side of the wall when he gets there, Namjoon finds Y/n’s eyes almost instantly -- she’s staring up at him as she falls, still in shock at what’s happening. Y/n won’t remember until this very moment, when she’s standing in her own memory, but she’d seen Namjoon take action as she was falling. He hadn’t been quite fast enough -- she’d still hit the second set of stairs and pass out right there -- but he had managed to slow her down before she’d landed.

Namjoon pulls his wand out of his pocket so fast that the older Y/n hadn’t even seen him do it. Pointing it straight down at her, he calls after her, a silent spell manifesting from nothing but the force of his own will -- the force of his complete and total terror that something would happen to her. It’s the first time he’d ever been able to successfully cast a silent spell, having complained for weeks that he wasn’t able to get it no matter how much he practiced. Y/n feels it all in that moment, all of the soul-shattering fear Namjoon was carrying, and she has to lean heavily on the wall to steady herself, wondering how he’d managed to push past that and cast the spell successfully.

The spell hits Y/n squarely in the chest, instantly slowing her fall. It isn’t enough to prevent her arm from breaking, and it isn’t enough to stop her from complaining for the next full week about a backache, but it is enough to soften the landing and keep her safe from something much worse. They’d been lucky, really -- the stairs she’d landed on just happened to be passing beneath her on its way to its formation. If another second had gone by, she’d still be falling into the dungeons.

Y/n watches everything from above, and she can hear everyone jumping into action. She can hear everyone’s cheers turn into gasps of terror, and she can hear her friends all calling for her, all rushing to the nearest staircase to get down to her. She can even see down into the dungeons, where Tae is holding a firework and a flame, where Jimin is calling out to him frantically to stop. But most clearly, she can see that Namjoon is already at her side, having scaled over the top of the wall and essentially taken his chances at getting down to her as quickly as possible without falling. He’s shaking her furiously, grabbing her face and yelling for someone to alert Pomfrey when she doesn’t respond, already out cold. Jin is yelling down at Jimin and Tae, instructing them to move the staircases carefully so Namjoon can get her to the Hospital Wing.

Namjoon holds tightly onto the side of staircase as Tae brings it around to the corridor leading straight to the Hospital Wing, gripping Y/n tightly in his other arm as they go. He doesn’t even wait for the stairs to stop moving -- as soon as they’re close enough, he’s scooping her up in his arms and running full speed into the passageway, disappearing from view completely.

Y/n watches the rest of the room devolve into chaos -- Jimin and Tae fly up from the depths of the dungeon on Jimin’s broomstick, gesturing wildly at their friends as they all barrel down the nearest staircase together in an attempt to follow after Namjoon. Jin is pulling Hoseok along by his hand as they race to the front of the group, Jin trying to get Hoseok to his best friend as fast as possible. Yoongi is clinging to Jungkook’s side, eyes wet, and she can see him whispering mantras of positivity to himself as they go. She can see he doesn’t believe them even as he says them, and Jungkook is the one to take over and reinforce the words as they run together. Jimin is guiding himself and Tae up the cavern and back around as Tae shouts for the crowd to disperse, threatening to set the fireworks off in a dangerous way if they don’t all get lost. He looks very much like the Slytherin he is but never shows to the world.

Everyone leaves just as Dumbledore is running into the space, commanding the attention of the two Slytherins. Jimin looks back at Tae and, knowing full well how much trouble they’d be in if they got caught, they head straight for the headmaster. Landing beside him, they don’t even give him a chance to start reprimanding them -- they both start yelling at the same time, pointing desperately in the direction of the Hospital Wing and begging him to come with them to see if he can do anything. The old wizard is so thrown by the display that all he can do is follow after them as they run to join their friends.

Y/n watches everything from the top of the stairs. She sees everything -- all of the chaos, all of the fear -- and she thinks about the fact that she’d had absolutely no idea any of this had happened. She’d passed out and woken up a day later, in a world of pain but thankfully not seriously hurt. She’d watched her friends come and go every day, and she’d noted that Namjoon only ever left her side to eat and shower when he was sure she was sleeping. It was the only thing she knew about the entire accident, and it wasn’t even close to what actually had happened. She doesn’t even notice when the scene changes, too caught up in her own thoughts to register the smoke filling her vision and flowing into something new.

The smoke clears, leaving her shrouded in trees and darkness. She’s standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the moon full and bright above her. She can’t see Namjoon anywhere, so she starts heading in the direction of the castle, its silhouette visible in the distance. She’s about halfway there when she hears it.

“Namjoon likes me, Namjoon likes me!”

“How did they make you Head Girl? You’re a child!” Unable to mask her smile, Y/n hurries out past the treeline and in the direction of the voices, this memory much more recent. Just there past a grove of trees sits a cluster of rocks, outlining the edge of the lake well. Namjoon is heading over to them now, hopping carefully until he gets to a spot that he likes. Y/n can barely make out her younger self, herself from not even a few months ago, crouched by the lake, running her fingers through the water lightly. Y/n heads toward Namjoon just as her other self is yelling back to him.

“This water’s cold as fuck!” Y/n remembers the feeling that comes next, but it’s a different experience in Namjoon’s perspective. That feeling of adoration she’d felt all those weeks ago down by the lake -- the feeling that had left her wondering what her soulmate was up to at the time -- makes sense now. It makes complete sense to her, just as everything about Namjoon is finally starting to make sense. Every glance, every smile. He’d always known. He’d just been waiting for her to notice him -- he’d been waiting for her to love him.

A quiet yelp followed by a bit of rustling catches Y/n’s attention, and she’s not surprised to find Namjoon has already caught her from wiping out on the rocks and is holding her gently, just a few feet away. Feeling strangely intrusive, Y/n averts her eyes, settling down on the rocks and staring out at the lake while her younger self shares her first intimate moment with Namjoon.

A few moments later, the sound of mumbling, followed soon by paper being slapped on skin, alerts Y/n of her own exit from an awkward moment. Turning back to the scene, she catches herself running away in the distance -- truly a humorous sight indeed -- but her attention is on Namjoon. He’s staring down at the detention slip that had been stuck to his face, chuckling slightly to himself. Y/n’s heart warms at the fondness in his expression, thankful that he hadn’t been discouraged by her behavior.

“This girl, I swear…” He starts to head back into the castle, and Y/n can tell she’s meant to follow. They make their way slowly through the castle, Y/n watching as Namjoon gets lost in his thoughts. They make it all the way up to Ravenclaw Tower, where Namjoon stops suddenly just before the entrance to his common room. He’s still lost in his thoughts, but there’s a smile spreading slowly across his face. It finally reaches his eyes, and suddenly he’s spinning around in the corridor, punching the air and literally bouncing in place as quietly as he can.

“She almost kissed me!” Running up to the door to his common room, he completely ignores the riddle that the eagle knocker asks him.

“Did you hear what I said? She almost kissed me! Can you believe it?” The eagle knocker remains silent while Namjoon parades around in front of the door, eventually opening its mouth.

“How lovely. Please answer the question.” Halting his excited bouncing to glare at the knocker, Namjoon answers the riddle with an impatient wave of his hand. The door slides open, allowing Namjoon to rush into the common room and up the stairs to his room, Y/n following behind in a shocked daze at Namjoon’s display. Throwing the door open and barely managing to get his shoes off, Namjoon hops on top of his bed, chanting happily.

“Hobi, wake up, wake up! She almost kissed me tonight -- wake up, bitch! I’m having a moment here!” Y/n watches from the door as Hoseok rolls over in his bed and reaches for something she can’t see. Their third roommate, a kind but rather quiet boy named Roger, starts to whine loudly, begging Namjoon to quiet down. She feels bad for him -- he’s been put through a lot with them as roommates -- but she forgets about him completely when she sees Hoseok’s shoe fly across the room with shocking speed and accuracy. It hits Namjoon in the face, sending him tumbling to the ground instantly.

“Shut it, you overgrown kindergartner! If I sleep through first hour tomorrow, I’m ripping every single one of your hairs out of your head with my bare hands!” Despite the pout that forms on Namjoon’s face as he sits on the ground holding Hoseok’s shoe, Y/n can’t help but laugh at the interaction, very typical of her two Ravenclaw boys. He sits there for a few more seconds, enough time for Y/n to cross the room and take a seat on the trunk at the foot of his bed. Watching him carefully, she’s pleased to see that his frown soon becomes a smile once again as he recalls the events of that night.

Climbing onto his bed, he reaches into his pocket for his phone, sending Y/n what she remembers to be a very sweet goodnight text. Once that’s done, he tosses the phone onto his bedside table before taking it upon himself to flop back onto his mattress dramatically, smiling dreamily up at the ceiling. The last thing Y/n sees before the smoke pulls her away is Namjoon placing a hand on his chest and scrunching up the material of his shirt -- the material that lies just above his heart -- and closing his eyes, the smile lingering on his lips.

The moment the smoke places her in her next memory, Y/n realizes it isn’t a memory at all. She’s standing in a massive group of people -- her entire class. They all have smiles on their faces, and they’re all hugging one another and taking photos. But this isn’t what she notices - it’s their outfits. All the same, all identical. The cap and gown.

Graduation? But this is months away…

Her own laughter reaches her ears, and it doesn’t take much longer to find herself. She -- her older self? -- is standing with the rest of their friends, laughing as Diana tries to chew on Jungkook’s dress pants. Only five of them are wearing gowns, the Slytherins and Jungkook still stuck at Hogwarts for another year. Hoseok is taking photos of Jin, who looks like he’s suffering not only from the heat, but also from his boyfriend’s scrutiny.

“Come on, Jin! Just one smile for the camera, and I will let this go -- my mom wants a photo!”

“Why does it have to be of just me? She’s your mom!”

“Because she says you’re the most handsome person she’s ever seen, and I completely agree.” Jin waves Hoseok off, unwilling to take the photo. That is, until he makes eye contact with Yoongi, who’s standing just a little ways away. At the sight of his roommate pulling a mini magical cactus from within his robe and brandishing it at Jin menacingly, Jin turns to Hoseok with a wide smile.

“I love photos, let’s take ten!” Confused but pleasantly surprised, Hoseok lets Jin lead him off toward the lake for their photoshoot. Y/n starts to laugh uncontrollably as she watches Yoongi tuck the cactus back into his robes innocently, and it unnerves her to see that her older self has also witnessed the exchange and is laughing alongside her.

Turning back to the larger friend group, almost desperate to avoid another coincidence with herself, she finds Namjoon bent at Jungkook’s feet, trying to keep his cap on his head as he wrestles Diana from Jungkook’s leg. Jungkook is crying out in pain at the claws that have been buried in his ankle -- no one sees that Jimin and Tae are enjoying the show immensely, even going so far as to start recording the entire thing.

When he finally manages to remove the cat from the poor Gryffindor’s limb, Namjoon stands and turns to Y/n, narrowly avoiding a claw to his face in the process.

“Please tell your demon cat that scratching people’s ankles off is rude as fuck.” Y/n laughs, reaching for Diana and cooing at her once she’s safely in Y/n’s arms.

“It’s not her fault Jungkook is such a thicc boy and attracts the attention of anything that wants a bite -- isn’t that right, Diana?” Diana curls up and purrs in response, sending everyone into a fit of laughter and comments about Jungkook’s thiccness as the Gryffindor scowls at the cat. The younger Y/n almost joins their laughter, but something catches her eye before she has time to look away from her older self.

Just there on her left hand -- the same hand that is cradling Diana -- sits a ring, one she’d never seen before. Ignoring the discomfort of being so close to a version of herself that didn’t exist yet, she approaches the girl in front of her, taking the ring in fully. A small diamond is nested in the band of it, shining brightly despite its size. She can’t stop herself from looking up at Namjoon, who stands beside her older self. He’s staring down at her, the smile on his face one of humor from the current situation, but also one of love and adoration, known only to them.

Y/n watches the moment and knows she’s the only one who can see it, despite being the only one who isn’t physically there. She can see how much Namjoon loves her and how happy he is to be able to show it. As the scene fades, she can’t help but wonder if what she’s seeing is really the future -- the image of a Namjoon who hasn’t acknowledged her in weeks comes back to her, only serving to bring pain into her heart. She doesn’t bother to try to see where the smoke is taking her.

She’s staring down at a wooden floor, in a house she doesn’t recognize. Lifting her gaze and glancing around, however, she finds that it’s quite a nice home. The smoke had left her standing in the middle of the kitchen, and she can’t help but run her fingers along the counter top as she makes her way through the room. It’s spotless, but it looks lived in.

Comfortable. Beautiful.

Passing under an archway that opens into the main room, she can see stairs leading up to the second floor, the front door just past them. Taking in everything as she moves through the room -- the sofa draped in various warm blankets, the tattered book sitting open on the coffee table, the array of house plants sitting on the windowsill -- she can’t help but feel like this home is perfect for her. Just as she makes it to the stairs and is putting a foot on the first step, the sound of rustling in a room off to the right calls her attention.

Approaching the room, she peeks her head around the doorway and finds herself looking into an office, lit with the warmth of a fireplace crackling softly in the corner. She doesn’t even see the person sitting at the desk until they lift their head, clearly awakening from an unexpected nap.

Namjoon stretches in his seat, arms reaching high above his head as he lets out a tired groan. He looks older, maybe by 4 or 5 years. There’s a stack of files next to where he’d been napping on the desk, and there’s a smear of ink across his right cheek from his quill. Looking around his immediate area, he swears softly under his breath.

“Where did I put them?” He’s just about to stick his head under the desk to search for his missing item when a quiet meow rings through the room. Y/n looks down just in time to see a very familiar cat entering the room, a pair of round specs dangling from her mouth. She hops up onto the desk once she reaches it, taking a seat on top of whatever Namjoon had been working on before dropping his glasses into his outstretched hand. With a fond smile, he places the glasses on his face before scratching the back of the cat’s ear.

“Thanks, Diana. I knew you’d like me one day.” Y/n watches the exchange, filled with a mixture of disbelief and joy. Never once in the seven years she’d known Namjoon had Diana expressed anything other than complete disdain for the Ravenclaw, and yet here it seems they’ve been friends for ages.

The front door opens behind her, followed by the soft call of a voice that sounds much like hers but more mature.

“I’m home! Joon?” She watches Namjoon smile as he peers through her into the other room.

“In here!” An older Y/n -- 4 or 5 years older -- steps up beside her younger, shocked self in the doorway. She’s wearing business attire, and she’s carrying a bag of takeaway, which she holds up for Namjoon to see. She looks poised, impressive -- but she still looks like herself. She doesn’t look like a stuck-up adult. She just looks… older.

She looks pretty freaking cool.

“I saw you still had a lot of assignments to grade when I was leaving this morning, so I got your favorite.” Namjoon cheers, moving to stand from his seat but taking the time to point cutely at Diana, still seated peacefully on his work.

“Diana brought me my glasses! I think she finally likes me.” He looks very proud of this fact, even reaching out to pet her one last time. She swipes at his hand in anger, scratching his palm slightly. They glare at each other for a moment before Namjoon gets up, shaking his head. “One day she’ll love me.”

“Namjoon, we’ve been married for five years and she only just today did one nice thing for you. You’ve still got a way to go with her.” Rolling his eyes, he approaches Y/n and leans forward, planting a kiss on her lips. Younger Y/n has to look away, slightly shaken by the unexpected display. Only when he’s pulled away does she feel comfortable enough to look again, attributing the warmth in her face the fireplace not too far away.

“How was work?” Y/n sighs, reaching out with her free hand to wipe at the ink on his face, giving away that he’d been napping just before she arrived.

“It was fine. The Minister’s been on us to meet fiscal year deadlines as if we’re not drowning in his debt. I’m just happy to be home.” The tired look in her eyes fades once she starts smiling up at Namjoon, who’s taken her free hand in his own and started leaning against the door frame while he was listening to her. It puts him in the perfect position to bring his lips to the top of her head in a comforting kiss, which only serves to widen her smile.

“Well, Mrs. Kim, you are doing a fine job over there at the Ministry. Meanwhile, I was so confused about the fact that one of my students doesn’t know the difference between transformation and switching that I took a stress nap instead of writing feedback for him.” He laughs lightly when Y/n puts her index finger against his forehead and pushes him away from her. Diana following closely behind, she heads into the kitchen, calling back to him.

“Not everyone is good at transfiguration, Joon -- remember how I was? I would have failed my N.E.W.T without you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if we’d done more studying instead of messing around that night you would have gotten a better score.” Younger Y/n blushes deeply, barely managing to follow behind Namjoon as he heads into the kitchen as well.

“I passed, didn’t I? And if I remember correctly, I’m the one that actually wanted to study -- you just got bored because you’re a know-it-all.” He barks out a laugh.

“Guilty as charged, but can you blame me? I waited seven years for you to love me, I was obsessed with you once we started dating… I still kind of am obsessed with you.” Younger Y/n watches Namjoon corner her older self between two counter tops, smiling cheekily down at her and laughing when she pushes lightly against his chest. Taking her in his arms, he suddenly becomes serious, his smile dropping.

“Y/n?” Both of the women in question keep their eyes on Namjoon, entranced by him, just as it had always been -- entranced by his presence from the moment he’d come into her life.

“Thank you for loving me.”

Y/n can feel herself reaching out to him, disregarding the futility in it, but she doesn’t get the chance to call out to him. The smoke has started to fill her vision -- but it doesn’t transform the room smoothly. This time, something takes hold of the back of her belt, latching onto her and yanking her upwards, out of the smoke entirely. Muffling her scream with her hand, she watches the cloud of smoke shrink below her until it becomes the spec of grey she’d seen when this all started. She screws her eyes shut, dizzy from the climb -- confused beyond belief but finding her resolve in the truth.

When Y/n opens her eyes, she’s staring at the lake, and it’s gotten much darker. She’s also much farther away from the lake than she remembers being when she first fainted -- she can see more of the shoreline, and she’s fairly certain she’s under a tree. Trying to scan her surroundings, she tilts her head up before coming to a stop, registering that there’s something very soft underneath her cheek.

“You’re awake.” The voice, although familiar and comforting, is a shock all the same, so she jumps in surprise, turning her head to locate it. She finds herself staring up into Namjoon’s eyes, and she realizes belatedly that the soft thing under her is his leg. Lifting herself off of him with her elbow, she takes the time to glance around -- there’s no need to examine the grounds, of course. She just isn’t prepared to face Namjoon.

“How did you know where I was?” She says this while glancing around herself still, adjusting her positioning until she’s leaning back against the tree. Namjoon shifts next to her, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin while he stares out at the lake.

“I could feel that it was starting… and I just knew where to find you.” Y/n nods, deciding to just be satisfied with his response instead of questioning the mechanics of it. They sit in silence for a few minutes, simply staring out at the lake together as the sun begins to set. She can feel that Namjoon’s waiting for her to say something, so, gathering her courage, she turns to him, holding her tongue until he’s met her eyes, which he does after a brief pause.

“You knew this entire time?” Namjoon looks away quickly, unable to face her. He nods once, and she takes this as her signal to continue, her frustrations with him over the past few weeks boiling to the surface. “Then why have you been avoiding me? What’s been going on with you?” Groaning deeply, he leans back against the tree, his limbs dropping into a sort of sprawled position beside her. His eyes are shut, brow furrowed. He looks conflicted.

“I was an idiot --”

“That’s a massive understatement.” His eyes find hers, and he turns fully to face her, his expression earnest and a bit desperate.

“I freaked out, Y/n. When Hobi said it wasn’t guaranteed that we’d end up together, my entire world fell apart. I had always assumed we’d be together and that I just had to wait for you to find out it was me -- I thought it was enough that I loved you. But then he started talking about free will and people without soulmates and losing the emotional connection and -- I lost it, okay? I lost it. Everything I’d believed about us for the last seven years was ripped apart… but I was an asshole.”

“Yeah. You were.” His eyes drift down until he’s staring at the ground, clearly humbled and apologetic. “But… I understand --” When he whips his head up to look at her, his eyes appear to have become hopeful. “I mean, what you did was fucked up, the boys are really upset--” His head dips again, his frown deepening. “But I understand why you freaked out. I just… wish you had handled it better.” They sit in silence together, Y/n staring down at the top of Namjoon’s head while he waits beside her, looking not unlike a scolded child.

“Did you think I would be mad once I found out you’d known all this time about us?” He glances up at her briefly before returning his gaze to lap, where he finds great interest in picking at his fingernails. Slowly, and only after a small sigh, he nods, still refusing to meet her eyes.

“Even after everything we’ve been through -- all of the flirting and the deep talks and late nights together?” Another nod. “Do you realize how stupid that is?” He stops fidgeting, choosing instead to examine the ground extensively while he thinks. Finally, he nods, pulling his head up to look into her eyes before nodding again, gaze solemn.

“I know. I’m really sorry. You have no idea how painful it was to know I’d hurt you… I just thought that if you really were going to choose someone else -- or at the very least if you were going to be disappointed in me being your soulmate -- I… just thought I should distance myself beforehand… But I hated every second of it, and I wish I could take it all back... I’m sorry.” He looks like he’s going to continue, but Y/n stops him. Reaching out, she takes one of his hands in hers, intertwining their fingers while nodding.

“Okay. I forgive you -- it’s going to be hard for me to trust you fully again, but I forgive you.” She squeezes his hand, and for the first time since waking up, she smiles at him. Taking her in, Namjoon can’t help but feel overwhelmed with affection, and he knows she can feel it when she starts to snicker at him. Nudging her playfully, he turns back to the lake, sitting beside her as they lean against the tree. Their hands lie clasped in her lap, a slight zap of electricity running through their palms every few seconds. The feeling is new but warm, one of completeness.

“So… what was your Clock Day like?” She doesn’t bother turning to look at him when she asks, knowing he’ll just keep staring out at the water while he ponders.

“It was… a lot to handle as a first year.” She nods, remembering Hobi’s words once again. “There weren’t very many memories, actually. It was mostly visions of the future. We hadn’t known each other that long -- how could I have anything substantial to remember yet? Actually… do you remember coming to visit me in the Hospital Wing?”

“Yeah, of course. That was my first memory.” He hums, thinking about that day a little longer.

“I knew you would be coming. It was the first vision that the smoke showed me.” She smiles fondly at that term -- “the smoke” -- because she knew there was no other way to talk about it. The inner workings of fate and magic were too advanced for any one person to understand and talk about eloquently. “It showed me that you were on your way -- when you showed up, I thought ‘Ah, so my future really has been decided’. But then… things kept changing.” Y/n looks up at him, taking in the expression on his face. He looks lost, confused about the truth -- but there’s something resigned about it, as if he’d accepted that the world was much different than he thought.

“What changed?” He looks down at her before dropping his eyes to their intertwined hands.

“The way I’d seen my future wasn’t the way it always turned out. Eventually I figured out at that the visions the smoke shows you aren’t set in stone -- they’re more potentialities than fact. There was something about the way our reality developed that changed things along the way -- sometimes they were just small details, but sometimes entire events were different… like your accident.” With a furrowed brow and concerned interest, Y/n leans in, urging Namjoon silently to continue. He does so only after a sigh.

“You weren’t supposed to become a prefect. In my visions, we were just normal kids who got into equal amounts of trouble and made it through school without anything remarkable happening. But you were always a high achiever, so when you were made prefect, I was surprised, but happy for you all the same… except… if you hadn’t become a prefect, you wouldn’t have been late to the fireworks show. We would have gone together, and you would have heard the announcement about the stairs because you wouldn’t have been in a meeting that had run late. I wasn’t prepared for you to fall because that wasn’t the reality I had seen… I had no idea that day was going to happen.”

They sit in silence, staring out at the lake together as the words settle in the air above them. It weighs down on them -- the complications of fate and reality, the power of free will in a world ruled by destiny. Things never turn out quite like they’re supposed to, and Y/n can only guess how unimaginably terrifying that would be for someone who’d relied on fate for so long.

“That’s why you were scared I wouldn’t want to be with you -- you were already nervous that things had turned out differently up to this point, so hearing that not even our future is guaranteed tipped you over the edge.” She can see him nodding out of the corner of her eye, and she finally feels like she understands. “Well, even if you have acted like an idiot for the last few weeks, I still want to be with you. I think I always have.” Namjoon squeezes her hand tightly, a breath of relief leaving him -- one that, frankly, she had no idea he’d been holding.

“Well that’s good because I already picked out the necklace I was going to give you at graduation, and it would just be plain awkward to return it.” She turns to him in confusion.

“Necklace? In my vision it was an engagement ring… to be honest, I’m not ready to get married yet.” Namjoon looks at her, eyes shining with mirth.

“That’s also good to hear… I don’t have the money to buy you a ring yet.” She pushes him away, laughter ringing through the air. The word “yet” doesn’t go unnoticed, however, and she tries to hide her face from him as redness creeps up her cheeks. If he catches her blush, he doesn’t say anything about it, instead choosing to move onto a different subject.

“Did you… have a vision about us a few years from now? Living together in a really nice house? I think I was taking a nap?” Y/n smiles and closes her eyes, finding herself leaning against Namjoon as she reminisces on the vision.

“Yeah, you were grading Transfiguration homework, and I was getting home from work… I worked for the Ministry.” He hums, wrapping an arm around her as he reflects on her words.

“In mine you worked at St. Mungo’s -- you were a healer.” There’s a pause, and then he chuckles under his breath. “I think I like you as a healer better. ‘Healer Y/n’ has a sexy ring to it.” With a scoff that sounds a lot more like a laugh than she’d care to admit, Y/n is pushing herself off of him and rising to her feet, leaving him behind as she heads down to the lake. Namjoon’s hand around her wrist a few moments later, pulling her back into his chest, has her laughing openly. Her hands find his waist, where she anchors herself and clings to him, reveling in the fact that she can do this kind of thing now.

They stand there for a while, watching the sun set over the horizon, thinking about their lives up until that point. When the last of the light disappears below the water, Y/n takes a deep breath and lifts her head from Namjoon’s chest to look up at him. Feeling that she’s moved, he glances down at her, realizing only when their noses touch just how close they are.

In a rush of courage that can only be the mark of a Gryffindor, Y/n pushes up on her tippy toes, pressing her lips to his as gently as possible. She isn’t ready for the way the world seems to stop all around her -- she isn’t ready for the way her heart stops, a flame finding its spark within the cavern of her chest. It spreads like wildfire to the rest of her body, getting stronger the longer she kisses him. It burns through her and attracts her to him like an addiction all the same. The love she feels for him in that moment -- coupled with the force of Namjoon reciprocating the emotions, completely in time with her -- is enough to set her skin alight, tearing through every nerve in her body.

Only when it’s too much -- when she feels like she’s going to explode with this burning energy -- does she pull away, breathing embarrassingly hard. She can’t even tell that he’s having the same difficulties as her, having also just experienced the pure collision of forces that had knocked the wind out of her. He barely has time to register that she’s leaning her head against his chest and is whispering something to him in her surge of emotion. What he hears has him lifting her face with his hands as he yearns for another kiss, seven years overdue.

“Thank you, Namjoon… Thank you for waiting for me.”

#bts texts #bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts soulmate au #bts hogwarts au #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon texts #namjoon au

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brooklyn-times · 5 years ago

Text

Five Stages

PAIRING: BUCKY BARNES X READER

SUMMARY: The five different stages of their relationship.

WARNING: soft bucky, mention of sex (no graphic description though), angsty, and I don’t know, is Bucky Barnes a warning?

word count: 2721

A/N: Happy reading. My first ever fanfic. A one-shot, BUT STILL. I hope you enjoy it!!

“I don’t trust you.”

You look up from the tab in your hand which was currently showing a map and two dots on it.

You both are on the Quinjet along with Nat on a mission to track down a self-proclaimed, psychotic super-villain who believes that he is following God’s wishes by getting rid of pesty humans.

His words, not yours.

“Cool. Pass me the water bottle, will you?”

He frowns at you, pursing his lips. Predictably he leaves your room without saying anything more. And without giving your bottle.

Grumpy asshole.

You had arrived at the compound almost three months back with nothing more than a backpack filled with a pair of clothes and fifty dollars, surprising everybody when you single-handedly caused a citywide blackout. Tony Stark, bless his soul, had taken you into the group, training you and helping you to discover the full potential of your powers.

But Bucky had never truly accepted you. He had never said anything outright to your face before today, but he had always maintained a certain amount of distance from you, wary eyes following you around like a hawk trying to catch it’s prey’s weakness.

You had ignored him the entire time.

You have enough to deal with as it was without a hundred-years-old grumpy super-soldier.

Running from the warehouse, right into the heart of the forest, you feel the sudden force of the blast behind you. Thrown right into a huge tree, you feel your breath leave right out your lungs. Groaning, you try to sit up, wincing when your back hurt like a bloody bit-

“Get up, get up, get up. The fire is going to spread.” You look at Bucky with blurry eyes. He is, as usual, frowning.

Groaning, you try to get up. You really do. But then you fall right back on your butt.

Pretty clearly annoyed, Bucky turns to look at the burning forest which is exactly a hundred feet from you both.

Cursing, Bucky picks you up and runs towards the Quinjet.

Grumpy or not, you think, you begrudgingly had to admit that you owed him your life from that day on.

You didn’t like it one bit.

——————————————————–

ii.

“You are somewhat tolerable, I suppose.”

“Gasp! Really?” You say, equal parts deadpan, sarcasm and amusement.

He rolls his eyes and looks at Nat who was grinning wide at the cake in front of her.

When asked about her birthday, she had never revealed it. You had no idea whether it was because she didn’t know or because she didn’t want you all to know.

But for whatever the reason, you had made up your to celebrate her birthday.

Everybody should celebrate their birthday. It’s the golden rule of life.

So you threw one all on your own on Winter Solstice, keeping it a secret from every Avenger knowing that their tongues were looser than the screws in their brain.

And from the happiness radiating out of everybody, you were kinda glad.

“Again, how did it go from ‘I don’t trust you’ to this in two months? Not that I’m complaining,” you quickly say, looking at him from your periphery. His eyes are still on the others, a lightness in them as he watches everybody laugh.

“I know that you are the one who did this.” Your eyes widen just a little at that. You didn’t think anybody noticed that.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, gulping slightly. You didn’t understand why Bucky knowing you were responsible for this party was mildly alarming.

“Please,” he snorts and turns to look at you. You do the same. You now have a full view of those jaws you always admired from a distance. “Disappearing for hours at off times, lying about where you have been, forgetting the sweet shop card on the table. Do you want any further evidence?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why would you think that I was lying about where I was going?”

“Doll, your heart goes all haywire and your heartbeat just doubles all the way up when you bluff. I can hear it from ten feet across the room.”

Flushed, you grip the edge of the counter you are leaning against. You refuse to give up.

“What if I lied because I was involved in some illicit, forbidden affair with some criminal whom I found absolutely enticing?”

The smirk spreading across his face was so shocking that you almost lose your balance. He leans forward until your breaths are almost mingling. His dark hair which had escaped from the small bun at the base of his neck frames his face almost beautifully, his enchanting blue eyes holding your gaze.

For the first time, you let yourself wholeheartedly acknowledge that he is indeed a beautiful man.

“Did you lie because you were involved in some illicit, forbidden affair with some criminal whom you found absolutely enticing?”

You cannot lie to him. Not now.

You gulp.

“No.”

His smirk turns into a wide grin and he backs away, leaving you shaky all over.

“Thought so. Now come on, we have a party to enjoy.”

You stare at his retreating back and curse him for making you feel this way.

Asshole.

It is from that day forward that conversations begin to occur between the two of you.

It starts off with simple things like greeting, then asking for small things across the counter, then you are discussing the latest releases and before you know it, you find yourself next to Bucky, lying on your back, staring at the night sky, tracing constellations.

“You know, you are basically looking at the future when you look at the skies?” you say. This moment, the very second, is beautiful and the most peaceful you have ever felt in your life.

“Yeah?” His hoarse voice is a melody in your ears, him next to you, a sight to behold.

“Uh huh. The light takes millions of years to reach from the stars. So essentially, you are looking at the way the star looked all those years ago. You don’t know it’s present or it’s future.”

You don’t feel silly for rambling. Bucky is one of the only people who doesn’t make you feel silly when you rant.

“Why do you know all that?”

“I wanted to be an astrophysicist,” You admit sheepishly. You don’t look at him when you say this.

It’s quiet for a few minutes. You don’t mind this kind of silence.

“You’d have made a great astrophysicist.”

Sometimes those words are all it takes.

You squeeze his metal hand and let your hand longer in his, fingers entwined.

He doesn’t let go either.

“Sometimes I feel that way too. Like I don’t know my present or my future.”

It’s your turn now.

“We’ll figure it out together.”

In the end, that’s all Bucky wants. You next to him, forever in the present and forever in the future.

——————————————————--

iii.

“Go on a date with me.”

Bucky Barnes doesn’t ask, he demands.

Your eyes widen and you turn from the comfortable spot you have occupied on the couch. The entire home theatre is dark except for the glow from the TV which makes all the hard angles on Bucky’s face appear almost sinful.

You are oh so ready to sin.

But his words catch you off-guard.

“What?” You sputter.

He shrugs and refuses to look at you. But the clench in his jaws and the slight bobbing of his Adam’s Apple gives away that maybe, maybe, he is nervous too.

“You heard me,” he rasps out.

“Buck, people usually ask others on a date, not demand,” you manage to say without your voice cracking although, deep down, your heart flutters uncontrollably and your gut is absolutely clenching.

It’s been six months since Nat’s birthday party and you can honestly say your relationship with him has improved a whole lot if both of you watching Mission Impossible together was any testament to it. The popcorn tub shared between you two and the bowl of M&Ms almost makes it feel like it is two people on a date.

“I thought this itself was a date,” you continue softly when he says nothing.

“With a bunch of baboons right outside the door?” Buck snorts. “Doll, you have such terrible standards for a date.”

You feel a bit bold. “I thought the person mattered. Not where.”

The movie long forgotten buzzes behind like a faint background. It’s just the two of you at the moment. Nobody else.

Something shifts in Bucky’s entire demeanor and suddenly you’re scared that you have overstepped.

But the next thing you know, you feel a pair of velvet lips right against yours, stealing your breath away. You gasp loudly letting Bucky slip his tongue in.

Then it’s just heaven.

Moaning, you grip his arms and scoot over to straddle him, giving both of you more access. His flesh palm cups your face oh so tenderly while the metal one rests at the small of your back. Your own hands move from his arms to tangle in his soft hair. On instinct, you tug it hard.

The groan you receive is what sin sounds like.

Breaking away you gasp and rest your forehead against his, breathing heavily.

“Ask nicely and I might just say yes,” you say, trailing your finger down the hard lines of his face.

The smile he gives you is the sweetest.

The kiss he gives you is sweeter than the sweetest.

Every day for the next week, there is a small letter with a single lily waiting right outside your room. Each day is a different, lamest possible puns.

By the end of the week, all the letters have a special section in your memory box and each lily is added to your vase.

You have never felt as lovely.

Quite obviously, Bucky Barnes managed to score a date.

——————————————————

iv.

“Goodness, I love you.”

Bucky grins after saying so, playing with your hair, twisting and twirling them.

The words catch you off guard. What’s more surprising is the way he tells it. Almost like it’s just a fact. A simple statement. A universal truth.

Like he doesn’t know what those words do to you.

You’re almost afraid that it isn’t true. So you just lean up from your pillow- his thighs- and kiss him, the wind blowing around you, carrying the fresh fragrance of flowers scattered across the garden.

You love it and you hate it.

The next time he says it is a few days later, moments after he comes inside you.

Both of you are gasping for breath, moaning and sticky with sweet and other bodily fluids. His mouth leaves kisses after kisses all over your neck, turning you absolutely crazy with need.

This time, you are scared that it’s just in the heat of the moment, the post-coital hormonal bliss drawing words from him he doesn’t mean.

You are terrified of such a thing happening.

So you just kiss the scars on his shoulder and shed few tears against his neck. He doesn’t react much to it other than tightening his grip around you. Crying sometimes after a particularly intimate love-making is normal for you since sometimes your heart cannot just handle the amount of love it holds for this man.

After initial times of panicking, he has gotten used to it and just comforts with sweet, sweet words.

You never want to let go.

“You’re never gonna feel that way?”

Another month and after another mind-blowing sex, both of you are lying side-by-side. Bucky is tracing his finger lightly down your bare back making you shiver.

“What?” you mumble, turning to look at him.

He tries to appear nonchalant, but you are now a master at reading him. Too much blinking means lying, clenching of jaw is fear and nervousness, playing with hair is anxiety, tugging on them is frustration, and your favorite, glaring at you when you tease him mercilessly, acting oh so coy.

Those days turn into some of the best nights.

“Love. Do you love me?”

His eyes now hold a bit of the vulnerability you sometimes ache to see. Not because you want him to suffer, but because sometimes you wish to know whether he trusts you and loves you as much as you do.

“Of course I love you, Buck,” You say, mind-clearing immediately, your hand immediately reaching out to him. You grab the metal one for a squeeze. You are terrified of admitting it, but the hopeful and vulnerable look on his face shatters everything within you.

He squeezes back.

“You never said it back.” It’s not an accusation, merely a statement. An observation.

It breaks your heart further.

So you admit.

“I was afraid you didn’t mean it,” you say in a quiet voice. “That you weren’t sure, or you would regret or take it back later.”

In one fluid motion, he is right on top of you, his arms on either side of your face, serene blue eyes looking at you, and only you, like they had finally found that lost treasure they had been searching for forever.

“My life until you had been filled with lies and uncertainty. There were just dark days and now and future dark days. If there has ever been anything that I’m sure of with my every being, It’s you.” He gives you a small peck. “You are my everything. My love, my sun, my moon, my stars, my everything. There’s nothing before or after you. Absolutely nothing.”

You stare at him with watery eyes and let out a strangled sob and clutch him tightly, bringing all the two-hundred-something -pounds of body right on top of you. But you don’t mind the weight. It feels like an anchor rather, stopping your mind from drifting away to far places of despair and never returning.

“I love you, Buck. So much that I never know how to say them.”

His smile against your neck is an answer enough.

——————————————————

“I trust you with my everything.”

It’s a particularly bad nightmare, startling him awake, scratching his throat and murderous eyes looking unfocused.

You come in rushing from your room next door at the sound of shouts which are filled with despair. When Bucky sleeps next to you, which happens for most days, he never has a nightmare. But today was your first day of the monthly cycle and you never are really comfortable sleeping next to anybody during this time.

Damn the days.

“Bucky, buck, please. Look at me. Please,” you cry out as you leap on to the bed, desperate to end this suffering for him. If there is anything that will just transfer all his pain to you, you will do so happily knowing that he’ll never suffer again.

For a startling second, the same murderous pair of blue eyes fall on you before softening and then immediately turning into that of horror.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he sobs, looking at you with fear. Not because of you, but for you. From himself.

“Buck, shhh. It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.” You slowly approach him, your palms gently lifted towards his face. Immediately, he leans forward closing his eyes, rubbing his face against your palm. Wet tears hit your skin and you can feel your heart tear apart at that.

You move in closer, and massage his head, trying to calm him down as much as possible. He lets out soft sighs and groans which encourages you to continue, your fingers increasing the pressure where required.

“Go to sleep Bucky, I’ll be right here,” you urge softly.

“I can’t,” he shakes his head, beautiful eyes holding pain beyond comprehension. “Those nightmares will ruin me.”

“Not with me here. I’ll stay right next to you. Do you trust me to do that?”

“I trust you with my everything,” he quietly replies. It warms your heart and you hug him tight.

“I’ll always be next to you. Always.”

It’s a promise and Bucky recognizes that. He hugs you back and rests his forehead against your shoulder, breathing becoming normal and slowly and wonderfully, he falls asleep. Just like that.

AND THAT’S A WRAP OKAY THANK YOU.

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #winter soldier #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #fluff #love #enemies to lovers #friendship #fem!reader #trust #soft!bucky #marvel #marvel fanfic #fanfiction

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 5 years ago

Text

Life After Snowpiercer: Whos Left?

Summary- 5.3k. Curtis x Y/N. Curtis takes Yona and Timmy towards the back of the train, finding unexpected survivors along the way. You are caught in a situation not so simple to escape from. Violence

a/n- The scenes involving gun fire, I cant claim to know exactly how they work, seeing as Ive never dealt with them, so details might be sketchy.

Chapter 5 / Masterlist

The group followed you, but hell if you knew where you were going, more and more people came out of the cars scattered around, equally in as much shock as you. Somewhere someone was wailing uncontrollably, there was still who knows how many guards in the car you all left, and right now the mix of people looking at You, of all people to tell them what to do. It was just overwhelming. Almost to much. You could feel your breathing rush in hurried huffs, and your senses starting to swarm.

Babygirl Breathe.

Curtis Its to much.

Think, you need to get them out of the cold first, Shelter. Pick the best car.

Okay....

“Alright everyone were not gonna last out here, and its gonna be dark soon.” Shadows were starting to stretch around you all, and the sky above you all was going from a bright blue hue to purplish and bits of stars were scattering around. When you looked up, it was still like out of a dream. When did you last gaze at stars? “Is there any car anyone knows of that might have food, blankets... anything?”

Everyone looked among one another, when someone you were least suspecting to see stepped forward, Paul, who had been taken from the tail end years ago cleared his throat. “That one on the end, its full of protein bars, the machinery is all broke, but that one and the one behind are still connected together when I came out, and it was abandoned before Curtis came through. Plenty of room for all of us.” You nod in agreement, and sure everyone stayed together, you all moved as a group. Falling back to where Paul brought up the rear, you walked beside him, silent for a bit.

“Paul... have you been in that car this whole time?” You did the math, it was five or six cars up if the old maps in Gilliams place were correct.

“Yea, it wasnt a bad gig” The man shrugged his shoulder. “Lonely, but I still got to see people a few times a day. They came to collect the bars, hand me the red letters.”

Your brows come together, the ones Curtis depended on. “Red letters, the ones giving us clues on how to break out?”

“Oh I dont know what they said, I was just told to place them in random bars and make sure they went out to the tail end.” Paul just stated as if it was common knowledge.

Fucking hell, this whole time it was a set up. The thought occurred to you, the weight of it was so heavy in your chest, you held back a sob. All those hours Curtis planned around the information sent. All of it just a set up. Why?

“How was Curtis when he went through?” Was he okay? How long ago was this? Must have been a couple days ago at least.

“He was fine Y/N, shocked to see me, and and pissed about the red letters, but hey, I do what Im told. Okay, this should be the one.” He broke away from you, and climbed up to the door, ducking inside. You glance over your shoulder, and your old car is barely in view, and you could see a few men standing near it, but unable to really tell if it the armed guards. Hopefully they are unable to get there shit together and try anything. Luckily you and the kids had a good amount of weapons collected before you bolted to the outside.

Paul called from inside “Y’all can come on in.” Sara limped up next to you, pressing a red rag to her shoulder, looking up. “I’m gonna need help this time” You nod and lope an arm around her waist, feeling her weight lean into you. “I got you this time Sara, were in this together.” The woman flashed you a grateful smile, and together you two wait for the crowd to disperse inside. Once it was just the two of you, you climb up first and reach back, taking her good arm, and as quickly as you were able, you help her up into the doorway, and together you two enter.

It was dim, but nothing like the tail end darkness, so your sight adjusts quickly, already people are huddling together, passing along protein bars, and mostly its quiet except for the occasional hushed whispers. The person wailing endlessly had since stopped in one of the many cars you all passed. Exhaustion and Shock kept you from searching them out. You should, guilt eats at you. But you turn away from the door for now, checking over the people instead. So far all the kids, including a few from the other cars all seemed fine. You knew Sara was bad off, and you found a few others with lacerations, bad bruises and concussions, and at least two who had a shoulder thrown out of joint. But the reports of those that couldn’t be helped was outstanding.

The one thing you were relieved to find was that no one seemed to be fighting. It was a mix of all sorts of factions, there were at least ten cars that dropped, and it ranged from you tail enders, a few from the prison section from what you could tell by there clothing, and a few “lower class” carts that were still much better off then you all were. But now everyone simply were together, there was no breaking of class. Hopefully it would just stay that way. All in all, there were about 30 of you crammed in as tight as possible to stay warm.

You moved back to the entrance and set on the edge, with the gun you had brought with you, keeping an eye on the landscape. Watching for any others to follow there trail, friend or foe. You roll up the collar of your coat you were wearing. It wasnt keeping you very warm, but better then nothing. Your eyes half closed hours later, and nodding off.

It was so damn cold...

I know it is baby, you should close your eyes.

Liar, thats just my mind playing tricks.

All you could hear was his agreeing laughter, yea you couldnt sleep.

“Miss?” A warm hand came to your face, the back of it touching your wind burned ruddy cheeks, making you gasp in surprise and jump slightly.

“Wh-at? Oh sorry... I must have nodded off.”

The man smiled, settling down in the doorway across from you, his jacket was slightly heavier, but still clouds of breath escaped him to glide into the night. “Its okay, you should let me take over for a while? I know we dont know each other, but its not on just you to watch. I can help any more that might arrive inside.”

You eye him, and he had warm eyes from what you can tell, god you wish you knew if you could trust him. “Im not just looking for more survivors. Our tail end was being held under guard. When we left, it was escaping them as well. Not many survived, but enough.”

“Yes, we saw the guards come through after the revolution passed through.” Another sign of Curtis, further up from Pauls car. You couldn’t help but smile hearing about him, fuck you missed him terribly. You hid your smile in your coat, finally it passed and you turned back to the man. “He is a stubborn man when he wants something. And he wanted us out of the tail end.”

“That he does, we had no cause to stand in there way, he passed us peacefully. Some of out people actually joined his cause. Its not as bad as your car, but we are tired of the imprisonment as well. My name is John by the way.” He held his hand out, and you unfolded yours from your sleeve, shaking his and gave your name as well. You werent going to give up your post, and he relaxed on the opposite side, apparently not willing to leave. You two were quiet for a time, when piercing through the night was the worst sound youve heard in a while. It kareened from the top of the cliff, a scream that echoed around the valley you were all stuck in.

It made you jump up, leaning out of the doorway to look up. And John did the same, cussing softly “Fuck what was that?” You shook your head.

“Nothing good.... “

During the time You were settling the survivors in the car, Curtis paused panting, it had long since grown dark out, following the light of the stars above them, it made the snow glow silver, stretching out in front of them. The train didn’t seem this long when he was fighting his way through the cars. Of course then it was adrenaline fueling him on. This time it was exhaustion. “Timmy, lets take a break buddy.” The boy on his back tightened his arms around Curtis neck, not wanting to let go, muttering sleepily in against his neck. “Okay... just swing around man.” Curtis coached him, and soon he had the boy slid around to his chest, stepping over to stand next to Yona, who was already curled up against the side of the train to get out of the wind. She needed more clothes, better clothes, fuck.

“Yona, take Timmy... “ Curtis pried the boys arms from around his neck, and she sleepily reached up to take the kid, drawing him into her. Curtis shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over them. Looking into the dark car they were huddling against, maybe there was some blankets in there. He heard rustling inside, but nothing more. Grabbing an outside bar, he pulled himself into the entrance to look inside He couldn’t make out anyone in the shadows, but that meant nothing. “I’m coming in, I don’t want any trouble.”

Hearing nothing more, he slid inside, it didnt look like he was going to have much luck. Nothing but bodies scattered around, and axes, the smell of blood, dried blood prominent. Shit, this was the car from the bridge. Thats when he saw that the tied prisoners he had left behind were killed to, deep ax cuts to there neck, squatting near one, he studied the man, drawing his own conclusions. They must have finished off the rest after he left. Breathing in deeply and rubbing a hand against his face. They had the right to after all the torture they had endured over the years, but part of him was still disappointed in the death. So much fucken death.

At least it was quicker then starving and shit, he thought.

Its still wrong Curtis, they were unarmed at this point.

Yea I know, but can you blame them. We were unarmed and starving in the tail end and they never gave a shit.

A touch of your hand and sigh, you just were so damn tired in his mind.

“Curtis?” a voice from the other end mentioned, and he pushed to a stand, brows furrowed at the noise, he swore he heard his name. “Hello?”

“Curtis! back here!” It was louder, more urgent. He recognized that voice, Tam from the back, she had come up behind them once the fighting was done, helping the injured. Curtis made his way over the scattered bodies and debris scattered around, and what did he find, fuck he found a small group of his people, helping one another up, and others laying out side by side, ones that had injuries, preventing them from moving to much. Tam moved to grasp Curtis pulling him into an affectionate hug “Damn are we glad to see you! We lost most everyone Curtis, were all thats left. They came back through and pinned us down, claimed 74 percent of us were to be killed.” The tears streamed down her face freely, as she released him and pulled back. “they were about to march us back when the train, I’m guessing went off the track? It caught them unaware enough we were able to fight back. There wasn’t many.... but we just didn’t know what to do, what was ahead, if you, Tonya, Nam... the rest were still alive?”

Curtis shook his head, swallowing down the sorrow. “No, they didn’t make it. Its just me, Yona, and I was able to get Timmy back. Not Andy, I never saw him.”

Tams head hung for the loss of there friends, and Curtis turned his attention back to the door. “I got to go get Yona and Timmy, now that I know its you all, we we will stay here. Tomorrow those that can, we are going to see about whats left of the tail end. I was told they went over a cliff... but I have to know.”

Tam nodded, as well as a few others that came to join in the conversation, Curtis questioned. “No ones seen Y/N, have they?” Maybe you didn’t listen, he could hope.

“No, she stayed in the back with the kids.... just like you told her she had to.” They had all seen you drag her back into Gilliams quarters just before it all started. Curtis sighed to himself, not his finest moment thinking back on it. It tore him to think now how you two left things. How you might not be....

STOP IT! You cant think that way.

I shouldn’t have done that babygirl, left you in anger.

No WE shouldn’t, we will fix this, go get the kids now.

Turning away from the group, he made his way back, and looking out the door, he saw his two charges still under his jacket, hiding away. “Timmy, Yona, lets get inside, its safe.” Yona first poked her head out from there little hideaway, and pushed Timmy into a stand, the two of them making there way to the entrance. Reaching down, Curtis grasped Timmys arm and hauled him up the side, pulling him in “Go all the way to the back, Tam and them are up there.” The boy nodded and started to head towards the back, Curtis leaned down and took a wrapped Yoda by the arm, and she was slightly heavier, grunting with the effort and pain lacing his ribs as she scrambled best she could up the side, landing with a oof when she fell in. “Sorry Yona” He apologized while she brushed herself off and made to take off his coat to return it. “ no you hang onto it for now. I will take it back tomorrow morning. Maybe they have something back there you can use before we head out.”

“But your gonna freeze Curtis” Her head tilted, studying him. He dismissed it with a shake of his head and together they headed back to the group. Tam was kneeling next to Timmy, cupping his face and studying some of the bruises on his face. The boy was starting to come out of the trance state Curtis first found him in, talking more. He had yet to ask about his mother, and Curtis figured right now it would be to much to have that discussion, Not yet anyways. If he wasn’t asking, Curtis was content to let it just stay silent till they were all in a better place.

“Our wounded, how bad are they?” Curtis asked another as he headed over to see whom was over there, it wasn’t your, or the it was Our, they were a group again, looking out for one another best they could. There looked like five or six, some perfectly silent, another one was groaning in his sleep. Tam came over, her arms folded around her “Bad, I don’t know if they will all make it. What I wouldn’t give for Y/N to be here, at least we would have some direction in what to do” Curtis clenched his jaw hearing this.

Fuck I wish you were here to baby. He sighed inwardly, what he wouldn’t give to hear you tell him it would be okay.

“The one i’m most worried about is Edgar, the wound is deep, and it took a while for the wound to clot. I mean hes conscious...”

“Wait! Edgars alive?!” Curtis scanned over the covered people again, looking for anyone familiar.

“Yea, hes that one up at the end, wait... you didn’t know Curtis?” Tam followed along behind and Curtis made his way over, and sure enough, Edgar was fast asleep, pale as hell, but damn it the kid was alive. “No, we left in such a hurry after the bridge...” He rushed his words to Tam, just in shock. Curtis collapsed to his knees next to him, relief just washing over him. “Fuck man its good to see you” He whispered, and beside him Edgar groaned and opened his eyes.

“Yea man, its good to see you to.”

What happened hung in the air, but left unsaid for now, Curtis knew he had yet another apology to make, another mistake. Edgar went to sit up and Tam immediately put a stop to that.

“You lay your ass back down Edgar. You lost to much blood to be moving around any, and that wound reopens, no telling if we can get it to stop.” With a roll of his eyes he fell back to lay still. Curtis looked questioning up at Tam.

“The knife missed the spine and vitals, but its deep enough to leave a gaping hole. It needs to be sewed up, or cauterized. But we just don’t have the materials.” Edgar raised enough to lean on his elbow.

“Well someone should go looking for that shite, right?” Curtis was relieved to hear that accent of his once more, never thought he would hear it again. “I cant be laying up here the whole damn time.”

It occurred to Curtis that maybe they could do one. “Yona... Yona, has my jacket. Nam gave me a smoke just before, theres some matches in the pocket.” Tam hurried over to where Yona was sleeping, searching in the pockets of his jacket. Rewarded when she pulled out the old half disintegrated book of matches, and miraculously they were still dry. Curtis started looking around for things to burn, searching the deads pockets for anything flammable. Finally having an plan in place, meant he could at least fix part of something.

Having enough materials gathered, Curtis collected one of the Axes, cleaning off the dried blood caking the edge. He hoped the fire would burn off any other debris to keep from infecting Edgar. Tam worked on getting the fire hot, and Edgar laid on his stomach, watching the flames. Curtis eyes would glance up once in a while to catch his expression. Clouded, unsure if it was from pain, or remembering how Curtis how turned away when Masons men had the knife to his throat. Curtis couldn’t forget it, He shouldn’t have left him.

“Edgar I---”

“Stop man, were not doing this. Not now, not ever.” Edgar glared at him to shut him up, and Curtis closed his mouth, running the rag once more over the blades edge, there was a tiny spot, he swore he could see it although the axe gleamed spotless.

Moments later, Tam blew lightly on the fire, and it went from hot reddish orange to white hot laces of blue. “I think this is as hot as were gonna get it Curtis, put the blade in.” She sat back, and rested her hands on her knee. “Edgar, your ready for this?”

“As ready as I’m gonna be” He winced a bit and settled in. Giving the axe time to heat, the trio remained silent, all till there was a slight smolder rising from the head pushed in the coals. “Bite on this” Tam informed, holding out a cloth. Reluctantly, cause damn this was gonna hurt like a bitch, Edgar wedged it in his mouth, nodding.

Curtis moved to hes shoulders, his uninjured arm pressing on either side of his shoulder blades. Putting his weight behind it, he was sure Edgar would thrash, and it was vital to keep him as still as possible. He felt the man drawing in deep breaths and surprisingly he seemed relaxed under his hold, calm. Tam moved in close to Edgars side, lifting the handle of the ax and drawing it out of the fire. They had seconds to sear it shut, having the metal hot enough to scar him closed. Curtis gave a curt, ‘Im ready’ nod, and Tam laid the broad side of the axe right over the wound.

It was a hiss at first, the scent of burning flesh rising almost immediately, and Edgar tensed rigidly, trying to push away and the noise. The noise was probably the hardest part to deal with. Not the smell, not feeling Edgar try to escape pain. It rose so sharply, that Edgar lost what he was biting on, and it just seemed magnified from where they were in the hollowed car. Curtis almost lost his hold on him, having to dig in his heel and lean fully into him. “Come on Edgar, its gonna be okay, were almost done”

His words had no meaning, and finally after a bit, Edgar just collapsed under him, Tam yanked the axe away, and Curtis broke into a sob, dropping his forehead to lean against the passed out Edgars head. “Fuck, I’m so sorry... “ his voice dragged out. Edgar was like his brother, this on top of everything else just fuck was tearing him. After a few moments to calm himself down, Curtis leaned over to check that he was breathing fine. Thank fuck he passed out, Curtis could hear your worry edging your voice. The wound, make sure its sealed Curtis....

His hand slid down Edgars back, and deep redness had settled in, around the cut it was black, a few shallow boils forming, but all in all, the hole was shut. “I think we got it Tam” He said as released his hold on Edgar and Tam as careful as could be dragged the blanket up to where the wound was still red hot, not daring to put anything on it.

“What do you wanna do next Curtis?” Tam moved over to sit next to him, drawing her legs up and staring into the fire that was loosing its drive to burn, having scored most of the material into ash at this point. Curtis nudged some of it with his boot, shifting the coals. Already he was falling into that leader roll, he could sense others were listening into there conversation, waiting to see what he would say.

I wonder how they would feel if they knew I caused the train to derail.

No different babes, now were not prisoners anymore, were actually free to make our own choices for our future.

“Going to check on the end cars like my original plan was. There is probably survivors and we have to check on our people, if they survived, there might be some that need help with injuries. Then back towards the front, theres food up there, the cars up there are in better shape.”

“What about the front enders?” Tam questioned, and Curtis looked at her with a shrug.

“They either accept us, or we will push them out. Thats been the goal this whole time, and I’m not stopping now.” So matter of fact, Tam went silent, and together they waited till morning to come seeping in, a new day, a new way of life.

You were watching the beginning of your first sunrise, and you couldn’t help the tears that yet again got caught in your lashes. There are different kinds, and in the past few days you shed them all. Grief, pain, fear... but these felt different, rewarding. There salty drops fell on your lips and a flick of the tongue collected them before you brushed them away. John stretched and with a pop of his arms over his head, he moved to a stand. “I’ve seen many of these over the years... “ You look up in surprise, then consider, well maybe his section had windows. “... But this is the best damn sunset i’ve seen.”

“Its the first one I’ve seen in seventeen years” You remarked, blinking against the light bouncing off the ice and snow. “And I have to say its more beautiful then I remember it being.”

I wish you could see this Handsome, a wistful tone in your thoughts.

I am baby, almost the best thing I’ve ever seen.... almost.

Love you to Curtis.

While you were admiring the arrival of light, a flash out of the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you tilt your head to the side to see what it was. Mistake.... as you found out when a sharp whizz blew over your head and bounced off the metal with a loud ping and sparks flew, both you and John tumbling back with wide eyed gasps. “What the fuck!” he exclaimed and you scramble low to rest the weapon you stole from them the day before out the entrance of the car.

“Remember how I told you we were being held under guard? Well... I might have stabbed one in the eye just before the train derailed. They want us back for other things as well.”

“Do you even know how to use that Y/N?” John asked as he to ducked out of line of sight, staying further hidden then you.

“No, but I can give an educated guess. How about you see if there is someone back there who does?” You use the scope to look, they were still a distance off, and with luck John would be back sooner with someone who knew how to use one of these thing. So far nothing more has been fired, since you no longer made yourself a target, but you tried to study them, count how many there were. So far give made up the line, but who knows, some might be on the other side of the train, holding back... You scanned away from the edge, across the landscape, but that didn’t hold anything worth noticing. Maybe, just maybe there were only five left. Five fully trained to use there weapons men. FUCK.

“Hey, found someone!” John exclaimed and a petite woman slid up beside you, glancing over the edge. “These bastards wanna play fire with fire? Lets give them some back.” Well damn, you hand it over immediately as she made herself comfortable. “Johanna by the way, nice to meet you Y/N” she caught you by surprise knowing your name, and she smirked. “Hey I was a few car up from John, weve all heard of you tail enders and your revolution. About fucken time.” She peered into the scope and flipped off the safety. Seeming to take measure of where she was aiming, Johnana proved patient. John had long sense disappeared back among the group to gather more bullets, hopefully they had enough to keep this new threat back.

It was so sudden, her finger was resting on the trigger, and then a couple shots went off, she barely flinched at the moment, but you cringed with them both. A curse muttered from her lips as she pulled back “They are sticking pretty close to the train, hard to get a shot off at this side angle, but they are now at least aware were not defenseless.”

Curtis shook his head at Yona, who stood defiant before him, her arms crossed over her chest and head tilted to the side. “Your not going, thats that. Stay here and help look after the others.”

“That is foolish, I can help.” She pushed, trying her hardest to convince him. “My dad... he might be out there.” A softer tone making her look down, trying to also convince herself that maybe, just maybe he survived. Curtis squatted down closer to her level, his hands cupping her face to make her look at him.

“Yona, I swear if hes alive, I will bring him back, okay? After everything he did for us, you have my word. I really need you here, Timmy trusts you more then these others, and Edgar needs to be taken cared of. Please, can you do this for me?”

This seemed ot appease the young woman, who gave a nod relenting and once they both agreed to these terms, she went to Edgars side, kneeling beside him and touching his forehead. The man was still asleep, and Curtis hoped it wasnt a sign of any kind of fever, although Tam remained nearby constantly hovering. His back was still an angry red, but it wasn’t as intense feeling of heat rolling from the wound, so that was something.

Gathering others to join him, they all worked there way out of the train. Mostly they had axes shared among them, there were a few discarded rifles from the earlier battle at the bridge, in which Curtis himself collected one, slinging it around to hang off his back. They went in a single file, the few of them that joined, and every car they came to, they checked for survivors. After the brutal cold night, they weren’t successful in find any stragglers. Before they even got to the cliffs edge, a noise was brought to them. Sounds like... gunshots. The whole group looked at one another and sped up, pushing through the snow as fast as they could break through it. Once they reached the cliff, they looked down to see what the hell was going on.

The cars below were scattered around, some on there sides, some had still somehow remained upright, but it was a mess, there old car, the tail end was on its side, dented and half split at the seam. It must have hit the hardest the way it was bounced away from the others, sure its momentum had dragged the rest down with it.. From what Curtis could see, the survivors were pinned in one car, the one that seemed to still be upright, by the cliff face. Those outside of the car, Wilfords men, the ones Wilford issued the kill orders to. Shots were exchanged with from a group of men pressing along another car for coverage. But a scan of showed others coming up the backside. Shit... He was sure none of them had any idea there was more then what those that was shooting at them.

Curtis swung the weapon he carried around, and took aim best he could. There was no telling at this distance and his general inexperience if he was close to any of the targets, the couple others that also had the same advantage took up sentry on each side of him. Picking a target, Curtis took a breath and steadied himself till his sight wasn’t shaking. A breath out, and he pulled that trigger. The resounding BOOM flooded the valley, snow spitting up feet from the man. He missed but the guy stumbled back and raced around the corner of the car. Curtis other companions also fired at around the same time. And one aimed just so, the guard falling back with a burst of red scattering across the snow. Direct kill shot.

Surprised at now being shot above, the rest scrambled away, heading away from the cliff face and using the demolished cars for cover, they soon were out of sight for the time being. Curtis swung the rifle in a sweeping motion, checking before going to the pinned car, and studying it for movement.

Thats when he caught a glimpse. It was not even a second, and Curtis could only guess that it was actually You, but it was enough for his chest to tighten painfully, and all those other things just narrow into one single thought.

YOU WERE ALIVE.

@curtisbbq @what-is-your-plan-today @p8tn0lish @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

@jtargaryen18 @thatweirdwalangpake @official-and-unstable-satan

#snowpiercer #curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x y/n #chris evans #trauma #violence

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wastelandgoat · 6 years ago

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The Courier

[Authors Note] First of the ‘Goats’ i was ever able to collect solid information on, the first i was able to radio in and speak to. He special to my Research and his story still goes. Sadly I say I am bit late getting his information into the system, but it was a bit hard to find time to do it ever since the Prisoner showed up. My hypothesis leads me to believe some big things will become of their development. [End of Note]

The Courier, a once happy hard working Mailman delivering around the Nevada area.

Claims to have grown up on a secluded farm house in the waste with his parents until he had to leave home to find a job for himself. with a stroke up luck took on the mail man Job and the title of Courier 6. happy to help and get the job done.

He changed after the events at Goodsprings. Bad luck brought the platinum chip and what might as well have been a big red X drawn onto the Couriers back.

Entering the Mojave from the west, Six was ambushed and chased through the desert by the Tribe known as The Geckos and their leader Benny who seeked what the Courier unknowingly possessed.

The events led to an epic fight in the night, only the people of good springs could have heard the gunfire over the cooled empty desert, and no one could have prepared the traveler to the land he would traverse to escape the Geckos.

In the escape Six entered the Goodspring area and fell right into town. in the dead of night he fell from a cliff and depending on who you asked, could say he was lucky to have survived.

having broken his leg and nearly torn his face off in the tumble, he was then dragged up the hill to the Goodspring Graveyard where the Geckos would shoot the Mailmain, take his package and bury him.

The only thing to have saved his life that night was a Mechanized savior sent by the devil and a doctor stationed in the town.

He was awoken days later, his right eye hardly able to open, his leg still unusable, and his face full of stitches.

He was broken. Could almost be called mute during his months in Goodspring, he stayed to heal and kept to himself. only giving his trust to the Doctor of Goodspring and only a few words given to others when he needed to speak.

When he was told he was fully recovered the left for the empty lands before them. He wanted to be alone and far away from the place where everything went so wrong.

He survived alone for a awhile, but being alone can only last so long. His travels took him to the old NCR correction facility. Gaining the trust of the Powder Gangers he set up his home in the safety of their buildings, eating the free food and fighting off the NCR who would come to try and reclaim the building.

The Courier, now having changed his look, his hair and name, a new man, a stranger to himself. He didnt care for ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, supposes he knew the Powder Gangers were in the wrong but he couldn’t care, he was safe and had a place to sleep at night and no one gave a shit about who he was.

Hardly even two months of living in the facility Goat was evicted, a larger group of NCR soliders, more than they'd ever dealt with before arrived. everyone was slaughtered if they were to stand their ground. Only those who ran lived, and Goat ran for his life.

He ran all the way to Novac, where he once again tried to make a home. living in Novac was somehow different, Goat starts talking to his neighbors and helping people who needed it. he was warming up and even felt like a part of his past returning to him.

However, not a man to keep a home long Goat soon took off, with only a half hearten promise of return. This venture came when he overheard a group of merchants traveling through town mention the Geckos, how they seemed to be cooking something up and if you were smart you'd move yourself out of the strip and freeside.

Goat knew his target and set out into the desert.

he began to help people along the way, small things usually with stomping out invasive animals on peoples homes or fixing their water structures or electricity when it was broken.

he travel far to be reunited with the man who ruined his life.

He arrived in Freeside. he didnt pay much attention to anyone but the ones who were begging for attention. The Kings, big flashy lights and big attitudes. once Goat entered Freeside they all wanted to know his game.

[Authors Note: by my guesses my theories on the ‘Goat Myth’ have reached far, and it seemed by this post a good bit of the Mojave knew The Courier before ever even seeing him]

Goat, surprisingly took to The Kings, maybe he liked that sense of being in a gang he had once been used to, maybe it was the welcoming vibe the King himself gave off. The Kings became like his family. Goat and the King were close. The King trusted Goat with his dog and important work that were integral to helping Freeside. the two shared much together, their secrets, alone time and hopes for New Vegas. However, Goat claimed that, even if it wasn't ever said they both knew no matter what they wanted of New Vegas their journeys where destined to fall apart and that Goat simply enjoyed the time he would have with The Kings until they knew it would end.

In Goats work to improve Freeside under the lead of the Kings, he managed to finally get a way into The Strip. Ignoring all distractions he headed straight for Benny.

When the two met Goat, while still angry with what happened months ago, gave a moment of forgiveness. He heard out Benny and knew what he spoke about House to be true. Though He still have great fury for what Benny had done, he agreed to help him, to make a deal to take out House together.

But Benny only once again turn the tables again Goat and ran off with the Chip.

Goat would spend over a week none stop locating and chasing down Benny. Listening to no one else he was filled with anger, a want for revenge and once again filled with a feelings of being broken. The Courier and Benny’s journey led all the way to Legion. Goat didn't know much about the Legion beyond the bad stories he heard, but to Goat none of it mattered. He had Benny Cornered. Goat Agreed to the Legions terms to fight Benny in an arena for show, and when Benny was done for he was then crucified. [Authors Note: Goat never openly shared it with me, but i believe he felt potential remorse over their story ending this way]

Goat returned to The King, Spoke of what he had done. Goat didn't share further on his week after the events with me.

He did tell that after this time of recovery The King asked him something of a great task. He asked Goat, with the chip, the trust of House still in his hands the stars aligning in everyone favor, to take out House and restore New Vegas to a better Future.

Goat speaks that, if it had been him months ago before he was shot, or even right before the moment Benny broke his trust and sense of judgement again maybe just maybe he would have told the King, Yes.

But he said no.

This was the dived they both knew would come. Both wanted great things for the future of Freeside and all good people, But Goat no longer trusted himself to make any decisions or to lead people.

Goat left that night, claims no one was to ever see him again in the Mojave. The platinum Chip left in the hands of the King, and the faith people felt in the Pressence of the man spoken in legends taken.

everyone believed the Courier was dead, but in the five years before The Prisoner would arrive the King insisted he lived. almost like a special secret he got to happily share when anyone would claim death befell the Courier who turn his back on them.

Few knew where the Courier went that night.

[Authors Note: from the bits and pieces of information iv received on the subject Goat was last scene head toward the Nipton Drive in Movie on a late night]

#Fallout #fallout new vegas #courier six #courier 6 #the courier #fallout ocs #Goat 1 #rex #ed-e #lily #roxie

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literarytrashcollection · 6 years ago

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Where Are Any of Us Going? (Part 7/?): Alone

(Bucky x Reader)

I spent the next two weeks going through tests with the Science Bros, hypothetical options to actually surgically remove my arms, to cut through my bones, the get through the surgery without me, ya know, exploding.

When I wasn’t in the lab, I spent time with Bucky. I made him watch hundreds of hours of movies with me, took him to my favorite restaurants, even brought him to school one day. No one paid attention that day, their eyes constantly wandering back to the deadliest assassin in the world sitting next to me.

That was the day I realized that I wouldn’t be able to attend on campus anymore. I went to admin and got transferred to the online program. When Tony heard, he made sure I had access to any information I needed for my studies. Him and Bruce were also fantastic resources for information when I didn’t understand a concept in my math and science classes.

I paused the lecture on my laptop and walked over to the door, interrupting the insistent knocking. Bucky stood there, dressed in his tactical gear, a small frown on his face.

“What’s up?” I stepped back and he sat on the edge of my bed. He didn’t speak for a long moment. “Bucky?” I sat on my knees on the floor in front of him.

“I have to go.”

“Go where?”

He waved it off, “A mission.”

“For how long?”

“Couple weeks.” He mumbled, fiddling with one of the holster straps on his thigh. “Tony said that they would have you fixed by the time I’m back.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” I asked and caught his hands in mine, resting my chin on his knee.

He shrugged. “I wanted to be here.”

“You still have to do your job, hon,” I murmured. He nodded, but he still looked sad. I stood up and sat in his lap, hugging him tightly. “Call me when you can. I’m just gonna sit here and do my homework and heal.”

“Steve’s staying, so if you need anything, please ask him.” He rested his cheek against my shoulder.

“Are you going alone?”

He shook his head. “Nat’s coming.”

“Good,” I nodded, running my fingers through his hair. “I know she’ll take care of you.”

He took a deep breath and sighed. “Don’t mention this to anyone else, but I think Tony is gonna make some calls and get clearance to start training you, once you’re healed. He wants to make you an Avenger.”

“You don’t sound thrilled.” I commented, tugging on the little growth of beard that had been growing for a while.

He huffed. “Of course I’m not.” I arched an eyebrow, waiting. “You’re my girl! Why would I want you to be trained and sent on missions that you could die on?!”

I stroked his face. “Baby, who said I was going to say ‘yes’?”

He froze. “Would you? Say ‘yes’?”

I snorted. “God no. I don’t need that responsibility. Besides,” I shifted in his lap so I could see him better, “someone’s gotta be here for you to come back to.”

He pressed his lips together hard and looked away, rubbing my leg absently. “I guess I didn’t think of that.”

“You’re right. Stop worrying. Go do your mission. I’ll be here when you get back. No more explosives in my head. Brand-y new arms.” I wiggled my fingers.

He wrapped his arms around me tightly, rocking us side to side for a moment. He buried his face in my neck, pressing little kisses in the crux of my neck and shoulder.

Steve stood with me while Bucky and Nat boarded the helicopter. The blades started up and Steve guided me back a little so I couldn’t get too wind swept. Nat guided the helicopter off the pad and I stood there watching it until I couldn’t see it anymore.

“Come on, Bruce said your surgical team should be here. They want to get your prepped.” Steve offered me his arm and I slid mine through it. “Are you scared?”

“I’ll either wake up with new arms or it will very suddenly not matter anymore.” I shrugged.

Steve looked taken aback, screeching to a halt to stare at me. “Do you really think that’s what it’s going to be?”

“Of course not, Steve,” I sighed. “But the more I distance myself from it, the easier this will be.”

He eyed me again carefully, then started walking again.

“You’ll be there when I wake up though, right?”

He nodded, patting the hand I had on his arm. “I think Bucky would kill me if I wasn’t.” He smiled a little.

He took me to the medical bay. Assistants and surgeons were preparing. Tony and Bruce stood to the side, whispering to each other. Bruce waved me over. Steve let go of me, staying just outside the makeshift OR, offering me a reassuring smile and a wave as I walked through.

“Y/N, this,” Bruce waved at one of the scrub-wearing surgeons walking around, “is Doctor Kahlid. She’ll be in charge of everything going on today.”

“Pleasure,” the doctor smiled at me. I shook her hand and watched for a moment as she continued to direct the medical team in their preparations.

“So, you’ve seen the vibranium scalpels we’re going to have to use. And the bone saw that we’re going to use to remove your shoulders,” Tony said, gesturing to the equipment set out for the procedure. “We’ll knock you out, JARVIS will monitor all your vitals and help guide Dr. Kahlid to ensure that we don’t explode you.” He nodded, taking a deep breath. “Questions?”

I knew the procedure. Bruce and Tony had gone over it with me a hundred times in the last two weeks, but that didn’t mean I was any less queasy. My stomach was in knots and my ears were ringing and I had cold sweat dripping down my back and pooling in my armpits.

“How soon can we get this over with?” I asked. Bruce chuckled a little and led me into a room so I could scrub up. Once I was prepared, I was laid out on the operating table and they started marking the cut lines, doing their final sterilizations, the works.

A mask was fitted over my nose and mouth, gas pouring in.

“Count back from one hundred for me, sweetie,” the anesthesiologist told me.

One hundred.

I could see Steve standing with Bruce and Tony. They were all talking, but I couldn’t hear them through the glass that separated the OR from the observation room.

Ninety-nine.

I tried to keep my eyes open. As much as I wanted to support Bucky and his job, I never wished more that he was just a normal guy, so he could be there with me.

Ninety-eight.

I watched another pair of scrubs cut into my leg and insert and IV. I didn’t feel it though, which was nice. My vision was starting to get fuzzy around the edges.

Ninety-seven.

I looked towards Steve again, desperately searching for reassurance, but I couldn’t find him. I could faintly hear the beeping from the heart rate monitor pick up in pace. My breathing was loud inside the mask as hyperventilation started.

Ninety—

“Who the fuck is listening to Marvin Gaye?” I grunted. My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton and my eyes seemed to be glued shut.

“Language,” Steve said absently. It was silent again for a moment, then I heard the distinct sound of paper rubbing against itself. “And I like Marvin Gaye, thank you.”

I scrubbed at my eyes, finally peeling them open in time to see Steve get up and pour a glass of water from a pitcher on my bedside table. I was in my room. Why was I in my room?

I sat up quickly, ready to dart away if I needed to. “Steve?”

“Relax,” he handed me the glass of water and sat on the edge of my bed. “Surgery went great. They got the receptor out of your head first and Tony and Bruce are studying it right now. And your old arms. Everything’s attached and functioning. They just said be careful with the surgery site for a while because your skin isn’t fully healed yet. No heavy lifting, nothing more than a hundred or two pounds.”

“A hundred or two?”

“Tony said that in the final trails, he hooked them up to a robot and they held up eight hundred, no problem.”

I leaned back against the headboard, taking a drink of my water. “I was freaking out. The laughing gas scared me. I couldn’t find you and I really wanted Bucky—”

“I know, Y/N. You started thrashing. Tony and I had to hold you still until they could finish knocking you out. Your heart rate hit one-fifty. They were worried you were having some kind of adverse reaction to the gas or the anesthetic.” A battered copy of one of the Star Wars books was in his hand, but I could see bruises and scratches around his wrists.

“Did I do that to you?”

He looked down at the healing wounds. “You did,” he nodded, lips pressed together hard. “Tony was trying to hold your legs still, you fractured his elbow.”

“No,” I whined, rubbing my face.

Then it dawned on me.

I held my hands out, looking at them. “Why are they still black?”

“They haven’t activated the color match yet. They wanted to make sure everything worked and all of that before they started turning on all of the bells and whistles.”

My arms looked a lot like Bucky’s metal one, the slats moving fluidly as I turned my arms this way and that. Without asking, I reached out and touched Steve’s arm. My old arms had always been fairly receptive, I could always tell when things were warm or cold and all of that, but this was different. They felt real. It was like having the sensitivity turned up to eleven, after sitting at a solid six for a few years.

“Careful, you don’t know your own strength yet,” Steve said, flinching back a little. As much as part of me—deep in the back of my head—felt bad, I was admiring the fact that the feeling of his warm skin under my fingers felt so nice. “I already called Buck, let him know how everything went. I think he wants to hear from you though.”

I nodded, running my fingers over the blankets, my hair, anything and everything I could get my hands on.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked when I got up and started touching more things.

I turned and looked at him. “I haven’t been able to feel like this since I woke up with my bionic arms. I’m… I’ve never been happier.”

A smile grew across his face and he nodded, looking back down at his book for a second. “You should probably go tell Tony that, he’ll want to know that his suffering wasn’t for nothing.” I was about to run out the door when he caught me by the hospital gown. “After you put clothes on. I don’t think Bucky wants you running around with your… rear… hanging out.”

My heart fell through the floor and I quickly turned to hide myself from him, but he was already turned the other way. I quickly dressed, tripping a few times over my own excitement. Each time I stumbled, Steve would turn to try and help only to realize that I still wasn’t dressed and quickly look away again. At least he was a gentleman.

Once dressed, I grabbed the door, turning the knob in my hands and ripped the whole mechanism out of the door. My mouth involuntarily formed a little ‘O’ and I turned, showing it to Steve. “Oops,”

He sighed and opened the door for me, watched while I all but skipped down the hall to the elevator. JARVIS took us to Tony, who was in the kitchen. His left arm was in a sling and a tinge of guilt washed over me.

Instead of saying anything (because what would I really say?) I just hugged him, throwing my arms around his neck and squeezing.

“Y/N, gently,” Steve called when Tony started wheezing a little. I stepped back, holding my hands behind my back.

“I take it you like your new arms?” Tony asked, brushing himself off a little. I nodded, grinning at him. I didn’t think I would ever stop grinning, my face already hurt from it all. “Sensitivity at a good level, full function?”

I nodded again.

“Good. Now we can actually put you to work.”

“Doctor said she had to wait at least three weeks.” Steve interrupted.

Tony waved it off. “I don’t mean send her out yet,”

“Stark,” Steve’s voice was wary.

Tony took a deep breath. “Y/N, once you’re completely healed, we would like to train you to be an Avenger.”

I looked between Steve and Tony. I already knew my answer, but I wanted to see how they felt about it. Steve’s face was a mask, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he waited, and Tony looked… maybe not hopeful, but there was definitely something there.

“Respectfully,” I glanced between them both again, “I can’t.”

Steve’s shoulders seemed to loosen a little and he took a deep breath, whether out of relief or disappointment was still to be seen. Tony looked hurt though, and for a minute I felt awful. He’d just given me brand new arms and the one time he asks me for something in return, I shoot him down.

“I’ll work for you guys, here in the tower or whatever. But I’m just not… I’m not that person. I can’t go out there and potentially kill people for a living. I know, I’d be helping protect the world, but there are ways to do that without the spotlight.”

Steve was fighting a smile, his hand coming down on my shoulder with a squeeze that helped me solidify my decision. Tony had masked his disappointment and nodded, a short, curt, jerky motion.

“We’ll see what we can find for you here.” He quickly turned away from me, rummaging in the fridge for a bottle of creamer.

We went and saw Bruce next. He was definitely more excited that I was happy with the arms. He had me do a few tests, strength, dexterity, sensitivity, the whole nine. Then he turned the color match on and in a wave that washed from the middle of my shoulders, down to my fingertips, the sleek black turned into my usual skin color. I studied my hands for a moment, then looked at Bruce again.

“Can you turn the color match off? I kind of liked them.”

He eyed me for a moment, then nodded. He showed me the control panel in my left forearm and how I could turn the sensitivity down or up, turn the color match off and on, release the arms from the docking station built into my new shoulders.

He pulled up a scan on his work bench and showed me the extent of the new hardware in my body. A strip of metal helped to cover the wiring that trailed up into my head, then attached to the shoulder docks.

“Hey,” I smiled at Bucky’s image on my laptop screen. Instead of going back to my room, I went to his. He waved a little and looked down at the keyboard in front of him, quickly typing something out.

Can’t talk out loud.

Oh, sorry, I smiled and sent the message. His lips turned up a little at the edges and I watched his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath.

How are you feeling?

I shrugged. The numbing wore off. It’s more of a dull ache now, down to my bones.

He nodded and shifted in his seat. Steve said you did really good though, and you’re really happy.

Yeah. I broke Tony’s elbow.

He grinned, He probably deserved it. I shook my head, glaring at him. No, you’re right. Why’re you in my room?

I missed you. Figured this is the closest I could be until you get back.

His smile was sad and he took another deep breath. I love you.

I love you too. I replied. When they were knocking me out, all I wanted was for you to be there.

I know, doll. I’ve gotta go. We’ve gotta get into position, we’re staking out tonight. I’ll call you when I can, okay?

I nodded and waved a little. He glanced around, I think looking to see if Nat was looking, then blew me a kiss and disconnected.

I stared at my blank screen for a while before shutting the laptop and flopping back on the bed.

I went up to the rooftop observation deck and leaned against the railing, watching the city move down on the ground.

I thought about everything I’d learned since coming to the tower, all of the things that had been done to me. We’d made the first step, I had new arms and no more radio/bombs in my head. Step two was to take down the guys who had done this to me, and so many others.

Everything had been quiet after the charity event. No one stepped out to claim the work as their own, no one had tried to come take care of me. Whoever it was, was back in hiding. But Tony and Bruce had the receiver and they were doing their best to trace it back to the owner.

Then I thought about Bucky. It’d been less than three weeks with him and I was already so wrapped around his finger. Not that it wasn’t mutual. I think he was just as wrapped up in me as I was him.

“From my experience, the experiments get tiring,” called a soft female voice behind me. I turned and stood up a little straighter when Pepper made her way to stand next to me. “Tony told me you needed an assignment, ground work.”

I nodded.

“I have just the job for you.”

TAGS LIST: (If you’d like to be added, let me know!) @veganfangirl5 @libbymouse @hiddles-rose @sonic-lipstick-is-mine @coffeebeforewater

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carasstarwarsmusings · 7 years ago

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My Fanfics - Master Post

Completed Fics

Chained (part 1 of the Bound Trilogy) - Rated M

Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), Luke Skywalker, Armitage Hux, Snoke (Star Wars), Ezra Bridger, Sabine Wren, Leia Organa, Poe Dameron, Force Bond (Star Wars), creepy kylo, Tough Rey, Luke is a complex character, Everybody is damaged it just is a matter of how much, Slow Burn, First of a Trilogy

Canon compliant through TFA, my exploration of the idea of a force bond between Rey and Kylo. Funny thing, I really didn’t think they’d do it in canon, so this is one of my few fics that actually have a force bond between them.

Trigger warning for an attempted dream rape sequence and child abuse in a Rey flashback dream. Canon typical violence.

Summary

Kylo Ren has found himself fixated on the girl he captured on Takadona. The girl who had somehow managed to best him on Starkiller. The girl who he now realizes is the one from his dreams, the girl in the veil who he has endlessly chased and never catches. The girl that he now appears to be strangely linked to, able to feel over light years of space.

If there is one certainty in his life, it's that this girl will be his, that he will capture her and she will submit to him

Rey survived Kylo Ren and escaped Starkiller, only to find him haunting her. Whispering in her head and finding her in her dreams. Sent to find Luke Skywalker, Rey finds herself training, learning to use her powers, soon realizing that she was being hunted by the monster she defeated but left alive. The monster who's mind now seems linked directly to hers.

Chained together by a force bond, the two adversaries begin to understand the potential and dangers of this link between them.

Snare - Rated M

Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren & Rey, Rey (Star Wars), Kylo Ren, Leia Organa, Original Characters, unnamed-background-Resistance-members™️, Luke Skywalker, Chewbacca (Star Wars), Han Solo, Finn (Star Wars), TFA flip script, And less in a toss the pages in the air kind of way and more of a I put the script in a blender, Dark!Creepy!Luke, Neither side is black or white, everyone is morally grey, characters that are just slightly out of character, On Purpose, It's hard to explain, you'll understand once you read it, Slow Burn

A flip script of TFA that has a Resistance ambush set up in Tuanal and let’s the story deviate from there. Lots of turning themes and arcs and scenes from TFA on their head, so the story feels familiar, but you still just never know for sure what to expect.

Summary

Kylo walked into a trap set up by the Resistance when the First Order raided San Tekka's village. He's now found himself alone in the desert, on a planet crawling with Resistance and Resistance allies and a bounty on his head that is going to have the locals all interested in capturing him.

Pro Forma (Part 1 of Pro Forma Universe) - Rated M

Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), Armitage Hux, Leia Organa, space ball

Written using this work of @elithien as my prompt. A space ball in neutral territory where Rey and Kylo once again cross paths.

Preview

Did it even matter? He had been a boy still, the last time he’d been in the same room with his mother. The last time he heard her voice, they hadn’t talked over a com either since then. They had written, there was that, though he had written far more than she wrote back. Dutiful son and Jedi padawan that he had been, he wrote faithfully. She wrote back when she found the time, which, as it always had been with finding time for her family, had been rarely.

Hux swept his way towards the group surrounding the Vice-Chancellor, puffing himself out. He had seen Organa, that was certain. His motives for joining whatever conversations were taking place was certainly to kriff with her. It was what the little prick did best.

Why was he even still standing here? He needed to move, needed to get out of sight. If she looked over at Hux as he approached them, she would see him. Surely, there was nothing good that could come from her knowing he was here. Taking a step back, he began to turn when another figure stepped next to his mother.

Her. The girl. The scavenger.

Six of Swords (part 1 of Arcana)

A little post TLJ angsty force bond ficlet I wrote for ceallaigheirinn for the underated Reylo secret santa. Became the first in what will hopefully be a Tarot inspired ficlet collection.

Six of Swords - A regretful but necessary transition. Being forced to let go of something to which you were attached. A journey that is necessary to leave turmoil behind and find calmer waters. Reversed, limbo, being unable to move on, let go of baggage.

Works In Progress

Something to Love - Rated M - Ch 14/?

Kylo Ren/Rey, Finn/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), Leia Organa, Finn (Star Wars), Poe Dameron, Jessika Pava, Rey and Kylo ran away together, Sadly they're not going to be able to live happily ever after, Just when they think they were free they get pulled back in, Reylo babies, These two love each other, War's a bitch, six years or so later, General Finn, Admiral Poe Dameron, Commander Jessika Pava, Snoke is still a creep, The Resistance are kind of assholes too, General Finn Tico, Angst, So much angst

A runaway AU and a Reylo Baby AU, where Kylo and Rey ended up both abandoning the fight and running away together. Be prepared for angst and to hate characters you didn’t realize you could hate. Seriously, this fic is kinda non-stop emotional abuse of my readers.

Summary

Six years ago they ran. For four years they've been living in peace, away from the chaos and the war that continues to rage.

Rey and Kylo have built a family and a home on an isolated moon in wild space. For four years with no conflict or run ins with either the First Order or the Resistance, they've allowed themselves to relax and breath, thinking that maybe both sides of the conflict have decided to leave them behind. But the war isn't done with them yet, and when they find themselves forcibly dragged back into the fray, Rey must choose to fight again to protect her children and the man she loves.

Apathetic Synergy - Rated M - Ch 15/?

Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren & Rey, Rey (Star Wars), Kylo Ren

I really need to up my tag game on this fic, lol. This is an AU where Rey is captured at the end of TFA by the First Order and is put under Kylo’s care.

Preview

She twisted on the bed, bending as much as the restraints would let her, ignoring the pain of her still healing side and tuning out the steady, irritating beep of the medbay equipment. Her focus was on the clear line running down to the connection to her vein. The medics had come again, added the drugs to IV bag without any acknowledgement of her before leaving. It’s effects were already starting to be felt. Soon it would sweep her away into an unfocused daze.

If she let it.

Catching the line on the guardrail of the bed, she twisted her arm against the restraint, pulling the line taut, biting her lip against the pain of the catheter twisting in her vein. With a slow, steady pull, she felt the needle of the line slip out of the catheter, just enough that the drip would run off and not into her body. The line was close enough that she could use the force to push it back in when they came to check on her, or when the bag was empty and the worry about the drugs were no longer a threat.

Bloodstock - Rated T (for now anyway), Ch 6/?

Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), Han Solo, Chewbacca (Star Wars), Kylo Ren, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Phasma (Star Wars), Armitage Hux, Snoke (Star Wars), Amilyn Holdo, Poe Dameron, Rose Tico, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, equestrian AU, Hunter/Jumper AU, Equestrain book and movie tropes abound, Dark side of the horse industry, Some inspiration from real events and crimes, Millenium Falcon is a horse, As is Kylo's TIE Silencer, Rating subject to change

The equestrian AU no one asked for, where I can combine my horse obsession and my star wars obsession all in one place!

Featuring washed up former champion trainer Han Solo, spunky girl from nowhere Rey, champion jumper rider Kylo Ren who works for Snoke's First Order Stables. Trigger warnings for some violence and animal deaths.

Summary

Whatever Rey had been expecting when she began hitchhiking her way westward across the United States with an expired visa, no money, and next to nothing to her name, ending up working and riding for former champion horse trainer and rider Han Solo had not been one of them. Yet that's where she's found herself, living and working on Han's farm in rural Minnesota with Han, Han's friend and stablehand Chewie Bacca, and the gruff trainer's six horses.

When Han gets himself into more than a little bit of trouble, Rey presses him to bring his old jumper—Millennium Falcon—out of retirement and to let her try to help win the money the man needs. The three travel to Illinois, where the hunter/jumper show world is dominated by First Order Farms, owned by the shady Silas Snoke, and home of champion jumper rider Kylo Ren. Rey soon finds the horse industry is a far darker and more dangerous place than she ever could have expected.

Bonded (Part 2 of the Bound Trilogy) - Rated M - ch 13/?

Kylo Ren/Rey, Reylo, Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), More characters to be added as we go along ;), Slow Burn, Grey Jedi, Force Bond

Another I have to up my tag game on. Sequel to Chained.

Summary

Kylo Ren finally has his scavenger, an agreement for her to travel with him for the next year in trade for information he provided the Resistance on the First Order, yet she remains resistant both to him and to being taught by him. With the First Order and Supreme Leader Snoke hunting for them to punish him for his betrayal, he struggles to win Rey's trust, trust he needs if the two of them are going to survive.

In a journey that leads them through the edges of the outer rim to the unmapped reaches of the wild space, the two find themselves following old legends as they attempt to find a better understanding of the Force. In taking on this journey, they will find more about themselves, their feelings towards one another, and the connection that binds them.

Low Places (part 2 of Pro Forma Universe) - Rated M - ch 8/?

Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren & Rey, Dopheld Mitaka/Phasma, Kylo Ren, Sometime after the events in Pro Forma

This takes place after the events in Pro Forma, on a sketchy bar in a neutral world, where Kylo and Rey once again cross paths. The Pro Forma Rey/Kylo are possibly my favorite variations of those characters. It’s a far more, I don’t know, lighthearted than my other stuff? I mean there’s stress and angst and pining, but there’s just something adorable about these two. And this fic can be borderline cracky but not in an unbelievable way.

Preview

Slowly, deliberately, he folded his arms across his chest, cocking his head before speaking in with a tone of dry humor, “Come now, that’s no way to talk about General Organa.”

The mob of Resistance muttered among themselves, not getting the joke. Likely because no one realized who was in the room with them.

Even though the audience that got it was limited, he still thought the joke was a good one. And judging from the flash of annoyance in Rey's eyes, she got it. She’d laugh about it later when the tension in the air wasn't so smothering, he was sure if it.

But right now, Rey was looking around with a panicked desperation in her eyes and he sighed inwardly, taking pity on her as she tried to figure out how to keep the peace and not let things continue to spiral out of control. It tugged at his heart in a way that only she seemed able to inspire, and he forgave her for her concern for the traitor. Forgave her for any and every trespass she’d committed and was still to commit.

Force, she had him. He was completely and irrevocably hers. He would forgive her for anything.

Remnants - Rated M - Ch 7/?

Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, Rey (Star Wars), Poe Dameron, Canon Divergence - Alternate Timeline, Flip script, Takes place over the same time as the events in TFA, But Ben never turned against Luke, But the First Order still destroyed the academy, And Luke still ran off and vanished, Ben and Luke are the only survivors of the new Jedi, These tags are complicated

Another flip script of TFA. This one with the idea of Ben never turning against Luke, but still with the new Jedi order being destroyed and Luke vanishing.

Summary

Six years ago the First Order attacked and destroyed Luke Skywalker's new Jedi order, leaving only Ben Organa and Luke as the survivors of the massacre. His uncle having vanished, Ben now serves as the last remnant of the fallen order as the threat of the First Order continues to grow. Doing his best to aid the Resistance and help stop the rise of the First Order, the weight of legacy heavy on his shoulders, he finds himself torn between light and darkness as he searches for his uncle along with darker answer to the events of the past.

Word comes that there's a map that could finally help lead him to his missing uncle, after six years of fruitless searching for clues. For the first time in a long time, he finds hope that he might finally be able to find Luke and bring him home, and finally shed some of the burden that had been left on him in his uncle's absence. Hoping for the best, he heads to meet up with Poe Dameron on the desert planet of Jakku to find this map and keep it from falling into enemy hands.

Arcana - Rated M - Ch 2/77

A little project of mine to create one ficlet for each card in the tarot deck. Each chapter is one card and ficlets are not linear or necessarily within the same timeline.

#master post #reylo #reylo fics #reylo fanfics #cara's reylo fanfics

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tmbacorbett · 3 years ago

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Book Blitz: The Academy Saga (Book IV of Trial & Tribulations) by CJ Daly

New Adult Romance, Military Romance, College Romance, Alpha Romance

Date Published: April 8th, 2022

Publisher:

Brandylight Ink

Kate Connelly has been longing for escape from The Academy since the day she arrived.

Just when she’d settled into her role as an elite cadet and Officer Ranger Nealson’s wife, her first love, former Elite Cadet Pete Davenport, crashes into her life once again. Unwilling to let Ranger have her, he carries out a daring rescue, snatching her back from The Academy and the possessive arms of her new husband . . . while on their honeymoon in Mexico.

After the absolute best summer of her life, she discovers that The Academy has retaliated by abducting her other brother, and a growing reason why she has to return. Kate makes the heartbreaking decision to leave Pete, arriving back at The Academy with Ranger’s prized possession. But instead of welcoming her back with open arms, she’s greeted with a cold shoulder and finds herself back to square one—with The Academy and with Ranger.

Before she can even catch her breath, she’s forced, once again, into carrying out The Academy’s ongoing plans for her. Meanwhile, Ranger’s ruthless pursuit of revenge and reaching for the next rung in his career leaves Kate isolated, outcast, and bitterly regretting her decision to return. But just when things seem to be turning around for The Nealsons, something crashes into their lives that shatters all that has ever mattered: past, present, and future. Priorities, alliances, and old vendettas shift once again. And their lives will never be the same.

Other books in The Academy Saga series:

The Academy

The Academy Saga, Book I

Be careful what you wish for . . .

Cadet-in-Training

The Academy Saga, Book One II

Kate’s destiny has been determined for her.

CAP & Gown

The Academy Saga, Book One III

Katie Connelly is nineteen years old but feels like she’s been fighting for survival forever.

Find the series on Amazon

All Four Books are FREE on Kindle Unlimited!!

About the Author

CJ Daly grew up on the scrabbly plains of Eastern New Mexico. When she was supposed to be helping her six siblings with chores on the family ranch, she was really sneaking behind dusty haystacks to read. And dreaming about becoming a writer.

After graduating high school, CJ moved to Big D (Dallas) where she quickly put herself through college while trying to rid herself of her country accent. She had better luck with college, graduating magna cum laude with a degree in English literature. After teaching a few years, and pausing to have back-to-back boys, she began writing in earnest.

A few years later, “The Academy Saga” was born. “The Academy” is her debut novel, and “The Academy,

Cadet-in-Training” is the sequel. CJ is so proud that both books earned Readers’ Favorites 5-STAR seals of approval. When she isn’t writing, you can usually find her running from one athletic field to another, feeding the array of wild animals that show up at her back door, or kicking back with her gal-pals to sip cocktails and gossip about favorite books and TV shows.

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Instagram

BookBuzz

Purchase Link

Amazon

The post Book Blitz: The Academy Saga (Book IV of Trial & Tribulations) by CJ Daly first appeared on TMBA Corbett Tries to Write.

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dotshiiki · 7 years ago

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the AU from left field wtf where did this come from.

I cannot believe I went and wrote this but it wouldn’t leave me alone and I had to get it out of my system so I could go back to writing, you know, stuff that I’m supposed to be writing, anyway Grey’s Anatomy!AU or for those of you who don’t know the show it’s basically surgical-intern!Annabeth and patient!Percy with a side of douchebag-attending!Luke in a completely messed up triangle (and Annabeth thinks she’s so going to hell for all of it). Just your average rip-off of the GA pilot (I can’t believe that show is still going).

(Rated T for swearing and non-explicit sex. It wouldn’t be Grey’s without the swearing and sex. Read at your own risk. :P)

The first time she meets Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase gets groped.

To be fair, he has no clue what he did. She can't very well fault a patient when his flailing limbs land in an unfortunate spot when he's in the middle of a grand mal seizure. She just happens to be the poor intern leaning over him, trying to hold him steady.

Anyway, it's just one more annoying thing in what has already been an exhausting day. She's into hour twenty-five of her first-ever shift at Olympus General, and she's already dealt with explosive diarhhea, uncontrolled vomitting, and seventeen rectal exams. (She swears Dr Ramírez-Arellano must hate her guts.) Getting groped by an unconscious patient should be routine by now, right?

Besides, it could be worse--he could be some smelly old man rather than the fit twenty-six-year-old car crash victim with a ripped body (hey, she's the one hanging on to it for dear life while Dr Ramírez-Arellano yells for two milligrams of chlorazepam and a wide bore IV, after all). And he is kinda cute, if you ignore the matted blood on his forehead and the fact that his eyes are rolling back in his head.

Great. Now she knows she's really tired, if she's actually checking out bloodied car crash victims.

They finally get him stabilised and up to CT, and Annabeth rests her eyes briefly as she leans against the wall outside the room, wondering for the tenth time since her shift began why it was so important for her to join the game anyway.

The speech the Chief of Surgery gave this morning (yesterday morning? Time doesn't really have much meaning after twenty-five hours on your feet) comes back to her: The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You'll be pushed to the breaking point.

Right now, Annabeth thinks she may be at one of those breaking points Dr Brunner was talking about. She can't think of a single reason she should be a surgeon, but she can think of a thousand reasons why she should quit.

'Hey. Hey!'

She blinks at the lab tech who's waving the scans in front of her to get her attention.

'These yours, right?'

'Uh--right.' Annabeth stifles a yawn, grabs her scans, and heads off to find her resident.

Twenty-three more hours to go.

OoOoO

The next time Percy Jackson gropes her, it's another accident. She's adjusting his IV drip in the ICU when he wakes up, reaching out blindly. His fingers brush her breast and pause in confusion. Annabeth freezes as well--is this guy serious?--and then she realises that although Jackson's eyes are open and staring at her, they also have the blank look of someone who can't see.

'What--' Jackson croaks. His fingers move hesitantly against her chest--and she regains enough presence of mind to move quickly back, out of their way. 'Oh my god, did I just--what's going on?'

'It's okay,' she says soothingly. 'You're in the ICU. You were in a car accident. You're gonna be fine.'

'I was--oh gods, Mom! My mom--is she okay?'

Annabeth vaguely remembers two passengers who came in at the same time. She thinks Will Solace took care of the older woman in the pit ... ah, yes. Minor injury. 'She's fine,' Annabeth reassures him. 'Got away with nothing but a sprained shoulder. Didn't even have to stay the night.'

'And Callie? Where's Callie? Is she okay?'

'Is that your girlfriend?'

There's no reason her heart should rise a little when he shakes his head. It's of utterly no concern to her whether her patient is attached or single, even if those glassy unseeing eyes are melting her heart (it's sympathy, pure sympathy). The irises a striking shade of green, and she can only imagine what they'd do to her if they were clear and lucid.

'My friend Leo's. Poseidon, Neptune, and Porcys, he's gonna kill me.'

Annabeth bites back a smile at the funny cursing. She's never heard anyone swear on the names of ocean deities of an ancient polytheistic culture. At least she thinks they're ancient water gods? It's been decades since Middle School history or Latin or whatever that class was that they learned about them. And she wonders what on earth Percy Jackson does that he'd be up to speed on ancient Greek culture. Maybe he is Greek. He has the looks or it, mmm, Mediterranean skin and thick lashes--okay enough, Chase.

'I'm pretty sure she's fine, too.' She closes her eyes and tries to recall the other woman in the ER. Short, long-haired? Did anyone take her case? No, because she--'Got away without a scratch. She was one lucky girl.'

Jackson relaxes visibly. Annabeth frowns a little. This 'Callie' might be his friend's girlfriend, but he does seem awfully concerned. Maybe he has a thing for her, too.

And no, she doesn't care if a guy she doesn't even know is crushing on his friend's girl. He can like whoever he wants. He's just her patient.

'Can I see them?'

'After your surgery,' she says. 'I just need to check you over now. Can you follow the light, Mr Jackson?' She already knows before she does the pupillary response test that he won't be able to, but it's all procedure and she has to go through it.

'Percy,' he says.

'Sorry?'

'My name's Percy.'

'Percy, then.' She shines the pen-light in his eyes. No response. Hopefully it's only temporary--a pinched optic nerve, maybe, something that can be fixed in surgery.

'And I don't see anything.' He swallows hard. 'Am I--' The way his Adam's apple bobs tremulously, like he's already trying to come to terms with the bad news she hasn't yet delivered tugs at her heart.

Damn it.

She can just hear her mother's voice in her head--'Personal feelings get in the way. You have to be able to detach yourself if you're going to be a good surgeon.' Yeah, her mom's a pro at the art of detaching herself. She's done it for years and years, and not just with patients.

'We may be able to fix it in surgery,' Annabeth tells him. 'It should happen tomorrow. We needed to make sure you're stable before we get you in the OR.'

'Right,' he says. 'Are you my surgeon?'

'I--uh, no, I'm just an intern.'

'Oh.' Percy laughs nervously. 'You know, the last time I ended up in hospital--'

'A regular, are you?'

His grin is sheepish. 'Not really. It's just that I sprained my ankle a couple of weeks back and the doctor said it was fine and I wouldn't need to come back. I don't think he bargained for car accidents.' Percy frowns. 'I can't remember how that happened.'

'Don't worry about it. Short-term memory loss isn't uncommon with head traumas.'

She finishes her examination--other than his eyes, Percy seems well enough for a guy recovering from a grand mal. It's funny--that shouldn't really affect his sight, but there's clearly something more going on in his brain that the neuro attending will definitely need a closer look at. She could've sworn his scans were clean, though.

'I'll let you get some rest.' She rolls up her stethoscope and hangs in around her neck.

'No, wait--don't go.' His hand reaches out feebly, thankfully nowhere near her chest this time. 'I--sorry, you must have stuff to do.'

She does--there's labs to deliver and other patients to check on, and her shift is just about up, at long last--but Percy Jackson is the main case she's been assigned. Her responsibility.

She takes his hand. His fear is palpable; she can feel it in the cling of his trembling fingers.

'It's okay,' she murmurs. 'You're gonna be fine.'

'Thanks, Dr, er--'

'Chase. Annabeth.'

'Annabeth,' he repeats. 'That's a pretty name. It suits you.'

'You can't even see me.'

'I can tell from your voice.'

Although she knows it's probably the pain meds talking, and he probably won't remember a word of this conversation the next morning, Annabeth gets a little flutter in the pit of her stomach anyway. Percy's unseeing eyes blink at her. They are nice eyes, almond-shaped and slightly slanted, like they're sending her a personal wink. And god, how unfair are those thick lashes on a guy?

'I bet you say that to all the girls.'

'Only the cute ones.'

'Again, you can't see me.'

'Then you'd better fix my eyes because I'd like to.'

Her heart does a little tap dance. 'You're--you're flirting with me. You can't flirt with me.'

His lips quirk. 'Why not?'

It's the pain meds, and the fear of surgery, she tells herself. He's probably one of those guys who flirts when he's terrified. (She can totally understand that.)

'I'm your doctor, for one.' She should probably let go of his hand if she's going to seriously rebuff him.

But if this is helping him stay calm, that's not a bad thing, right?

'Well, that's good. I thought you were gonna say you're already taken.'

She freezes, thinking guiltily of the messy friends-with-benefits situation she's got going on with her not-boyfriend at the moment (she never knows what to call Luke) that just got more complicated this very afternoon.

Percy must feel the ice that's running through her hands then. 'Oh,' he says, and starts to let go. 'Sorry, I didn't mean--'

She should let this go. Let him go. But her fingers hold on to his of their own accord. 'No, it's not--I mean, it's complicated. I'm not--argh, I'm single, is what I mean.'

'Huh. So flirting's a go?'

'Yes--no! I'm still your doctor!'

He laughs. 'Damn, you're a lot smarter than the tour groupies.'

Tour groupies? Oh god, he's probably a rock star or something. She's flirting with a rock star--no, he's flirting with her, and when was the last time someone like him flirted with someone like her? She wonders what it'd be like to date a cute guy who isn't all tied up with her career and her mom and the train wreck of her romantic history.

Good gods, what is she thinking? She can't date a patient.

Percy mistakes her silence for confusion and clarifies, 'I'm a surfer. You know, surfing champs and all that?'

Oh. Well, she got that one wrong. 'Like Kelly Slater?'

'Funny how that's the only surfer anyone ever knows.'

'I know other surfers,' she replies automatically, although she doesn't really. She's barely even been to the beach all her life. It's not like they're far from the water, but when has her mom ever had the time to take her? And once you enter med school--well, that's kind of like kissing your social life goodbye.

'Oh? Name one.'

'Percy Jackson.'

He laughs so hard, she's afraid he might burst an aneurysm in his brain. He has a great laugh--it bubbles up from deep inside him and fills the whole room--and it's so infectious, she can't help but join in.

She really has other stuff to do, but she ends up sitting there with him, holding his hand and bantering about stuff she doesn't even remember later (but still feels like the silver lining in her crappy first day of work) until he falls asleep again.

She tells herself it's just patient care.

It's what any good doctor would do, right?

OoOoO

It's at least five hours after her shift officially ends when she stumbles into an empty on-call room. She's supposed to be going home, and she knows that putting off the moment will only make it worse when she finally faces her mother's interrogation of her first day as an intern, but she's going to avoid it anyway. And if there's one excuse Dr Athena Chase can't argue with, it's being tied up at the hospital.

God knows she's used it enough times herself.

Luke finds her, of course, right when she's ready to crawl under the thin hospital-issue sheets (would it really kill them to spring for something a little more comfortable for weary doctors? She's not asking for much, maybe just something soft instead of crisp and sterile) and lose herself to the world.

'Annabeth,' he says, with that smug arrogance that he carries everywhere with him. Once upon a time she thought it the sexiest thing ever, was incredibly flattered that her mom's up-and-coming young resident took an interest in her.

Right now their relationship--if you can even call it that--is a time bomb that might explode in her face any moment.

'Dr Castellan,' she says stiffly.

'Dr Chase,' he mimics. 'What happened to Luke?'

'Did you even think to tell me you were coming to work here?'

He chuckles and turns the lock in the door. 'I thought it'd make a nice surprise.'

'A nice surprise?' she hisses. 'I had to find out that my--my--whatever this was--is my attending from my resident!' She can't forget the humiliating moment when she brought Percy Jackson's scans to Dr Ramírez-Arellano, only to be told to deliver them to the new attending--Dr Castellan. She'd frozen completely at the sound of his name, until Piper McLean, her fellow intern, had elbowed her sharply in the ribs.

'Thought you'd be happy to have one attending who won't be riding you. Well, maybe in a different way.' He leers at her suggestively, leaving no question about why he's come looking for her.

'We can't.'

'I don't recall any objections last night.'

'First of all, that was two nights ago, and B, that was before you became my boss.'

He steps into her space and places a hand on the back of her neck to draw her face towards his. 'Lighten up. You're off duty now, aren't you?'

'We really shouldn't.'

'Nobody needs to know.' His hand is hot and heavy on her stomach, finding its way to the waistband of her scrubs and tugging them down.

They really shouldn't--this could blow up in so many ways--but she lets him, because it's Luke, and this is a dance they've been doing for years.

And okay, she needs something to get her mind off Percy Jackson, whose smile and voice and touch is lingering in her brain more than she cares to admit. Sleeping with Luke may be flirting with disaster, but fantasising about a patient--a patient, for Christ's sake, talk about breaches of ethics--is so much worse.

(Except that when Luke touches her, it's the accidental brush of Percy's fingers against her chest that she thinks of, and the echo of his laughter that rings through her head in place of Luke's moans, and how much more fucked up could this get?)

When it's over and Luke is snoring next to her, Annabeth gets up quietly and drags herself into the shower. She turns up the heat and lets the near-scalding spray scrub her raw, but the ghost of Luke clings to her like a second skin.

(Yeah, you can all send me to Tartarus now.)

#grey's anatomy au #percy jackson au #percy jackson #annabeth chase #luke castellan #percabeth #totally messed up lukabeth because you gotta admit that relationship was always fucked up #intern!annabeth #patient!percy #doctor!annabeth #attending!luke #mortals au #wtf i still can't believe i wrote this #can i just get back to writing-as-usual now?#percy jackson fanfic

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tumbling-down-tumbling-down · 5 years ago

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A Transcription of the Late 1st Era Tele-Memetic Artifact “M.N. Captain Nero’s Adventures through Oblivi-Space!!, Vol. 17”

Transcriptor’s Note: One of the great pitfalls of modern academia’s myopic fascination with relics from great tombs and Ayleid ruins is that it tends to find a lot of incandescent crystals glowing every color of the rainbow that ironically shed virtually no light on how people of the past actually lived. While my colleagues at the I.C.A.U. were busy announcing what Dwemer outpost they’re going to spend the entire yearly budget (and probably a few graduate student souls) exploring, I just happened to look into my sweet neighbor Dynatia Geelteus’s request about a small cache of old artifacts workers found while excavating to expand her shop’s basement.

Who would have guessed that while we scrape the bottom of the barrel to plunder every single crypt for the last few legendary maces of +10 stamina damage, the real cultural treasures have been here all along, moldering beneath the ground of our city that’s been continuously inhabited by man and mer for at least 5,000 years. But by all means, don’t take my grant proposals.

—

This artifact appears to be a piece of entertainment or propganda of an unknown format. The physical object is two smooth translucent disks that can freely rotate around a single axis, apparently intersecting in physical space but able to pass through each other freely. Each disk individually is covered in Remen-era proto-Cyrodiilic text which this researcher is not fluent in. Nonetheless, when focusing not on the individual disks but instead the system as a whole, one is somehow able to pick out and resolve the competing overlapping fragments into clear meaning and even full color images.

Since this style of pictorial dissemination has been lost to time, this scholar will merely have to transcribe the language and events into mundane text for publication. Originally an artist was commissioned to recreate the images for closer inspection, but for some reason this style of tele-memetic transmission resists such replication. The images flee from the mind like fragments of an interrupted dream the moment a brush touches canvas. Until further investigation, it is unclear whether this is due to the metaphysics of observing a message through conflicting constituent aspects or if it’s some type of copy protection.

Humbly and respectfully, Ashei Tigonus Sr. Professor of Tamrielic History Imperial City Arcane University, 4E194

Transcription: “M.N. Captain Nero’s Adventures through Oblivi-Space!!, Vol. 17”

[A tall dark structure lies suspended high above the twin planets Zenithar and Mara. Three figures drift towards it, all decked out in full mundane-simulacrum frames of imperial mothsilk1 — a near-necessity for all but the most tenacious mortals in the interplanar stretches of oblivion. The wingcloaks of the suits flap slowly, propelling them forward and giving off gentle fuchsia pulses with each beat. In the background behind the three figures is an enormous moth imperator. The behemoth floats lackadaisically in the void, sunning the hanging gardens in its wings and the silver cathedral built into its back with the rays of distant Magnus.

Four title cards: “FIRST MATE YAL BOETH,” “CENTURION CLAI DUNLAIN,” and “BURGLAR XEIRSAAR” appear on the silhouetted figures. “THE N.V.N. MYRRHMIDON” names the far-off moth.]

YAL — “Remember: this warp-spire has been allegedly abandoned, but that just means there are no Alinori soldiers in there. These empty things have a tendency to accumulate all sorts of riff-raff, fugitives, and Khajiit before the last sunbird is even out of sight.”

XEIRSAAR — “I once found a grounded Akaviri cloud litter on the fourth ring of Kynareth. It was a tiny thing, no bigger than a large hut. And yet, when my egg-brother cracked open the hatch no less than six kaoc Khajiit shot out and scattered to the winds.

[Clai laughs as the party reaches the surface of the spire. Xeirsaar pulls out a small set of tools and gets to work on removing a silver plate from the surface while the others wait.]

XEIRSAAR — “I tried to grab one but they were the small quick ones that seem to squirm out of your reach before you’ve even considered moving your arm. We got the last laugh though. All the original Akaviri artifacts had been stripped away, but inside the Khajiit left behind a 10,000 drake cache of moon sugar — ahh, here we go.”

[The armored plate pops out of place and Xeirsaar spins it like a discus out into the void. Clai draws her catalyst staff and drops into the exposed hole. After a few seconds the others slide in after her.

The party emerges from the ground of a huge cylindrical colony with livable space wrapped around the spinning inner surface. The habitat environment looks it was plucked right out of the Alinor countryside — well-trimmed gardens filled with fountains and flowering trees blanket the gently rolling hills, soaring prismatic palaces shimmering in the artificial noon-light dot the landscape, birds flit to and fro among the trees and wheel through the expansive central sky. The crew removes their bulbous M.-S.F. helmets.]

CLAI, letting out a slow whistle — “Woah. Nice place. And the Dominion abandoned it? Why in Mundus would they do that?”

YAL — “Uhh, I know the high elves have strange architecture, but I’m pretty sure that one wasn’t built that way.”

[Yal points to one of the palaces behind the crew which is significantly shorter than the others. Rather than coming to an elegant peak, the blunted top is ragged and gashed, with chunks of shattered crystal and steel strewn all around the yard. Several trees on the surrounding hills appear to have been wrenched up by their roots and more deep gashes can be seen in the gardens themselves.

All at once birds from the surrounding area all take flight at once and stream away from the ruined mansion as a low hum begins to emanate from it.]

CLAI — “That’s probably not a good sign.”

??? — “MEANWHILE, BACK ON THE MYRRHMIDON…”

[Two title cards: “CAPTAIN NERO” and “CHIEF CARTOGRAPHER GAILIEL.” Gailiel is lying on her back in the glass-roofed observatory when Nero swings open the door and strides in. The top of the panel shows the canopy of brilliant stars speckled across the void of oblivion.]

NERO — “Hey Gail. Looking for something?”

GAILIEL — “There are 1,007 other known Magna-Ge tears out there. Who knows how many have their own system? Their own planets?”

NERO — “Surely only the Star of Magnus is great enough to sustain worlds. Our manometer measures the minor tears’ power at a thousandth of a thousandth of a thousandth as strong. They’re tiny compared to the sun.”

GAILIEL, breathlessly — “I’ve been thinking about this ⁠— that might merely be a matter of perspective. The Bosmer of my old homeland worship Y’ffre chief among all gods, while you Alessians relegate her to barely a footnote as merely one of the Earth-Bones. Perhaps the inhabitants of a sub-planet of Thief-IV have done the same with Magnus, and venerate their own king tear of the Magna-Ge instead.”

NERO — “That’s an interesting hypothesis, so where’s your proof?”

GAILIEL, exasperated — “Well surely that’s what explorers like us are for. Until we try, who would know?”

[Gailiel stands up and looks at Nero for the first time.]

GAILIEL — “Sorry. That’s why I’ve been so frustrated with our orders to set back for Tatterdemalion. I just want to push forward, not retrace paths that a dozen mananauts have tread before.”

[Nero smirks mischievously and pulls a two-disk tele-memetic device out of his pocket.]

NERO — “Oh these orders? The ones I read conspicuously aloud to everyone in front of that ‘merchant’ sunbird on Dibella?”

[Gailiel catches on and grins back in return while Nero crushes the disks with one hand.]

NERO — “Oh don’t worry, as soon as the exploration team gets back I have a much more interesting destination in mind…”

??? — “WILL YAL’S AWAY PARTY ESCAPE THE DANGER? TUNE IN NEXT VOLUME TO SEE THE INTREPID CREW OF THE MYRRHMIDON’S NEXT GRAND ADVENTURE!”

??? — “Bonus section: On this volume of ‘Meet the Crew!!’”

[Title card: “CHIEF META-ENTOMOLOGIST OCTAVIA OCTA’VO”

A young Cyrodiilic woman stands confidently, holding a butterfly net leaning across her shoulders with one hand and presenting a sealed glass jar with a silver-green moth inside with the other.]

??? — “Octavia is in charge of tending to the needs of ALTRRUHN, the moth imperator that serves as the foundation of the Myrrhmidon2. While the species doesn’t require mundane food or drink, its wings need to be continuously checked for voidmites or the dreaded silk shalks that have brought down multiple N.V.N. mothships.

When the crew makes landfall, Octavia keeps the Myrrhmidon in an chronoglass — a jar blown by the famed Glass-shouters Guild of Windhelm. The Nords say that Kyne’s breath fills the glass so uniformly that not even Akatosh has room to get in. Storing the Myrrhmidon inside will keep ALTRRUHN in near-perfect unaging stasis — important since moth imperators are hard to find, even harder to train, and don’t tend to live a particularly long time.”

??? — “THAT’S ALL THIS WEEK. CHECK BACK IN VOL. 18 TO MEET HELMSMAN ZYKLOHS!”

Transcription endnotes: 1 To see a rare surviving M.-S. frame from the era in person, contact Professor Hlov Gateri at the Imperial City Arcane University who regularly displays one from his private collection in his office. He’d love to talk to anyone who’s interested about the Remen-era New Void Navy.

2 The Elder Council Public Archives keep records of every known moth imperator of the first, second, and early third eras and ALTRRUHN is not on the list. The existence of other places, events, and individuals listed in the text is harder to ascertain, since many of those records are still held in confidence by the Royal Imperial Mananauts and are never disclosed publicly.

#elder scrolls #apocrypha

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avecorviidae · 6 years ago

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Fic: Aubade - Chapter One

Fandom: Mob Psycho 100 Rating: M Relationship(s): Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou Word Count: 4196

Ao3 Link

Ritsu takes the overnight train from Grain City. His mother had told him to take the day train, given that they both knew he wouldn’t sleep on the ride home, and it would be better for him to arrive in the evening and go straight to bed, instead of arriving at dawn and spending all day trying not to fall asleep. She was probably right, but Ritsu was more or less an insomniac anyways, and night trains tended to be far less crowded, so. If he didn’t have to sit anywhere near a small, loud child, it would all be worth it.

He leans against a stone pillar on the platform and waits for the train to pull in. Despite the heavy summer air, the stone is cool at his back, seeping into his t-shirt and providing a pleasant contrast to the hot coffee in his hand. It should be cooling down a little soon, he thinks, staring at the sky, painted in soft pinks and oranges that darken into a deep red where the sun has disappeared behind some distant mountains. He cranes his head in the other direction to see where inky blue is starting to appear on the horizon, fading abruptly into the soft light of the sunset in broad strokes. It reminds him of the time he and Mob had found their mother’s watercolours when they were little, and decided to ‘decorate’ Ritsu’s bedroom walls. He spots a couple of white pinpricks in the distance, and distracts himself with trying to figure out if they’re stars or planes until the train pulls into the station, stopping at the platform with a shuddering sigh.

The only other people who would take an overnight train all the way to Seasoning City are a small crowd of salarymen making a commute for work, and Ritsu is infinitely thankful that they all seem to be as tired and antisocial as he is, because he finds himself alone in a passenger car aside from one dead-eyed guy in a suit who sits as far away from Ritsu as he’s physically able. Ritsu dumps his backpack onto the seats across from him and sits down, careful to hold his coffee steady as the train starts to pull out. He’s found that he can usually pack light when he’s going home for breaks, so his backpack just has the essentials. His wallet, phone charger, laptop, toiletries, a couple of books, a jacket, and some clean underwear are all he really needs to grab. While he knows that his brother’s old bedroom has been converted into a sewing room of sorts since he moved out, his mother has been loathe to change Ritsu’s room at all, so all of his clothes and such will still be waiting for him at home.

He settles back in his seat and lets himself stare out of the window as the train speeds up, until the station and the outskirts of Grain City fades away and the landscape turns into an indistinct blur. After a while, he remembers to pull out his phone.

TO: SHIGEO Got on the train, I should get into town early tomorrow

His phone buzzes with a response about a minute later.

FROM: SHIGEO Ok, be safe! You should try to get some sleep :0 If you tell me when youre getting close, me and Teru can pick you up at the station

TO: SHIGEO Im going to get here pretty early, youll probably still be asleep But thanks You should sleep too, ill see you tomorrow

FROM: SHIGEO Ok, see you!! <3

Ritsu wrestles with his pride for a few moments before sending back a ‘<3’ and shoving his phone back in his pocket.

He lets himself sit for another while, sipping on his drink and grimacing. Eugh. Cheap train station coffee is only tolerable while it’s too hot to taste. Still, he’s spent money on this, so he’s committed now. Night’s fallen quickly, and now when he looks out of his window, all he can see is murky blue, and the vague lights of some buildings in a city off in the distance. They’re just far enough outside of the city that Ritsu thinks he might be able to see the stars, except that the glare from the thin LED strips above the window is reflecting off of the glass too much to see anything but his own face.

A chill settles over the compartment. Not a bad one, or a particularly ominous one, but without the sunlight, the speed of the train and the air conditioning is enough to make him shiver in his thin shirt, reach over to grab a hoodie from his bag.

He shouldn’t leave himself alone with his thoughts, he knows, even as he continues to stare off at nothing. He’s notoriously introspective at this time of night, and he knows he’ll work himself into a panic if he just starts thinking, about this past year and himself and what he even wants to do… He shakes himself out of it. Come on, dumbass. You’ve got ten hours in here, let’s make it past the ten minute mark without dealing with this again. He should distract himself. Read, or play on his phone, or something, but as per usual, he can’t really bring himself to drag himself out of his daze. It’s an oddly comforting feeling, his mind retreating to the point that he barely feels real, like nothing actually exists in the pitch black beyond the window.

Time passes haphazardly, like it’s having trouble squeezing into the stale air of the compartment. His eyes lazily trace patterns on the ugly fabric of the chair across from him for what feels like minutes but could be hours, and despite the caffeine, he finds himself nodding forward, eyes blurring and drifting shut. By the other door, the nondescript businessman has pulled out his laptop and has been typing something for an indeterminate amount of time, and he latches onto the steady tap tap tap tap of the keys, the rapid taptaptaptap when he’s hitting the backspace, turns it into white noise in his mind that blocks out his actual thoughts.

He almost, almost jumps when his phone vibrates in his pocket again. FROM: YOUR FAVORITE ;) yo r u awake

TO: YOUR FAVORITE ;) Yes. what do you want, shou? FROM: YOUR FAVORITE ;) omg why r u up its like fuck in the morning s l e e p anyways teru says ur on ur way back to seasoning u didnt drop out right

He squints at the text, momentarily confused, until a glance at his phone’s clock informs him that it’s almost one in the morning. He must’ve actually fallen asleep for a while. He has a sneaking suspicion that the businessman over there has a very, very close deadline.

TO: YOUR FAVORITE ;) I told you what date i was coming back home a month ago. You know. When i planned this trip. Shockingly, shou, college students get summer break too.

FROM: YOUR FAVORITE ;) i was busy!!!! i forgot!!!!!! how long r u in town :3

TO: YOUR FAVORITE ;) Two weeks. Im just dropping by to see my family and sleep for a while, really.

FROM: YOUR FAVORITE ;) and get a haircut

TO: YOUR FAVORITE ;) And get a haircut.

FROM: YOUR FAVORITE ;) anyways it is like 1 am u should be sleeping

TO: YOUR FAVORITE ;) So should you. I’m on a train, what’s your excuse?

FROM: YOUR FAVORITE ;) :p

Ritsu snorts quietly. Stunning argumentation as always, Suzuki.

He wonders absently if Shou will be around. He’d stayed a couple of cities over for high school, but he’d started travelling as soon as they’d graduated. Apparently, there’d been some overseas business of his father’s that he had to take care of now that he was eighteen, so Ritsu hasn't seen him at all this last year, even during Christmas break. It hadn’t stopped Shou from texting him almost nonstop, however, regardless of different timezones. He wonders if Shou’s even in the country right now. Is it really worth it to get his hopes up, though? He’s already excited to see his brother, and Teru and Reigen, and his parents, so there’s no point in being disappointed if Shou has business elsewhere. They’re not kids anymore, it’s stupid of him to expect Shou to drop whatever obligations or responsibilities he might have to show up in Seasoning City, just to see Ritsu.

His phone buzzes with a new message.

FROM: YOUR FAVORITE ;) hey do u know if ur mom still makes those rlly nice weird caramel cookie things i miss them deeply almost as much as i miss ur dumb face ive almost forgotten what ur angry frown looks like

—

He pauses at the front door, hand resting on the doorknob.

Auras are still… interesting, to Ritsu. Even despite six or so years of being able to use his powers, he still doesn’t really get the buzzing frequencies of energy that roll off of espers in waves, resonating with something in the back of his mind, like plucking on a violin string pulled too tight. He’d eventually gotten used to people’s auras, of course. His brother’s, he’d grown up with. Teru’s was a brainfreeze and a burn all at once, a rush of blood to the head that was strange, but not entirely unpleasant. Shou’s was, well. Shou. He hadn’t realized that places had auras as well. Standing in front of his house, though, he can feel it enveloping him like a blanket right out of the dryer, can feel it in the strange places that his powers seem to manifest, climbing in pinpricks up his arms and heavy at the roof of his mouth, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. It’s achingly, painfully familiar, and it’s only been a year, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed living in a place that’s lived and breathed psychic powers, that’s still imbued with them despite both of its resident espers moving out, and this house feels like home.

Mob is on him almost before he’s through the door, arms wrapped tightly enough around his shoulders to knock the breath out of him. Mob is only a few inches taller than him, but Ritsu is still struck with the feeling of being encompassed by his brother, and it feels in a sense similar to the aura of their house, but there’s something different, something uniquely Mob about it.

Ritsu lets himself enjoy it, hooking his chin over Mob’s shoulder so that he can return the hug without getting crushed completely. “Hey, Nii-san, what are you doing here?” He should be at his own apartment, theoretically. After all, it’s not like he has a bed here anymore.

Mob loosens his grip on Ritsu enough to take a step back and look him in the eyes. He beams at him a moment before his smile is dampened a little by sheepishness. “Ah, well. We thought we’d spend the night so that we could be here when you arrived.” Ritsu has a moment to think ‘We’? before Teru appears in the front hallway, weird hair and atrocious green sweater and all. “Hey, Little Brother!” he calls out with a wave, before weaving around Mob to give Ritsu a hug of his own. “Don’t call me that,” he scolds, whacking him on the back of the head even as he’s letting Teru try his damndest to squeeze him to death.

Teru and Mob have set up a fairly impressive pillow nest on the couch, and the TV is still on low volume, the tail end of some competitive cooking show marathon. That was a ‘thing,’ with these two, for some reason that Ritsu couldn’t understand. They just tended to be stupid competitions with stupid people who’d decided to embarrass themselves on television. Mob had told him it was “kind of stressful, but Teruki likes it, so it’s alright,” while Teru called it a “valuable bonding experience”. Ritsu wonders, sometimes, if all people in relationships are this weird, or if it’s just these two.

Once Ritsu has sneaked past his parents’ room and dumped his bag in his (as predicted, completely unchanged) room, he collapses onto the sofa with them, infinitely grateful for a chair that wasn’t actively trying to murder his back. For the rest of the train ride back, he’d had the good sense to shove another hoodie in between his neck and the window, and it had served as a pillow well enough, but God, his neck was killing him. Well, at least he’d come out of it better off than the businessman, who’d walked off of the train with an imprint of a keyboard on his forehead. Teru curls the other end of the sofa and Mob sits in the middle between them, pulling a pillow into his lap. Ritsu flops down with his head on it, scooching around until he’s mostly comfortable.

The silence that falls over the room is drowsy and comfortable, despite the muffled screaming coming from the television set. He knows that when his parents wake up in a few hours, there’ll be a barrage of hugs and wet kisses and questions about his school and his dorm and his grades and his friends, and a thousand other things that had always seemed so important this last year, when they took up every waking moment of his time, but thinking back now, feel so minuscule and pointless, just part of the drivel of everyday life. So for now, he’s content to let his eyes glaze over until the light from the TV fades into a blue haze that fills the room and lulls him into a sense of nothingness. He must fall into that grey area between asleep and awake, because at some point he becomes aware that Mob and Teru are talking, but he only catches snippets, keeps drifting off too much to follow the flow of the conversation. He catches, “-opening up the office this week? Shishou said…” from his brother, and something like “Ugh, please, no,” from Teru. Mob comments at some point on Ritsu falling asleep, and he’s not, not quite, but he’s also not nearly awake enough to dispute the fact. The only time he properly wakes up is when he feels Teru’s socked toes poking his head, playing with his hair. “-have got to cut this,” he’s saying, and his voice is soft and syrupy-slow, so Ritsu guesses he’s not too far off from sleep himself. “I mean, I know he’s got college and everything, but would it kill him to buy a pair of scissors?” Ritsu attempts to respond, but he all that comes out of his mouth is a series of jumbled word-sounds that are half-muffled by the cushion in his face, so he has to take a moment to blink himself awake and reorient himself before he can mumble, “I did trim it.” It’s not his fault if his hair is gravity’s natural enemy. And sure, he could actually get himself a proper haircut in between breaks, but in his defense, he doesn’t have to pay Teru.

“This is it trimmed? I’m actually scared to imagine you growing it out.”

Ritsu makes a noncommittal hmm noise, just for the sake of acknowledging that something was said. He blinks slowly at the wall on the other side of the room, having to take a moment to remember where, exactly, he is. The TV has been turned off at some point, so the only light in the living room is coming from the windows, whatever muted grey light has managed to slip above the horizon and filter through the clouds. It’s not quite dawn yet, Ritsu thinks, but it will be soon. He thinks he could probably get up now, maybe should get up, and weighs the option in his mind. Pros: good coffee and food in the kitchen. Actually being awake at a normal time to talk to everyone today. Cons: this sofa is very comfortable and warm. He manages to make himself turn his head to look up, and sees that above him, his brother is either already asleep, or most of the way there. Listening carefully, he can hear Teru’s breathing shift into something that’s just a little too close to snoring to be conscious. The movement, however small, makes something twist in his stomach and crawl up his throat, the weird sort of nausea that screams too early! Waaaaay too early! Well, if nobody else is awake…

—

He actually, properly, really wakes up to the sound of his mother talking, and the smell of something sweet filling the house.

“Shigeo, close the bedroom doors, or the whole house will smell like cinnamon!” Teru shouts back, “You say that like it’s a bad thing!” and Ritsu hadn’t realized that Teru was still on the sofa with him, so it almost scares him out of his skin. He feels toes poking at his head again, sharper jabs than earlier, and he has to take a moment to admire his brother’s willingness to compromise in a relationship, because really, even on a sofa, who sleeps in their socks? Teru’s voice is gentle when he speaks, as if he hadn’t just bellowed halfway across the house. “Hey, Ritsu, you should wake up. Your mom is making breakfast.” Ritsu rolls onto his back, groaning and blinking blearily at the ceiling as he listens to the distant sound of the bedroom doors shutting. Mob has somehow extracted himself from under Ritsu at some point, because his head is a lot lower than he remembers, and he can hear his voice from somewhere else in the house. Not loud enough to catch what he’s saying, but gentle and distinct enough to identify it as him. His mother’s response is drowned out by the clattering sound of a pan or a pot in the sink, but he’s guessing that Mob must’ve been sent to fetch them, because Ritsu hears, or… wait, no, more senses him approaching. He’s always had a little bit of trouble distinguishing his psychic sense from his physical ones when first waking up. He’s staring, eyes half-lidded, at a little dark speck on the off-white ceiling, so he can only really see a vague idea of Mob’s location as he comes up to the back of the sofa, leaning over to speak quietly to Teru. “Is he awake?” “I think so? His eyes are certainly open, but that doesn’t mean much with him, does it?” Mob laughs softly, more of a quick exhale than anything. “Not really. I’m setting the table. I’ll come and get you when it’s done.” He can’t be certain, but he’s pretty sure that Mob just leaned down to drop a kiss on Teru’s head, so he does his duty as a little brother and makes a face. It’s brattish, sure, and above his maturity level by far. He likes Teru quite a bit, and they’ve had mature, adult conversations in which Ritsu described in precise detail exactly what he would do to Teru if he ever hurt his brother intentionally, but, well. He did just finish his first year of college, so he’s reserving the right to be childish and annoying at least once. He leans his head back until he can make eye contact with Teru and stick his tongue out. Teru, smug bastard that he is, just raises an eyebrow and says, “Ah, I guess he is awake.”

Mob, still leaning over the back of the sofa, beams at him. “Ritsu! Morning. There’s French toast, are you hungry?” He hadn’t really noticed until this exact moment, but holy shit, he is starving. Sure enough, as soon as he steps foot near the dining table, his mother and father are all over him. He manages to get through his mother’s almost violent physical affection with minimal injuries, just by virtue of being much taller than her. His father’s bear hug, on the other hand, is a whole other ordeal. Still, he finds himself sat at the dining table with a plate in front of him, with Mob on his left, and Teru sat on the short end to his right. Despite quite a bit of it being about him, most of the conversation seems to pass right over his head, with Teru and his brother fending off most of his parents’ questions. Most of them seem to be just for the sake of chatting during breakfast, seeing as they already know what his roommates are like, how he likes his professors, and how he did on his finals. His mother had made a habit of calling him at least once every week while he was away, “just to check in”. It always feels like family dinners with Teru and his parents should be unspeakably awkward. Sure, his parents seem… okay with Mob and Teru, at least to their faces, although they seem convinced that either Teru and Mob are just really good friends, or that Mob is eventually going to get over this “phase of his” and marry that nice Takane girl he’d gone to school with. Bad enough that he’s not even going to school, he’d overheard his father say once, without this nonsense on top of everything else.

Still, Teru has something of an irresistible personality, a natural charm that has only grown under Reigen’s watchful eye. A single sentence and a sweeping gesture could enrapture a whole room, and he could talk you out of your life savings and leave you thanking him for it. Turning up the charm for his boyfriend’s parents is hardly any effort at all. Spirits and Such is lucky to have him. Ritsu is certainly grateful for the way Teru sends his parents’ questions flying back at them with a smile, leaving Ritsu to work his way through his toast and gulp down coffee until he feels at least marginally alive.

It also doesn’t hurt Teru’s case that he insists on helping to clear the table, and offers to do the dishes until Ritsu’s mother actually kicks him out of the kitchen.

Ritsu’s still feeling a little hazy; Shou has described jetlag to him, and although he knows it has to do with timezones, he’s starting to think it might also be a general lethargy that comes with travelling long distances. Still, he’s awake enough to thank his mother for breakfast, and walk through to help Teru and Mob to fold up just about every blanket in the house, and put them back in their rightful places. Ritsu ends up with an old fluffy blanket piled in his hands, bright green with little cows printed on it, and he’s already halfway through the door to Mob’s old room before he remembers that there’s no bedroom in here anymore. He squints at the makeshift studio, trying to recall what it had looked like before Mob had moved out. The bed had been by the closet… No, they’d moved it so it was by the window eventually, so he could keep it open during the summer. His desk had been replaced by a bigger one, with an old-looking sewing machine plugged in on top of it. He feels like the room had been so much bigger when his brother had been in it, although, admittedly, he hadn’t had much stuff to fill it with. Now, between the desk, the piles of fabric heaped around the room, the… well, he assumes they’re quilts… it feels cluttered. Unfamiliar, certainly. Where did this stuff even come from? I don’t recognize any of it. “Ritsu?” Mob’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he makes his way quickly back to the living room, pausing to shove the blanket into a hall closet as he passes. Teru starts speaking to him as soon as he’s in the room, even as he’s simultaneously typing on his phone at a frankly alarming speed. “Oi, Ritsu. We’re not opening the office this week, but we should probably head over there later today. That way, you can see Da- uh, Reigen, and I’ll take care of your hair quickly. Get it over with, you know? We can go out to lunch and stuff afterwards.” That last bit strikes Ritsu has odd, said with a tone that’s just barely on-edge, like Teru thinks he needs some incentive to go out with them. Still, it probably doesn’t really matter. He’s probably just trying to think of a way to get Ritsu to agree to eat at one of the bizarre, alleged ‘restaurants’that he seems to frequent. So, Ritsu sits down on the sofa beside Teru, saying, “You just can’t stand to look at my bangs falling in my face anymore.” Teru neither confirms nor denies, just keeps typing, which is enough of an admission in itself. “Yeah, sure, sounds like a plan. I just need to shower and stuff first.” Teru nods. “Yeah, Mob’s already getting ready. I was thinking we set off in, oh, forty-five minutes?” “Alright.”

#/#//#///#////#/////#robin fic #mp100 fic #fic: aubade

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crackspinewornpages · 6 years ago

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The Humanoids 30/30 -Jack Williamson

Forester looks at his hands compared to the Humanoids’ they were old, painful and now useless. Jane keeps insisting he did it all with his mind. He glances at desk and sees books printed from Starmont, one by him on rhodomagnetic coefficients but never published because of the censorship. Jane keeps telling him he did it with his mind by thinking about how he wanted things to be, she watched him do it. (when? all you did was complain about being cold) Forester starts to believe her, he just doesn’t understand how it all came to be. Looking out into the cold world thinking about how much he knows about the science of transmutation he can’t fully understand this. Probability would explain some things it just doesn’t explain how the mind could grasp it. Defeatedly he accepts that he did it but just not knowing how and agrees with Jane to try to help White.

Suddenly, it comes to him, right before he was thinking of the Prima Materia the equivalence. He starts to explain it but Jane can’t follow cause she never went to school. (what ever happened to the “no child left behind” act?) Forester tries to write down the equation but it seems he has already forgotten it. (just like me and all the formulas when I take a math test) He keeps working at it until he is able to appear and disappear a nugget of palladium. He sends it back out to briefly form a blue star on the hills. “I teleported the nugget out in space, and set it off. An eight-ounce supernova! That’s our weapon.” p.261 Forester makes a plan to first get rid of Ironsmith and his fellow cohorts. (you ever hear the saying “don’t press your luck”? nobody knows where you are you can create supernovas on a mere thought but instead of buying your time to strike no you walk straight into the lion’s den) Jane agrees with Forester to fight Ironsmith, (she did say she never went to school) “He seems so terrible now, not a bit like he used to be. He doesn’t really seem to be quite human anymore.” p. 261(you don’t say?)

Forester starts to jabber on about the concept of clairvoyance and how it’s possible to use it to find Ironsmith. Forester attempts it and succeeds, seeing Ironsmith in the past before the machines but falters a bit when he also sees Ruth. Then he finds the den of the traitors but doesn’t understand their Compact. Ironsmith isn’t there but Forester believes he’s on Wing IV but wasn’t able to check for very long. “The psychophysical energy of that mechanical brain,”- “reaching out to operate every man alive- and already terribly strong.” p.264 He looked ahead though and knows where to wait, where the Humanoids are paying off the human traitors, their own planet. An old world devastated by atomic wars hundreds of years ago. One that the Humanoids have since cleaned up. Ironsmith wasn’t the first traitor. Forester doesn’t know if there are any hidden traps to set off weapons (like I said you barely know anything you need time to track them and their weaknesses and make a plan) but they also don’t understand mass detonation. (…really?) He still hopes to kill Ironsmith (yay!) and any others that resist (…um) and force the Humanoids to give men a better deal. (…yay!)

After a while Jane says she’s hungry and Forester takes her to the kitchen where his mind already fixed a meal. While she’s eating, he goes to see himself in the bathroom mirror, haggard and in ragged clothes he can’t take off without Humanoids. (considering all he’s been through I’m surprised he doesn’t look worse) Back in the cupola they have five minutes. He tries to explain teleportation but she doesn’t understand, (“If you can’t explain it to a six year old, you don’t understand it yourself.”- Albert Einstein) she still trusts Forester though, as they turn towards the galaxy.

Instantly they arrive at the traitors’ planet of green hills and blue skies. They’re inside a war museum. (that actually sound pretty cool. wish we had one here in Ohio) As they walk Forester stops at the cases of weapons, one of them has a rhodomagnetic missile he made. He had suspected Ironsmith of looting but he didn’t know why. (weren’t you at war at the time? think, what reason would someone have to steal top secret weapons?) As he stares, Jane watches a butterfly that wandered in fly around until Forester tests the detonation equation on it. (dick) because it reminded him of Ironsmith. “And I suppose that butterfly reminded me of Frank Ironsmith-so lazy and so useless and so brilliant.” p.267 (watch it that a dangerous road to sociopathy) He takes her behind a rusty battle scared tank to wait for Ironsmith.

They see two people walking in the hills without Humanoids assistance but a ship from Wing IV was off in the distance. Jane begs him not to hurt them, Forester ‘s excuse is that they’re the enemy. (and that thinking right there is when you have no morals left and have reached the point of no return for your humanity) They watch the couple walk up to the stream and start building a house out of nothing and without tools. Forester theorizes they have found the Prima Materia (dude you really need to move on) and uses the ferromagnetic, rhodomagnetic and plantinomagnetic energies to shape their desires. (so by that theory I could think hard enough and get limitless lasagna?)

Jane points him to another person walking up, an old white-haired man with gnarled hands (hm wonder who this could be) who stops on the steps of the museum. The old man watches the couple until they complete their building. They greet each other and the man walks up to meet him and the older man says. “Well, Ironsmith? How’re you doing with your grid?” p.264 Ironsmith says he’s done and it can be used to track down Forester and if it works the same way it did with White and his gang, “I don’t think even such unfortunate cases will ever be dangerous again.” p.264 Upon hearing that Forester tries to detonate him but nothing happens, but he also can’t kill Ruth. Suddenly the woman calls out for her darling and tells him she’s happy he’s home, the woman is Ruth. Angered by her being all lovey dovey with Ironsmith (gag) Forester hobbles between the pillars of the museum.

Forester tells Ruth to get away from Ironsmith. The three of them turn to Forester alarmed (tonight on Cheaters) and Ruth shocked and hurt asks what he’s doing here. (what the hell do you think he’s doing here lady?) Forester limps towards them with Jane trailing behind he tells them they better listen because he can follow them across the universe now and has a better weapon than the ones Ironsmith stole. (you know how villains do an evil plan reveal before they try and fail to kill the hero? yeah the hero shouldn’t reveal his world saving plans to the villain either) Ironsmith defends himself, that those missiles are useless now and while they once served a purpose the Triplanet Powers are no longer aggressive with the Humanoids running everything. (doesn’t matter you still stole top secret government material) Forester tells them to watch a rock in the distance as he explodes it. Ironsmith murmurs that he’ll protect them from the radiation and puts a screen around it. The old man scolds Forester that sea birds nested on that rock (what is he a Planeteer?) Forester watches the mushroom cloud plume up and the other three are unimpressed. (considering they can make houses on a whim I guess turning rocks into atom bombs don’t rate)

Ruth asks Forester what does he think he’s doing? (I don’t know, considering his perspective, saving humanity) He responds he knows what he’s doing. (uh, no you kinda don’t, you don’t really have a plan and now you’re practically throwing a tantrum) Then says he’s going to stop their plans with the Humanoids and their Compact, fight the machines for a better deal, “-to give every man, everywhere, the same freedom a few of you have sold us out to get.” p. 273 He’s going to bargain with the others but Ironsmith has done too much so he’s going to kill him. (you sly dog, you had me monologuing) Then he asks if Ironsmith has anything to say.

Ironsmith tells him to specify the charges. (any other character this could have been a badass line but Ironsmith is just an unlikable smartass) Forester then lays out all the charges. Turning against mankind to help the Humanoids. Spied on Starmont, sabotaged Project Thunderbolt, (since these are a government run area and project, yeah big crime) betrayed White and the effort to change the Prime Directive. And then building the brain to operate men like machines. (anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law) Forester says he knows those are crimes and won’t asks how long Ironsmith plotted to take Ruth since compared to everything else it doesn’t matter.(yeah that’s not really a crime it’s just really immoral and a big reason why I hate him) Then he asks for Ironsmith’s defense.

Forester tells Ruth to get away from Ironsmith because he doesn’t want to hurt her. With their lives some of the blame is his, (a little? you two need to go to couple’s counseling) but he doesn’t want to hurt her. She tells him to stop being ugly (uh people can’t really help that) he has to let them help him because he can’t really hurt them. Forester stood there paralyzed with rage and pain as Ruth gazed with devotion at Ironsmith (gag) and then with pity at Forester. She asks him to see it their way, there’s nothing wrong with Frank, (uh yeah there is that guy’s a fucking manipulative psycho) there is nothing to blame but Project Thunderbolt. “I was always sorry for you Clay, and I used to be sorry for myself. Because the project was your wife and your child, you never needed me.” p.274 (ouch) Ironsmith wouldn’t take her away from Starmont until Forester had abandoned her there drugged with Euphoride to go off on his insane adventuring. (uh he kinda didn’t have a choice there, also doesn’t it seem a bit suspicious that Ironsmith didn’t “save” you until Forester was gone?) Ironsmith took her and woke her up and taught her about this felicity. They’re in love (didn’t you just say you were drugged? what make you believe he doesn’t have you under some kind of control now?) and hoped Forester would wish them well. Forester shouts no. (as any reasonable person given these details would agree with) Forester then pushes Jane behind him and tries to kill both Ruth and Ironsmith. (you don’t take rejection well do you?)

They don’t explode and Ruth shakes her head sadly. Forester looks for another rock to blow up and the old man tells him to stop because he can’t hurt anyone with psychophysics. He tells Forester to not be alarmed and there’s no need to retaliate. He tells Forester that he overlooked a basic fundamental that the psychophysical functions are mostly unconscious and control requires long training to remove interfering conflicts. Though Forester did surprise them. “It is a rare thing that a mind divided by such savage conflicts as yours is able to attain any conscious psychophysical control at all.” p. 275 The old man’s theory is that Forester is gifted in physics and math with psychophysical compensation for handicaps in those under intense emotional distress. (get a therapy dog) But Forester shows no real understanding that psychophysical energy can’t be used for destructive purposes. (tell that to the Humanoid Jane killed or the butterfly Forester murdered) It is creative, the mother of suns and galaxies, brings water to planets, gives way to evolution, it is mind. (do you want to join my religion? what’s your religion? *this* I’m not interested) Even molecules are mind, every atom. Some of them are even trying to perceive God. (they goin’ get their eyes burned out)

Forester tried to listen to the old man’s spiel but it was too vague (yeah very cultish). In the attempts to kill them he’s killing himself, Forster’s knee buckles and the old man helps him down on the steps. Then the old man tells him control requires the whole mind anyone who found peace wouldn’t be able to commit murder as creative energy can’t destroy itself. (so if he follows that conservation law he could technically destroy them like AM did with the last humans in I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream) “You imagined you were fighting for the public good,”-“That creative purpose-however mistaken-explains what you did accomplish. Didn’t you have most of your success with projects entirely creative?” p.277 Considering what happened on the frozen planet Forester agrees. The old man points out that it was a creative project but he failed now because he tried to be destructive. (he was already destructive, the rocks the butterfly ect)

Forester pulls Jane close to him. Ironsmith says he can’t hurt them, he might have taught Forester that difference if he was less obsessed with missiles and more trusting in the Humanoids. (well considering the circumstances, fuck you) Ruth pleads with him to stop hating, that his mind is sick and love will cure him, (and that right there is brainwashed cult talk) Forester thinks he’s happy for her but their past is gone now and he doesn’t even want to even think of her. Forester mutters understanding and Ruth is happy that they can help him with Ironsmith’s new grid. Forester is confused but Ironsmith explains they’ll take care of him they designed installations for troublesome cases like his. His eyes gaze off towards the museum that gaze sends chills and sends Forester back to the time on Wing IV and he decides he doesn’t want their help. (yeah when you see someone’s eyes and it feels like the same coldness you’d get if you met Ted Bundy or Charles Manson get the fuck away from them)

As Ironsmith remarks that it will be ready soon, Forester takes Jane and starts to run. He tells her to go back alone to their hideout on the planet he has to blow this one up. Jane begs him not to saying Ironsmith really isn’t that bad. That almost makes Forester stop (it’d make anyone stop wtf? why would she say that?) but he continues to the top of the steps. He sees a rhodomagnetic detonator, smaller than his fist but big enough. (it’s not the size that matters it’s what you do with it that counts) The three didn’t move to stop him. Just as Jane is begging him not to do it, Forester tripped and falls. Dazed and subdued by pain and failure all Forester hears is Jane crying the old man calling for him to wait for the grid. (well they’re boned)

Forester tries to get up but the old man tells him to stay down, hasn’t he made enough mistakes? (well considering you’re all still alive…) Forester notices that Ironsmith and Ruth are gone and the old man says they went back to Wing IV to the grid’s control room the Humanoids can’t get in. Forester with blood running down his face waits trying to comfort Jane. “For the trial was over. The verdict guilty. The sentence was death- by a very special sort of gallows, which made a mechanized puppet of the victim.” p. 281 Jane assures him that the machine doesn’t hurt the old man agrees it doesn’t hurt it heals. (is he the cult leader?) He wants to help Forester he once also attempted to fight the Humanoids and change the Prime Directive. He’s Dr. Warren Mansfield. (what? no really? totally didn’t see that coming)

Forester is shook with the revelation muttering that a Mansfield made the Humanoids. Mansfield says that was him, his desire to save man. “I built the Prime Directive into the relays that govern them, and protected it from change-and tried mistakenly to change it.” p.281 Behind Mansfield, Forester could see the detonator but pain prevented him from getting up. Mansfield calls it a common error, the cause he believes is a want of philosophy. (the cause is not wanting to be kept in a gilded cage and slowly have our wills to live broken) He fortunately failed to blow up Wing IV thirty years ago, ruled by ego instead of intelligence and had freedom before he earned it and forgot the reason for the Humanoids.

He tells Forester to stop moving the grid will soon fix what’s wrong with him, he himself wasn’t so lucky thirty years ago. Forester is confused, White told him Mansfield was exiled from Wing IV and was hunted from planet to planet and asks if he truly didn’t trust them. He didn’t and Forester demands to know why he sold out humanity, Mansfield says no one sold anyone out he simply changed then tells him his story. (oh boy here goes a long info dump) Thirty years ago there was no grid, psychophysical properties were unknown to the Humanoids and they had to operate. They removed the part of his memory that was dangerous to the Prime Directive but it did give him freedom. (considering it practically changed your personality 180 degrees and you now praise the Humanoids like a god that’s not really freedom) Forester asks if they operated on Ironsmith too or if it was a deal. Mansfield says there are no deals he just designed very good psychologists. They can see whose harmless and who’s not. (apparently they’re not that great since Ironsmith is on their side)

Mansfield was free after the operation, free to carry out his research barring physical sciences because of the dangers (but that’s part of the fun) but parapsychology was open. He was a skeptic, some rebellion against love and creative power he thinks. (or simply because for a scientist there is no definitive proof of its existence?) Without that bit in his brain it unlocked psychophysical abilities, telepathy came first, then he met the other philosophers. Forester asks philosophers or traitors? Mansfield asks if this planet looks like a den of treason? (well people do tend not to shit where they sleep) This is a Psychophysical Institute formed seventy years ago by a few men the Humanoids released that found the truth in the science of the mind, telurgy-the metal transmutation of mass, (you mean alchemy?) what Forester used on that planet. They found each other on different planets and came together and developed clairvoyance to warn them of fanatics dangerous to Wing IV.

The Compact was made to warn the Humanoids of danger in exchange for the tolerance of the Institute. (tolerance? well I guess they weren’t really that free after all) Forester sits higher against the tank eyes darting back to the weapons displays. Mansfield continues that part of the Institute was to collect reminders of the enemy. “For life hurts everyone, many of us badly. The wounds must heal before we are actually adult. Some recover easily, most of us slowly. A few are deformed beyond any natural cure. The first great goal of our new psychology has been to mend much mental injuries, safely and completely.” p.285 This is now possible with Ironsmith’s new grid. Forester tried to listen but his injuries keep distracting him (yeah adrenalin crash is a bitch) as he tried not to look directly at the detonator. Mansfield goes on that he wants Forester to understand, that their motions were for good and that while Forester doesn’t like the Humanoids the only alternative was death and he wants to show him a change they’ve already made for human progress. Forester stills.

According to Mansfield technicians like Forester had destroyed civilization. “Technology had got out of step with mentality.” p.286 (the Vulcans had a similar problem and they too embraced philosophy but they did it of their own will and those that didn’t left the planet) That’s why he built the Humanoids, to put the technicians on vacation until philosophers could restore society. (to build and maintain society you need more than people who think up deep stuff see? your philosophy is already flawed) Still unhappy men like Forester and White went to parapsychology but didn’t truly understand it since they’re not philosophers. But since they didn’t want the Humanoids to give them time and only wanted weapons they failed. (they didn’t want weapons you idiot they wanted freedom to make their own choices it was people like you who didn’t leave them with any other option but violence)

Then he starts kissing Ironsmith’s ass, admiring his type, that made the Institute and makes a remark that he probably never got much success at Starmont and was considered a bum. Forester agrees Ironsmith is useless except for his skills at math. Mansfield says Ironsmith found himself when the Humanoids came and let him be free at the Institute. Now he’s designing relays, a brilliant psychophysical engineer and philosopher. (you’re one of those “My Child is an Honor Student at ---- Academy” bumper sticker people aren’t you?)

Forester points out the grid is the god they spoke about to run men everywhere like machines. Mansfield wants him to understand that society needs to train its members, reclaim maladjusted, dangerous individuals before they hurt someone and all be educated by the grid. (sounds a lot like Third Reich talk to me) Forester tells him he saw what it did to White, a meat puppet controlled by relays. Forester doesn’t want that but he runs out of breath before he can finish speaking. Mansfield calls him closed minded. (a person that points out flaws in your belief isn’t closed minded they’re just looking at the facts) The grid is just another tool the Humanoids use to serve men. It’s more than some mystic god. It’s an instrument to focus the psychophysical energies, a vehicle for the human mind. It’s not destructive since its purpose is creativity, (then why did Ironsmith mention that Jane was going to get killed? hm?) the power democratic as it will unite the minds of all people who have been lost to hate and share its direction.

Mansfield starts to raise his voice in passion. The mind as a new step in evolution of intelligence. It follows the creation of atoms to the development of the mind and no one knows what’s beyond that. “You’re sick Forester. You need the grid-as most men do. Because the whole race was sick on my old world and yours.” p.288 (definitely sounds like something a sane rational person would say) He believes the cause was run away technology, even calling it a cancer but the Humanoids removed it and with Ironsmith’s grid will keep the balance. He suddenly breaks off and smiles and Forester follows his eyes to see Ironsmith walking towards them. He tells them Ruth is on duty and they’re reaching more and more minds. He then glances down at Forester and asks if he’s ready. (ready to kick your smug arrogant ass? yes)

Against the tank too painful to move and Jane (oh yeah she’s still in the story) whimpering beside him Forester knew he was condemned and Ironsmith was his executioner, all he could do was wait for the brain (I swear every time I see this word I hear Brains! by Voltaire) to seize him. Jane startles him by whispering she knows how to help him now. (really cutting it close there) He watches as she sneaks the detonator in his hands, He positions his thumb on the firing bar and tells Jane to save herself. She nods and he presses the button, the last act of defiance and defense for humankind a detonating field that would unstable all mass within fifty yards and shatter the planet. (“Do it! Just do it!!!”- Shia LaBeouf) He stops his thumb. (what the fuck are you waiting for?! this is practically the only good reason someone has to press the button!)

He doesn’t know why, he tells Jane to put it back. Ironsmith says he can tell him why, he really doesn’t want to and despite himself he’s starting to love. (I wouldn’t call it love I’d call it more sense of self preservation and realization of the weight of his actions) That had been the test, overwhelmed with apathetic frustration (I now know what to call this feeling) Forester refuses to admit it. Defeatedly he tells them to go ahead as he sobs waiting for the grid. (our hero ladies and gentlemen, giving up under the crushing weight of defeat)

Forester then finds himself in a bathroom at Starmont and Jane is gone. At first he’s repulsed by the Humanoid then it dissolves into admiration at its perfection and his initial reaction puzzles him. (my god he’s been brainwashed) He asks if the brain took Jane, it responds Jane needed special service and was admitted the same time he was. Forester is in disbelief, he doesn’t remember anything, the Humanoid assures him nobody remembers the grid as all consciousness is suspended. (I still don’t know it this is better or worse, on one hand you don’t feel pain on the other your forced into coma and basically lobotomized) Forester shakes off his dread, the grid is a tool of goodwill by the people who love him, why would anyone fear it? (yeah he’s brainwashed) He asks what happened to him and is told it repaired and retrained him. He feels his head and finds no trace of his previous head injury and demands to see a mirror. The Humanoid presses a button that men can also use and the luminous wall becomes a mirror. Forester is healthier, no worry lines, he has hair, he’s now wearing a button up blue suit he can remove and even his knee has been healed.

All this time the Humanoid doesn’t respond and Forester tests it by poking it then slapping its ass (is he a closeted robosexual?) it doesn’t respond. He wonders how long the grid was teaching him, how long was he out, he had no sense of time, yet his fears feel silly. (there is a reason people feel afraid, losing your sense of time and not know what happened to you is a good reason) Apprehension causes him to ask about Jane, is she still under the grid? He’s then told she woke up three years ago. Forester is shocked but can’t remember anything. He asks where she is and is told she’s traveling, he wants to see her and is told he could probably get information from one of her associates, Ironsmith, Mansfield or White. He asks where they are and is told Ironsmith is at the Institute and Mansfield and White are at Dragonrock. Forester is relieved White is off the grid and is informed he is on his way here. His voice catches when he asks about Ruth and is told she is with Ironsmith and Forester doesn’t feel anything from this. (should be a warning sign, people don’t over someone stealing their spouse when it practically happened yesterday for them) She did send him a gift, though. (is it Ironsmith’s head on a silver platter?)

He is handed a plaque that reads, “Dearest Clay, -We’re delighted that you’re well again, and we both rejoice in the new felicity you should discover now. Ruth and Frank.” p. 295 She used her pet word, felicity. He tells the Humanoids to tell them his thanks and he wishes them happiness. (pretty big heal turn from the last time you were together you were about to blow her up) They are telling them now and inform him there is a picture, he wants to see it. He does and it presses a button on the plaque so the green printing dissolves and reveals a window to show a moving picture (like the photos in Harry Potter) of Ruth and Ironsmith coming out of the Institute waving at him before the photo ends and they vanish. Forester thinks that Ruth never looked so young, light and free, not even on their wedding. (how haggard was she at her wedding? isn’t supposed to be like one of the best days of your life?) He tells the Humanoids to tell them he’s happy to see their felicity. Then he asks for them to put the picture away and open the window.

The Humanoid presses another button and the mirror/wall becomes transparent. They point out White’s cruiser landing but Forester’s instead gaping at the landscape he last knew as a desert now a thick forest with blue lakes and dotted with villas. (and nature conservationists everywhere just collectively had a seizure) He breathes out how long? (Robin Williams voice “What year is it?”) Then he catches sight of White just as he lands and gets out without Humanoid assistance. White calls out to him then comments on his confusion of the landscape saying he knows how he feels. Forester asks him how long it’s been and is told it’s the fiftieth Awakening day. “That’s the day the grid releases its yearly crop of graduates, ready for independent life,” p. 297 (like it’s a damn machine growing humans) White also tells him it’s a bit of a holiday and they all have a party for him at Dragonrock, Mansfield, Ford, Graystone and Overstreet finished a year ago and will be there. Forester asks about Jane again and is told she’s not there but they’ll go join her and she’s changed from the ragged street urchin she was. Forester comments she must have grown up then wonders what the grid changed about her. (well considering you probably made her healthy but also warped her mind to unyielding fealty to the Humanoids)

Then Forester asks where they’ll join her and is told it’s about a million light years from here somewhere in the Andromeda Galaxy. She explores planets for colonization and she’s waiting at the site she picked for their first installation. Forester comments that’s a long way to go but White says that’s no barrier to them. (roads where we’re going we don’t need roads) The only problem is rhodomagnetic beams can’t travel that far so they’ll be the first settlers without any Humanoid assistance. No big struggle Forester delights, and says he’d like to stay there. White assures him he will that’s why they kept him in the grid so long, so that he could receive training for his job out there. (what is my purpose? serving your robotic god and its goal of assimilating every living being under their thrall and care)

The site Jane picked is for the new rhodomagnetic grid for the beginning of Humanoid service for Andromeda pioneers (isn’t this imperialism? you plant your people on another’s home and force them to adhere to your ways) and Forester was chosen to assemble and tests the first relays. (chosen for the job? or gotten rid of?) Forester keeps wondering why he keeps having aborted thoughts and actions of fear, pain and hostility. He never knew a time where he disliked or mistrusted the Humanoids or Ironsmith. What memories he has are clear misguided emotions that drove him to actions that were unfortunate but even those are fading away like a dream. (and steadily we are losing what made our MC our MC and them not even realizing it)

Once the ridiculous thoughts came to him that he would be reluctant to help the Humanoids colonize other planets he would dismiss it. “For why shouldn’t the wise benevolence of the Prime Directive be extended as far as men could go? How could the colonists care for themselves, without mechanicals?” p. 298 (uh I don’t know? maybe actually learn how to care for themselves and not suffer from ineptitude and incompetence) A few gifted individuals may be able to provide for themselves but what about everyone else? White asks if he’s ready since Jane is waiting. Forester glances back at the alert Humanoid behind him, it would be useless until new relays were built but Forester wanted it with him until he had to leave. (ah, codependency at its finest) He orders it to follow. “Obediently it came, and he turned with a bright expectation on his face to go aboard with White.” p. 299 (and that right there is true horror, you, the audience, knows humanity is doomed but the character we’ve been following doesn’t, they don’t even know they failed and are now blindly loyal to the oppressors)

FIRST

#jack williamson #the humanoids #book summaries #scifi

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gary36 · 6 years ago

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GM IV: Garden & Moore

The fastest way to the Moore building on foot was the trails. I kept a hard pace. Kyrie wasn't there to do it for me. When I have a comrade the dark is nothing to me. When I am alone the shadows are alive. I do not look at them. It is not helpful. Dawn broke but I could not see the sun for dark clouds and green canopy. My body was falling apart. I had never walked so far. A kind of tired determination settled on me. I went on pretending to be fearless and the trail got steep and narrow. Something snagged my ankle and I tripped. I barely cought myself on all fours. When I looked at my feet I saw the root I stumbled across arching out of the dirt. Worse by far, I saw a jagged metal shadow. A bear trap right underneath my stomach. If I hadn't tripped I would have been caught in it. If I hadn't put out my hands just so, I would have been mangled by it. It was inches away. I could barely see it. I held perfectly still for a time, until my torso ached from being so tense. I threw myself to one side and hoped for the best. I rolled across the rough and wild ground. With my heart beating out of my chest I layed on my back breathing heavy. I very carefully stood up and peered into the dark. I saw nothing else around me but I heard life in the trees cracking the the wood and padding the ground and chittering to itself. The trap was there a few feet away, I saw no others but couldn't trust that judgement. I didn't know what to do. Any step might dismember me. Going forward I could pass more, equally I might have been lucky and passed many on the way. I had no reason to believe there would be less off the beaten path. I wanted to disarm the one I saw but couldn't tamper with it in the dark without putting my limbs at risk. I remained posted, wide-eyed.

I eventually decided to to move slowly onward by sliding my feet. I estimated I was closer to the end of the trail than the beginning. It was painfully slow. I was throbbing all over with pain and wet with morning dew. I shivered and folded my arms. Soon the dark clouds grew angry and I heard thunder. The wind smelled like rain a minute or two before the bottom fell out. I was numb, stiff, shaking, and soaked in no time. I did not lift my feet or increase my speed. I just shuffled and tried not to think about the cold. I couldn't feel time passing anymore.

I made it at last to a sound barrier for the interstate. I didn't notice any traps the rest of the way but that was almost more unnerving. With a fair bit of difficulty I mantled the sound barrier. The interstate was dark and silent save for the pouring rain. I steeled myself and ran through six empty lanes. No one. Nothing.

Over on the opposite side was a small buffer, a fence, and the palpable aura of the Moore building. I hopped the fence and stood on its grounds.

The field around the Moore building is lush and green and tall, broken only by ancient trees and low decrepit stone structures I could no interpret. I felt more than alone. I felt the eyes of history. Frozen to my core I skulked towards the back entrance of Moore.

The steeple was quiet. The dilapidated sandstone seemed rippling and rigid as if grown and not assembled by men. I hadn't been so close since I was a child. The years were unkind to the structure and the grounds, yet somehow not much had changed. The rain drove me inward, gave me no choice. I bounded for the heavy oak door in the back. Without hesitation I flung the door open to be free of the icy water. I heard a metallic rattling as the door moved. I saw where it had been chained before someone else had cut their way in, maybe years ago. The inside was cavernous and beckoning. The empty hallways starred at me. The wooden floor creaked as I stepped inside and my every instinct told me to leave. There was no turning back. I was sure Adella was there. The frigid torrent outside trapped me in regardless.

As I tried to be stealthy I felt louder. I felt surrounded. Everywhere I went rain dripped off of me. I couldn't make out the details but all manner of junk blocked my path. Squatters and litterbugs of all varieties had passed through the Moore. Old rat infested furniture, paper from all walks of fast food, even some suspicious needles were scattered all about the wood floors and antique cabinets. I checked several large rooms and a couple closets but still no sign of Adella. I found myself in the verile kitchen shivering and jumping at every shadow, unblinking. Ahead of me were the winding stairs upward. I ascended slowly and deliberately. The wooden stairs felt old. Each step was very tall and narrow so to balance required careful use of my hands. When I reached the next floor I saw something I never expected. I saw light spilling out from underneath a door. Just a warm colored line in the dark. My feet trampled their way over and I bit down against my quivering jaw and damned the cold.

I didn't knock. I opened the door and there she was. Adella sat behind a lit candle warming her hands. Her eyes darted around before lighting up with excitement. The smile on her face seemed long lost and divine. I moved in and smiled through the cold, water and dirt.

"Dell..." I said moving towards her.

"Hey..." She tried to say more but I took her into my arms.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine! You're soaking wet!"

Adella was so soft and her voice so smooth that I almost didn't notice, but I took a break from squeezing her and looked her in the eyes.

"Adella?"

"What?" She demanded as she tried to brush the cold off herself. Her eyes were alert, her movements complex and mesmerizing.

"You seem different..." I fumbled with my words "You're back to your old self."

Adella stopped drying herself and gazed at me as openly as I gazed at her. "Not my old self," she remarked "I'll never be my old self again. Not after living with the voices." She cast her eyes down. "I owe you and Kyrie so much for standing by me."

"Don't say that, please." I pleaded "You would do the same for us. Talk to me. What's going on?"

Adella turned her attention elsewhere "Get out of these wet clothes."

I looked around me at the tattered cloth, cobwebs, and dust "The only thing that would make this place scarier is being naked. I'll chance hypothermia."

"Don't be like that, just your shirt."

"But..." I couldn't think of a good argument, I was too chilly. I slipped my shirt off and went to hang it up. The Moore building wasn't so forbidden with Adella there. It was really her. I thought I'd never see her again. I grabbed us the two cleanest chairs and we sat down either side of the of the candle. Flame danced all over her. We looked at each other in tense silence before I spoke again "Adella, what happened?"

She looked down at the fire and gathered her thoughts. I reached out and grabbed her hands and moved up to clasp her forearms. She did the same to me. There we sat, getting warmer and locked together, when Adella spoke "Ever since..." I saw tears welling up in her eyes but she blinked them back and I just waited. "Ever since mother passed away, father has been spending almost all day and night in the garden. He works and works but he dresses for fine dining. He never sleeps and he keeps injuring himself. I try to talk to him but he becomes very irrate. He spent days and nights outback shaping hedges. He never stopped to eat or bathe. I was worried. When he quit going to work I asked him what he was thinking, he didn't even answer. I don't think he heard me. He set his shears down briefly and I burried them in the flower beds. He was furious. He began screaming and crying and breaking as many dishes as he could. He looked everywhere but he couldn't find them. I thought I'd won, but that night I saw him shaping hedges with his teeth. His mouth was bloody from chewing sticks and sharp thorns. I put the shears back where he'd find them. Since then he's only gotten worse and..."

"What is it?"

"And something is wrong with me." Her grip tightened on my arms.

"It's not your fault." I felt us there.

"Something is so wrong, but I can't explain. I don't know what to say." She took her hands back and wiped tears from her eyes.

"You don't have to say anything. I know you're going through something. I'm here for you no matter what."

"No." She asserted "It's unlike anything I could've imagined. At first, I just got migraine headaches. Then the thoughts started buzzing around in the back of my head. Not my thoughts. Echoes. Bits and pieces of everyone around me fighting for space. I had to leave myself behind to make room in my head. Now I don't always know what I'm doing or why."

"What happened last night? Why are we here Dell?"

"I felt like you and Kyrie were overwhelmed by me." Adella said glumly. "When I saw the look on your face I ran away. I couldn't stand anyone to know." She looked down. "I was headed out of town but I couldn't make it. It seemed like no matter where I went I kept driving past the Moore. I felt compelled to enter. As soon as I crossed the threshold I noticed something. Gradually, since I came here, my headaches have disappeared, and the voices are gone."

"We're going to get through this." I said fixated as I was on the other side of the candle and her beautiful features flickering in the dark. The storm raged outside. Lightning shattered the sky and shook the Earth. I worried about Suzie and Kyrie out on the water. "We can't leave now."

She nodded and then yawned.

I found a relatively fresh set of bed sheets in a dresser. They were finely woven and red. I spread them and stuffed them into a big clawfoot bathtub because it was the cleanest thing in the room. I rolled up some sheets for a couple pillows and presented my creation to Adella. She laughed, but she climbed in to get warm. The red sheets made her look like a queen. After much arguing I climbed in alongside her with my own set of sheets. It was a tight fit. We were both laughing. We talked. We talked about everything we couldn't talk about when Adella was battling her mind. We talked for hours. Eventually, we were both exhausted, whispering and mumbling to each other by the light of a short candle.

"You know this building goes all the way back to when the Spanish were first exploring the mainland?"

"Adella..."

"Mmmhhmm?"

"Do you remember when we first met?"

"Hhmmm..."

"I don't know exactly but I always wanted to tell you: For as long as I can remember I look in your eyes and I know there's whole universes living and dying inside you. I feel like my world is sliding past yours and I'm so lucky to ever even have glimpsed you like a meteor in the night. I never feel all alone anymore, and you're so real and alive it fills me with love and fear."

Adella breathed deeply a steadily in her sleep.

I smiled and closed my eyes. When I woke it was still storming. The candle was out. My fingertips barely graced her hair and she slept soundly. The Moore let her mind be still.

An eternity passed and I held perfectly still so it would last longer. Adella stirred. The rain was over. The sun was out. We both had to move. We gathered up everything and I put my still damp shirt on. "What will you do?" I asked her.

Adella fished out the keys to the Towncar and made her way downstairs. The Moore was still eerie, but easier to navigate in the light "I'm going home. I have to confront father once and for all. He took mother's portrait down from its spot over the fireplace, I cannot allow it."

"I'll go with you. He might do something rash." We clambered into the Towncar. It had become a beautiful day.

As we pulled out a sound cut through us both.

BAWNG BAAAAWNG BAAAWNNNG

We glanced at each other in shock. Both of us turned slowly to the steeple to see the percussionist, but the shadows were too dense. Adella punched the gas.

Adella drove safely and silently. Demeter road looked like something out of an old black and white film. Before we knew it Adella pulled up in her driveway. She shut off the car and groaned, grasping the bridge of her nose.

"What's wrong?"

"I thought I'd have more time." She said as she breathed deliberately in her nose and out her mouth. "It's coming back already." She looked at her home. "I hear something in there. Faint but persistent, like static on a TV."

I could tell the pain was splitting her head. We both moved for the front door. My heart was trying to escape and my hands were shaking. I was all messed up from the night before. Adella helped me find strength. We stood side by side and she knocked at the door. No answer. We waited a while. I think we were both terrified.

Adella opened the door and we saw the most bizarre thing.

The Montoya household, known for its art collection and conversation pieces, had been cleared out. Top to bottom. The only thing left was the old giraffe portrait over the fireplace. Everything else was new. New giraffe pattern couches. New giraffe pattern rug. New giraffe statues and statuettes of all sizes and styles. A mess of ripped and burnt cloth across the floor, a fire roaring out of control in the fireplace.

Adella and I stood frozen a while. Neither of us believing what we saw. Slack-jawed and trembling we crept to the kitchen.

Everything was gone. The drawers and cabinets left open and their contents mysteriously vanished only to be replaced with a hundred giraffe copies. Giraffe wine bottle holder, giraffe knife block, giraffe salt shaker, giraffe sippy cups for children. The floors and counters were covered in leaves.

Adella made for the back door, to the garden, I was right with her. What we saw was a nightmare.

Every hedge meticulously shaped into a perfect giraffe. The apricot tree was stripped bare of foliage. There, in the rose bushes, Adella's father lay squirming in a pool of his own blood. Giggling frantically to himself he flipped his head from one side to the other. All the more horrifying because his neck was as long as his arms and covered in bronze rings. Adella screamed.

Mr. Montoya laughed to himself and thrashed around in the thorns. I spoke but his voice was so hoarse I couldn't understand. I got closer. "...Perfect, you see?" He hissed from his hideously twisted neck. "The... Perfect... Giraffe." He giggled impishly "Your mother... Would be so proud... always her... favorite..." Mr. Montoya shuddered and his eyes became glassed over. He twitched a little more and this caused his bronze coated snake-like neck to undulate and toppled his head every which way.

Adella was in tears.

"How?" I asked no one. I looked at the rings on his neck and I knew they weren't there last night. I looked at his grotesque neck and knew it couldn't be. "How? It can't be real."

"No!" Adella cried and ran to the bushes. Amidst her father's warped body were many large containers of herbicide. All empty. The roses were turning brown. The petals rotting away. Adella screamed and ripped a rose from the bush with her bare hand. Blood leaked out where her fist clenched it, one of the last red buds. She frantically ran to the water faucet. She got a vase from inside.

"Adella!" I tried to get through to her.

She sobbed and set the vase in the sun once it was full of water. She wouldn't answer me but ran to the supply shed and came back with plant food.

"I'm begging you Adella, what's going on?"

When she spoke her voice cracked with pain. "I never told you."

"What?"

"I never told anyone. I thought they wouldn't believe me."

"Adella I believe you." I said wrapping my arms around her.

"I never told you how mother died."

"She was sick. Nothing could be done."

"No. She woke one morning with blood dripping from her fingernails. Then she cried red tears." Adella was gasping for air "She wouldn't see the doctor. I don't know why. Father told me it would pass. Told me not to worry. Mother refused to eat, she would only drink water. Day after day she got worse. Her skin took on a greenish tint. She sat for many hours in the garden. One day she refused to leave the garden. She grew flowers from her hair and fingertips."

"She what?" I said dumbfounded.

"She grew thorns from her skin."

"What?" I looked at Adella's father lying in the bushes with a smile on his face and his head hanging upside-down.

"Then one day mother was the rose bush. We pretended not to know."

#writing #ghost mold #sorry about the wait

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ma-ng · 8 years ago

Text

come back for me (iii)

chapters: i. , ii. , iii. , iv. , v.

ao3 link for those who prefer

this story is getting a lot of love and it's making me super happy!! it's a lot of fun to write even if i just want to get to the point where i can introduce all of gotbang's witchy peculiarities but!! pacing is good to. builds up expectation and giddiness lmao.

so here's chapter three!! and we get to meet everyone's favourite at the end~ yay for managing to worm another child in at the third chapter, haha.

iii. death

jinyoung’s gaze follows coco as the dog trots in, jumping up and placing her paws on his shin, tail wagging furiously until he pets her head. she gives a happy little bark and wanders further into the house, stopping at every single person in the room to say hello. when she arrives at her second owner, she refuses to leave mark alone until the man has scooped her up and held her close to his chest. she strains a little in his arms when she spies taehyung still wrapped up in his cocoon of blankets, and mark shifts close enough for taehyung to reach out a hand to let her sniff.

the thud of boots to jinyoung’s left has his gaze turning back to youngjae. the witch is struggling slightly with the laces and, honestly, the dream weaver doesn’t blame him much. it had started raining only a few minutes ago and already it looked dreary and freezing outside. he wouldn’t be surprised if he found out that his friend’s fingers were numb to the bone. when he drops slippers in front of youngjae’s socked foot, the witch in turn tils his head to give him a small smile.

a loud poof sounds behind him, followed by coughing and an indignant squawk from jaebum that he would later deny to within an inch of his life.

“oh, my god! jinyoung-hyung, you have honestly been so mean.”

jinyoung turns his head, intent on asking kunpimook what, exactly, he had been so mean about when he’s suddenly attacked by the sight of yellow. a bright yellow that smothers kunpimook’s torso and crawls up his neck. the sweater should be hideous — and honestly, if he saw it in a shop on a wrack he would be filled with the urge to burn every single last one of them — but somehow it doesn’t look hideous on kunpimook. only mildly disgusting.

youngjae seems to have managed to get his other boot off and stuff his feet into his slippers, as well as close the door behind him, because he’s walking past jinyoung and shooting kunpimook the most appalled look jinyoung has ever seen on his face. “never mind that, what are you wearing?”

and because it’s kunpimook, the man strikes a ridiculous pose, going so far as to include his legs in it to make him look like an obnoxious model, and sends youngjae a sultry look. “do you like it? it’s my own creation.”

“I think it’d look better if you take it somewhere that can unravel it,” jaebum butts in, arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to make everyone forget the squeal he’d made moments earlier. it doesn’t work, because jinyoung is sure that mark will use it as future blackmail, if the curve to his lips is anything to judge by. and if mark doesn’t, jinyoung might just have to.

“excuse you!” kunpimook gasps, dropping the pose to press a hand to his chest. “this is a masterpiece and I would like you to respect that!”

“guys,” mark says, absentmindedly stroking coco.

“by masterpiece,” jinyoung says, walking into the living room and stopping behind the sofa, leaning his hip against the back. “if you mean an actual disaster, then yes, it is a masterpiece.”

kunpimook’s jaw drops open, forcing his lips to make a perfect ‘o’, and his eyes narrow as he practically glares at the dream weaver. “park jinyoung,” he says slowly, dropping his hand and squaring his shoulders. “you did not just insult my hard work.”

youngjae blinks several times, eyes roaming over the sweater while jaebum points at it questioningly, and says, “that is hard work?”

“I cannot believe I am friends with all of you. none of you deserve me, I should just leave right now. I can see where I’m not wanted.” the thai witch jerks his chin up and spins around on his heels, disappearing round the corner down the hall

“guys,” mark tries once more.

“yugyeom! jackson-hyung! just the people I wanted to see!”

“bammie?”

“what are you wearing?”

“I made it myself! isn’t it pretty? I wanted to show off how good my ideas are but they don’t think I should have wasted time making it.”

“well…”

“guys!”

three heads snap to look at mark sat on the sofa, eyes wide and lips parted, as they take in the frown etched on the tattoo artist’s face. slowly, the three witches from the hallway emerge into the living room, their hands raised in surrender and eyes looking specifically for mark. when the six of them have their attention on the man, he leans back in his seat and tilts his head slightly.

“now,” mark says, raising his eyebrows. “can we get down to what you guys came over for?”

jinyoung’s eyes fall to taehyung. the five-year-old is paying little to no attention to the adults in the room, making him wonder if that’s because of the boy’s illness, too, or if his attention span is just that easily distracted by a soft, fluffy dog that keeps licking his hand whenever he tries to stop petting her and recluse back into his blanket fortress. a sigh leaves his lips and, before he knows it, he’s moved around the sofa to sit beside his foster child, crossing one leg over the other.

the others fall suit, sitting on the sofa where they can manage; which ends up with jackson practically forcing kunpimook to sit on his lap as he squidges in beside yugyeom on the two seater, jaebum dragging a dining chair over and youngjae quite content to just sit on the floor, leaning back on his hands.

mark’s eyes slide over every face in the room before he gives a triumphant nod, shifting back in his own seat and pulling coco away from taehyung so the boy doesn’t get distracted. “now, taehyung-ah.”

the five-year-old drags his hand back underneath his blankets and sits up a little straighter, looking up at mark with wide, watery eyes. “yeah?”

“do you think you can tell everyone what you told me a few minutes ago?” mark asks, not dropping eye contact with the boy. “about the woman?”

“okay,” taehyung says with a nod, he turns his head to look at jinyoung before he starts talking, voice ever so slightly nasal from the blocked nose he’s still sporting. “she says she doesn’t like talking to me. she says she wants to find someone older.” taehyung frowns as he gazes at jinyoung’s bewildered expression. “she’s wet and she won’t let me help her.”

jinyoung can’t look at anyone else for a moment, stunned by the idea that ten minutes ago taehyung had complained to mark about a woman while there was definitely no woman in sight in the whole apartment. there hadn’t been a woman in his flat since his mother visited for new years, giving him a surprise and gushing over the rest of his coven as much as she did over him.

“woman?” he finally manages, spying out of the corner of his eye as jaebum frowns, and yugyeom and jackson share a look between them. “what woman?”

taehyung doesn’t miss a beat, hand darting out to point just over jinyoung’s shoulder. “that woman.”

despite the feeling that he already knows what he’s going to see, jinyoung turns his head to gaze at the empty space behind him, eyes focusing on the sky outside his window and the rain hitting the glass. he turns back to look at the boy, who’s taking his hot chocolate from mark and sipping on it loudly.

“I don’t see a woman,” jinyoung admits tentatively, unsure how the child will take it.

taehyung blinks and pulls his mug away from his mouth. “it’s okay,” he says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. and, honestly, between witches, it probably should be. “mark-hyung says he can’t see her either.”

mark and jinyoung lock eyes over taehyung’s head, the tattoo artist shrugging one shoulder at the questioning look. of course, taehyung is a growing boy, a five-year-old witch. and, though it isn’t rare for children this young to start showing hints at what type of witch they might be, what their powers will revolve around, something about the whole situation seems a little more worrying than it should be.

“what does she look like, taehyung?”

the boy turns his head to look at youngjae, opening his mouth to speak. but instead, his jaw just hangs as he stares at the small dots, stars and feathers youngjae has tattooed onto the apples of his cheeks, following the curve of his eyes. although taehyung isn’t anywhere close enough to look upon them in small detail, the ink still manages to capture his attention until jinyoung gives him a nudge that he almost doesn’t feel thanks to his blankets.

“she’s got dark hair!” he blurts quickly, curling in on himself and hugging the mug closer to his chest. his cheeks colour a little in embarrassment. “she’s really wet and she shivers a lot. she keeps saying mean things to me,” he adds on, bottom lip slowly pushing out into a pout. “she doesn’t like me.”

jaebum’s eyebrows raise high before they fall into a frown. “she doesn’t like you.”

taehyung shakes his head. “she keeps saying she doesn’t want to talk to a kid. that I don’t get it.” the boy ducks his head even more, looking more than a little put out when he mumbles, “that I’m useless.”

the frown on jaebum’s face matches those on the other six adults in the room except for one. mark shifts a little in his spot, taking taehyung’s mug when it’s empty, and jinyoung wraps an arm around the five-year-old as well as he can, pulling the boy a little closer to him. the boy’s been here over a month now and jinyoung already feels his heart taking the child in with open arms. he should probably try and put some distance between the two of them, keep his feelings to something less familial, but it’s a struggle he doesn’t think he’ll win.

“you’re not useless, taehyung-ah,” he says as tenderly as he can while keeping his voice stern. he rubs what he thinks is taehyung’s arm, giving the boy a squeeze for reassurance.

taehyung pulls the covers tighter around himself. “she’s saying I am again.”

it honestly looks like everyone’s ready to fight someone they can’t see as they all shift in their spots; jaebum’s jaw is set and eyes narrowed, jackson is digging his fingers into kunpimook’s hips, who looks like he wants to pounce on thin air, and yugyeom is forcing his fists between his thighs, shoulders hunched, the frown set so deep into his face jinyoung thinks it might just become a permanent fixture. the only one who hasn’t reacted so badly — merely suffering from the twitch of an eyebrow — is youngjae.

jinyoung watches his friend and skims his gaze over his face, analysing the pull to his mouth, arch of his brow, the ever so slightly out-of-focus glaze that has been present in the witch ever since the two met. suddenly, youngjae perks up, as if he’d been pricked by a needle, and pushes himself slowly onto his feet until he’s crouching. “what does she look like, taehyung?”

the child blinks and looks over at youngjae, eyes wide and watery. “what?”

youngjae waves a hand at kunpimook, who looks like he’s about to point out that taehyung has already mentioned what she looks like, and persists with, “can you see through her?”

taehyung blinks owlishly at him, eyes leaving youngjae for a simple second to the empty air in front of the window. there’s something that settles in jinyoung when he notices how the five-year-old’s eyes focus on something and follow it as it moves to stop beside youngjae. the child looks back at youngjae and gives two small nods.

“good, good, good,” youngjae says, standing abruptly and patting the back of his trousers. “how long have you been able to see her?”

mark’s fingers reach over and start playing with taehyung’s hair gently, pushing themselves under dark strands and then gently combing their way through knots. it makes the boy relax against jinyoung a little further, eyes moving between the standing witch and thin air.

“um,” he says, uncertain, eyes moving as if he were looking someone up and down. “maybe…. I think she came here tuesday?”

youngjae’s nodding, no longer patting his bottom, and moves past jaebum’s chair and the two-seater housing yugyeom, jackson and kunpimook. he stops at the dining table to dig about in a black messenger-style bag that jinyoung had failed to notice he’d brought with him — probably how he’d kept coco dry on the way over — that was a gift from kunpimook several years ago. “have you seen others like her?”

taehyung nods against jinyoung’s chest, making both him and mark stare at each other with parted lips and blank faces. youngjae sends a look over his shoulder and snaps the five-year-old out of the trance he’d been put into upon seeing the ink that decorated the back of the adult’s neck. “yes!”

youngjae turns back to his bag, elbows deep into it and still looking for all the world as if he can’t find a single thing he’s looking for. “when did you start seeing them?”

“I don’t know,” taehyung mumbles, turning his head into jinyoung’s chest. the way he says it, as if he feels sad and guilty for not being able to answer something, makes jinyoung’s heart beat hard enough to bruise his ribs. he squeezes the five-year-old and mark ruffles his hair.

“okay.” youngjae huffs and seems to have given up on whatever it was he was looking for, leaning against the table and crossing his arms over his chest. he chews on his tongue in thought, squinting down the hallway. “do you remember a time when you couldn’t see people like her?”

taehyung shakes his head, speaking when jinyoung turns him around so he can still be practically cuddled in the dream weaver’s lap but speak without sounding muffled, “no… I don’t remember things good.” he refuses to look at youngjae when the witch turns his attention from the hall to him. “I’m sorry.”

“did you see people like her at home?” youngjae questions, face impassive.

the answer is immediate if quiet, as if taehyung wants to be of as much help as he possibly can to make up for his uncertainty. “yes.”

youngjae nods. jinyoung spies jaebum’s attention turning from youngjae to taehyung, up to jinyoung and then back to youngjae once more, his confusion evident in the pull of his features, the way he splays himself out on the chair, legs spread slightly and heels resting against the floor. jackson doesn’t look much better in understanding, and is much more obvious with his flickering attention. yugyeom seems to be intending to try and find the invisible woman while kunpimook is the only one gesturing wildly.

the heavily tattooed witch catches his eye with a raised eyebrow, and kunpimook thrusts his hands out in front of him, “what? what is it? what have you figured out?”

“I can’t be certain, but I think I might know what type of witch taehyung is,” youngjae says. he pushes away from the dining table and juts his chin out at jinyoung, catching the man’s attention easily. “but first, jinyoung, you won’t happen to have any mullein, wormwood, mugwort, lavender and thyme?”

“you know,” yugyeom says, standing a few feet away from youngjae but unable to keep himself from giving into his curiosity and intrigue at the ritual about to take place, no matter how many times he’s seen it, “when I came here today, I didn’t think I’d get to see you at work.”

the witch kneeling on the floor snorts and continues to flick his lighter until the flame stays steady, moving it along the lavender until it catches fire, quickly extinguishing the lighter and patting the lavender against the plate it’s sat on until the small flames die out and only smoke is left. coco, sitting beside him, twitches her nose at the smell but otherwise doesn’t move. “shouldn’t you be fawning over taehyung like everyone else?”

the two witches lock eyes and then turn their attention to the five-year-old boy on the sofa. jinyoung is no longer sat beside him, instead rummaging around in his kitchen trying to find where he put the thyme that he swears he has. instead, kunpimook has moved to take his spot and jackson mark’s after the tattoo artist stood to allow the ever excited healer a chance to meet the boy face to face for the first time. despite the grogginess that still clings to the sick child, he grins as wide as he can, just the hint of a box-like shape to the stretch of his lips, looking back and forth between jackson and kunpimook.

the three of their voices carry between the thuds of jinyoung’s cupboards opening and closing, creaking hinges only adding to the atmosphere, and mark and jaebum’s murmuring from behind the two seater, eyes stuck on taehyung and company while they speak to nobody but each other. there’s questions about tattoos and magic and pets, neither youngjae nor yugyeom being able to deny the squeal of delight and look of excitement on taehyung’s face when he finds out kunpimook has a pet snake — a banana python called banana.

yugyeom and youngjae turn their heads to look at each other once more, both supporting the same, smitten and soft smile on their faces. yugyeom shakes his head and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “nah. I’ll talk to the kid later. maybe when he doesn’t look like he’s about to pass out any second.”

youngjae snorts before he can stop himself. “nice choice.”

yugyeom continues to cock his head and watch as youngjae turns the bay leaves he’d gotten from his bag as well as the thyme jinyoung finally returns to the living room with into incense. the mixture of smells that slowly strengthens in the living room is enough to give yugyeom a headache and he backs off, fingers itching to open a window. jackson did that once and almost threw himself out of it straight after when youngjae’s screeching scold reached him.

jinyoung moves to stand next to yugyeom, crossing his arms over his chest, and also watching their friend. “you know, I thought you said that you’d cleared this flat the week before taehyung got here.”

youngjae pauses where he is, hands holding the mug of mugwort tea to his lips. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, mug pulled an inch away from his lips to allow him to speak, “yes, because the spirits that stuck around beside you then were ‘exorcised’, as you put it. what, did you think your flat was free from the rest of the spirits that walk the earth from now ‘till forever?”

the dream weaver scowls, and then scowls deeper when he hears yugyeom try to hide his laughter between sealed lips and failing miserably. “just drink your damn tea and get on with it.”

there’s a twitch to youngjae’s lips as he finishes his tea, downing it quick as if it were a shot, complete with grimace once everything had been ingested. jinyoung took the offered mug from his hand and moved to take it out to the kitchen.

“okay,” youngjae says, and it’s louder now because he’s no longer only talking to yugyeom. jaebum and mark look up from where they’re standing, still huddled close with mark’s head dangerously close to lying on jaebum’s shoulder, and the younger man’s hand resting on his boyfriend’s hip. kunpimook and jackson — reluctantly, yugyeom notices with much amusement — turn away from taehyung to give youngjae their full attention. “I’m going to need everyone to be quiet and form a circle around me.”

jinyoung walks out of the kitchen and hesitates slightly. they’d moved things around in the living room, shifting the coffee table out into the hall and pushing the small sideboard with the tv on it as close to the wall as possible. youngjae said he needed to sit as close to the centre of the room as possible and surround himself with his necessities — lavender, thyme, mullein, copal, graveyard mold and god knows what else — in order for the ritual to be most effective. everyone else already moves to sit behind one of the plates.

“does taehyung need to be here for this?” jinyoung asks. he walks closer slowly, stopping a few feet away from his foster kid still wrapped up in blankets.

youngjae stares at him for a moment and jinyoung doesn’t like the feeling that his friend thinks that he’s stupid. “he sees spirits, jinyoung-hyung, and he’s a young witch. do you think he’s not going to become part of rituals in later life?”

pressing his lips together into a thin line, jinyoung asks as politely as he can, “it’s a bit of a heavy ritual to be his first, don’t you think?”

the necromancer’s gaze is unwavering, steady and unblinking, so the dream weaver just sighs, shoulders slumping. “alright, aright. taehyung-ah?”

the boy perks up where he’s sitting, fingers grasping tightly around the first blanket that had been wrapped around him, and looks up at jinyoung with wide, hopeful eyes. “yes?”

jinyoung waves the boy over with his hand, sitting beside yugyeom and leaving space for the five-year-old to plop himself down between the two of them. “I want you to listen carefully to what youngjae has to say and follow his directions if he tells you to do something, okay?”

“okay!” taehyung whispers, practically bouncing where he sits as he stares at the bowls in front of him.

youngjae surveys the two of them, then spares a look at the other four adult’s faces, raising one of his eyebrows. “okay, we good?” when he receives a nod from every single one of them, he nods himself and shifts about on his knees, straightening his back.

shedding the jacket he’d been wearing shows a loose sleeveless v-neck tucked into his jeans, the fabric flowing over the waistband, and allows the multitude of inked designs on his skin to come into view. they seemingly activate with the smoke, rippling, moving, twitching, breathing whenever the thick smoke touches them or brushes against the necromancer’s skin. even the feathers beneath his now closed eyes shift as if they’re being played with. jinyoung looks at taehyung out of the corner of his eye and is unsurprised to find the five-year-old gawking, but feels a small amount of pride bloom in his chest when he notes that he hasn’t moved an inch from his spot, though he looks like he wants nothing more than to touch youngjae.

sometimes, jinyoung forgets what his friends hide beneath their clothes. he lets whatever dead tongue youngjae starts whispering wash over him as his gaze drags over his friend’s body; etchings of some of the herbs they’re using now and some jinyoung can just about recognise through the fog that’s building up in his flat decorating youngjae’s wrist like a bracelet and circling his biceps in two bands an inch apart from each other, the moths and butterflies that live on his throat, the black cat that stretches on the back of his left hand and the crow that continuously flies around and around his collarbones.

somewhere in his mind, jinyoung tells himself that mark has contributed to the art on youngjae’s body before his eyelids feel heavy and fall down until he can see nothing but black. the fog in his home is seeping into his mind — and, he’s sure, the minds of everyone else present — and weighs down on his consciousness until it leaves him thinking of nothing but a woman. a woman with dark hair and dark eyes to match, with small hands and feet, a gangly body. she’s moving in a kitchen that doesn’t become to be jinyoung’s, talking to a little girl that doesn’t look familiar. then she’s sitting at a desk in a suit, phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder, familiar lines on her face that anyone would be able to associate with stress. and then a man comes in, out of focus, winding his arms around her waist and pulling her against him, resting his chin on her shoulder.

there’s something about the images that feel dated, and suddenly jinyoung can’t hear properly any more. it’s like he’s underwater, a film pushed over both the conversations happening in — what he can only assume are memories of a person he’s never met — his mind and youngjae’s chanting that he knows will have grown from whispers and murmurs to normal volume.

he doesn’t have the time or awareness to worry about taehyung because there are more memories flashing through his head that aren’t his; the little girl’s second, fourth, tenth birthdays, the woman laughing in the park, at a movie, content reading a book, joking about with the unfocused man as the two of them wash dishes. there’s trouble in paradise when the woman shouts at the man for something he did or didn’t do, for a misconception, for discomfort. he doesn’t know what it is, just knows that he witnesses several that all end with the two of them clinging to each other tightly and apologising.

everything seems so mundane, from witnessing the woman giving birth to the clean-up of the house, from moving out when she can’t be much older than eighteen to her first date with the unfocused man. it seems like such a normal life that jinyoung loses himself in the tranquility until it slaps him around the face so hard he thinks he’s gotten run over.

the little girl isn’t very little any more, maybe thirteen, when she comes home from school and runs to the bathroom, intent on relieving herself only to find the bath filled to the brim with water and her comfortably clothed mother lying submerged beneath the surface, peaceful.

belatedly, taehyung comes to mind, and jinyoung wants nothing more than to pry his eyes open and reach out for the five-year-old, to make sure he’s okay and not scared out of his goddamn mind. but he can’t, because instead he’s staring into the face of the dead woman as she’s dragged out of the bath by the little girl, only to be found minutes later by the unfocused man as he comes in from who knows where.

the feeling of consciousness and the awareness of air in his lungs hits him almost as hard as the woman’s suicide had. the dream weaver’s eyes snap open. they’re too blurry, almost to the point of spilling over and dripping tears down his cheeks. he thinks they might be puffy, might be red-rimmed, but he says nothing, doesn’t move a muscle except to blink so he can focus, doesn’t even dare to look to his sides.

in front of him is the same woman from before, in her soaking wet clothes with her hair plastered to her scalp and neck, dripping water to his floor that leaves a ghostly puddle. she’s glaring at youngjae, hissing something in the language of the dead before turning on taehyung.

it’s with wide eyes and an urge to let his jaw fall slack that he watches youngjae at work, listens to the sharpness of his tongue and the determination in his words, spies the hands that offer several of the objects and plants laid out on plates, but the woman refuses. she hisses and curses and almost roars, face stretching to accommodate unreal expressions of anger that twist her into something no longer human, into something that portrays only what truly could have been her soul.

the air is tense and it burns jinyoung’s lungs and he worries that he can’t breathe, worries that taehyung might not be able to stay seated and still, worries that jackson will try and do something to stop the shouting and unintentionally just make everything worse— the woman in the middle of their semicircle explodes.

it’s not as cool as it sounds; it’s damn near frightful. there aren’t flames, or fire, there’s just a ghost one second, dangerously close to stepping too close to youngjae and absorbing herself into his body when she freezes, face contorting until she screams and scratches at her face in vain. because nothing happens; there aren’t any scratches left behind, she doesn’t manage to make herself bleed— jinyoung wonders if she can feel anything at all. but then it comes, she lets out the biggest wail and just combusts. air and dust and what jinyoung would like to call ectoplasm rushes past all eight witches in the living room, reaching every corner on offer.

the silence that falls afterwards is deafening.

slowly, jinyoung spies out of the corner of his eye that yugyeom has started to move. it’s shifting his weight about on his legs, but then jinyoung can see him more clearly because he’s shuffling around the bowls youngjae set out and gently places a hand on the necromancer’s forearm. there’s a sharp intake of breath and youngjae snaps rigidly to attention.

“jinyoung-hyung,” he says, and his voice isn’t the nice, soft little thing jinyoung’s used to hearing, instead it’s deep and raspy, dry and sounds like it hurts. the dream weaver gives a sharp nod when youngjae locks eyes with him. he knows from experience that there’s nothing youngjae hates more when he’s in charge of his rituals than people not listening or doing as they’re told. “I want you to get taehyung dressed, pack an overnight bag for him and yourself, and then leave your flat.”

he’d like to say that he understood what he was being told straight away and sprang into action, scooping up his foster child and getting him dressed and out the door in a matter of five minutes. but he doesn’t do any of that. instead, it takes kunpimook gently nudging him and jaebum shifting to rub taehyung’s back to make him even register that he’d been given orders.

“what?”

youngjae doesn’t repeat himself, instead turns to look at yugyeom, who’s still got a hold on his arm. “help jinyoung pack and get out. I need jackson and bambam to stay with me. you two are going to be invaluable.”

jaebum shifts to pick taehyung up bridal style, holding the five-year-old close to his chest, and under mark’s guidance moves down the hall and enters the small boy’s bedroom. the tattoo artist then grasps jinyoung’s arm and pulls the witch to his feet, snapping him out of his daze by snapping his fingers in front of his face until the two of them lock gazes.

“go and help taehyung calm down and get ready, me and yugyeom will worry about packing you an overnight bag for you, okay?” mark says, already walking jinyoung towards the hall.

yugyeom standing up in the background and moving after the two of them seems to be what snaps the dream weaver out of it. he gives a nod and turns of his own will, walking down the hall and entering his foster child’s bedroom. taehyung’s sitting on the edge of his bed, legs dangling and fists pulling his blanket tight around his small form, staring down at his lap as jaebum tries to comfort him with a soft voice and reassuring touches.

jinyoung steps forward and places a hand on jaebum’s shoulder. “can you pack a small overnight bag for him, hyung?”

the florist raises his eyes and searches jinyoung’s face for a moment. he looks close to grinding his teeth together in thought, but stops just before and gets to his feet instead, moving away from the two of them and grabbing the backpack taehyung had brought with him on his first day. jinyoung nods and sits down next to taehyung, wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders gently. immediately, the child turns and grabs a hold of his shirt, burying his face into his side. it’s only now that jinyoung realises he’s trembling.

“it’s okay, you’re alright,” he says softly, moving his other hand so he can rub the boy’s side as reassuringly as possible. “I know it’s a bit of a shock but it’s over now, okay? we don’t have to see any more.”

taehyung doesn’t give him a reaction, just stays with his face pressed against jinyoung’s side. the adult witch wonders if he should pull the other into his lap and hold him close, or if that would only exacerbate things. instead of giving in and coddling the five-year-old, he gives him a squeeze and lowers his head, “we need to get you dressed, okay? we’re going to go out and have some hot chocolate and then we’re going to have a sleepover, okay?”

the child pulls his face away slowly with a sniff after a brief moment of hesitance. he looks up at jinyoung and the man is floored by the look on the little boy’s face. he registers the nod and jumps into action as quickly as he can while still being gentle enough to keep taehyung from freaking any more out. in the end, the five of them are waving goodbye to youngjae, jackson and kunpimook in seven minutes before the door closes behind them.

“what do you think youngjae saw in your flat, hyung?” yugyeom asks, twiddling the straw to his chocolate milkshake between his fingers.

the four of them are currently sitting in a café they frequent enough that they’re on first-name basis with the staff. they’re occupying a booth, with mark and jaebum sat on one side and yugyeom taking the seat next to jinyoung when taehyung made it adamant that he isn’t going to leave his foster dad’s lap any time soon. the five-year-old himself has hot chocolate in a to-go cup with its lid in place so spilling it would be more difficult. his little hands struggle to hold the cup occasionally, either putting it down on the table until he can steady his grip or cuddling the warmth to his chest.

jinyoung has an arm wound round taehyung’s middle, and he stares at his own coffee that glares right back, half gone. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know there was a ghost in my flat to begin with.”

yugyeom gives him an exaggerated one shouldered shrug. “they do get around a lot.”

the dream weaver sighs and rests his chin briefly on the child’s head, tightening his grip. their bags are under the table, by his feet, and although taehyung is no longer trembling and walked alongside jinyoung without protest, holding onto the adult’s hand, he had yet to say a word or show any of the enthusiasm that he had had before the whole ritual ordeal.

“well,” jaebum says, and he’s sloshing his iced americano around on the table with one hand, no doubt grinding his back teeth together in thought if the twitch of his jaw is anything to go by. “it wasn’t really… usual, either. or was that just me?”

jinyoung blinks. “usual?”

“she exploded. at the end. or did you miss that?” jaebum points out, eyebrows disappearing under his fringe and making jinyoung want to quite possibly drop kick him into next week.

mark nudges his boyfriend without even looking into jinyoung’s direction, instead surveying the inside of the shop, and jinyoung both loves and hates how well the tattoo artist knows him. “don’t speak like that to jinyoungie, jaebum-ah.”

they lapse into silence after that, each of them concentrating on their own drink and thinking over the events in their own minds. because now that jinyoung doesn’t need to worry too much about taehyung, about the boy suffering from shock right after the ritual and seeing him more or less functioning, jinyoung now has the chance to reflect back on things he himself missed when he was still trying to return to himself.

mark had been deathly pale when he’d stood up and moved to help jinyoung to his feet. he was sure, now, possibly, that jaebum had felt ice-cold beneath his hand when he’d touched his shoulder back in taehyung’s room not half an hour ago. youngjae had looked exhausted, yugyeom the epitome of panic. jackson and kunpimook hadn’t registered too much in his sight, in his mind, and he can’t help but kick himself at the idea of having missed something. well, normally he wouldn’t care. when taking part in a ritual like this, it’s usual for the participants to suffer from some kind of after effects of the memories they watched. which is why jinyoung had returned to himself with his eyes burning, practically crying where he’d sat.

taehyung shifts in his lap and he lifts his head, loosening his hold just slightly. the five-year-old places his hot chocolate on the table and grabs one of the cookies they’d bought gently. he takes a small bite, the crunching loud despite the murmur that lives inside the cafe. with the cookie apparently being up to par, the child shifts until he’s sat sideways in the dream weaver’s lap, curling up against his chest as much as possible.

“do you think,” mark says, letting his gaze return to his friends once more, “do you think it’s possible that there might have been something else?”

yugyeom swallows his mouthful of milkshake. “like what? another ghost that’s tormenting the ghost that was being mean to taehyung-ah?”

at the mention of his name, the small boy flicks his eyes up to yugyeom and then to mark, locking gazes with the eldest witch. he continues to eat his cookie quietly and does nothing to the relief that washes over mark’s face. sweet treats always helped beginners in rituals come back to themselves safely if they still felt disconnected. and if not, it was still a nice bonus.

“can you rule it out?” mark says, looking content at yugyeom’s lack of an answer. he shifts about on his side of the booth and moves closer to jaebum, a little sigh leaving his lips when an arm wraps around his shoulders. “taehyung-ah, do you remember seeing any other people like that woman in jinyoungie’s flat?”

the five-year-old straightens his back and raises his head enough that he can look at mark properly when he answers. jinyoung wraps both his arms around the small body and relaxes back in his booth, suddenly feeling very tired. “there, um, there was one. he was really mean and scary. he kept shouting at me in the middle of the night and wouldn’t let me sleep, so I went to jinyoung-hyung’s room, and he let me sleep there.”

jinyoung blinks, looking down at the top of taehyung’s head. “that’s why you came into my room? I thought you had a nightmare.”

the only way he could explain the manner in which taehyung looked at him was shyly, even if there was a little bit of guilt underlining his expression. “I… I didn’t know how to explain him. he looked like a nightmare, so… so I just thought…”

“hey, hey, hey,” jinyoung says and gives the boy a gentle squeeze. he waits until he’s got taehyung looking at him again and offers a small smile. “it’s okay. it doesn’t matter why you were scared, you came to me and you felt better, yeah?”

taehyung nods slowly.

“that’s all that matters. we know what it was now, yeah?” jinyoung smiles a little wider at the second nod he gets and he relaxes once more, still keeping his arms around the five-year-old.

“yeah, taehyung-ah,” yugyeom says, ruffling the boy’s hair and smiling at him, lips parting to show teeth and bunch his cheeks up. “you don’t need to worry about being scared when jinyoung-hyung is here to take care of you!”

jaebum snorts, mark kicks him under the table, and jinyoung doesn’t try very hard not to laugh at the dirty look he sends the oldest. shaking his head, the dream weaver nicks a cookie for himself and takes a bite out of it, hiding his full mouth behind his hand when he speaks. “I don’t know where we’re going to stay tonight though. where do you think the nearest hotel is?”

he looks sharply to his left when he hears a snort and resists the urge to smack the younger witch upside the head. “what are you talking about? you’re going to stay the night at my place.”

“at your place,” jinyoung repeats.

“yeah.” yugyeom shoots taehyung a smile and nudges the five-year-old playfully with his elbow, managing to get a tentative smile that only grows when he starts tickling the child’s sighs. “you want to sleepover at mine, don’t you, taehyung-ah? it’ll be so cool!”

“yugyeom,” jinyoung starts, voice presenting a warning.

“oh, come on, hyung,” the witch whines, pouting exaggeratedly and looking like the worst lost puppy in the world. period. “hotels don’t have wiis or games for taehyung to play with. you’ll be bored with nothing to do. but if you come over to my house,” yugyeom says, now turning to speak to taehyung, poking his knee, “you can play all the games you want until bed and you’ll even make a new friend!”

taehyung eyes yugyeom owlishly, jaw slightly slack at the word friend. “new friend?”

the older witch nods. “I have a younger brother who’s about six. he loves meeting people and can always do with more friends.”

mark and jaebum’s faces register nothing more than fond amusement when jinyoung looks over at them, tracing the curve of their smiles and softness in their gazes. it’s honestly a bit of an enigma how a little boy could make the seven of them so weak and ready to fight for him after being in their lives for only just over a month. he wonders if this is what had been missing from their little group; an even littler person.

“jinyoung-hyung,” taehyung says, tapping his hand on the dream weaver’s cheek and looking up at him expectantly. “can we sleep at yugyeom-hyung’s house tonight? I… I want to make a new friend.”

and jinyoung’s weakness towards taehyung and whatever taehyung asks for when he’s like that; a small, shy five-year-old witch who hadn’t known about the possibilities of magic until now, with crumbs around his mouth and a faint hot chocolate outline around his lips, is the only reason why, half an hour later, almost forty minutes, he finds himself sitting on yugyeom’s sofa, having said goodbye to his mother, watching taehyung stare wide-eyed at seokjin’s toys that he insists on bringing into the living room to show the five-year-old and jinyoung.

he blinks and looks over at yugyeom with a blank expression, only to be met by one of the biggest grins he’s seen to date. “if the kid’s going to be in your charge for a long time, he might as well get familiar with those who are going to be family, huh?”

“ah, jinyoung-ssi?”

the dream weaver looks back to the two and spies seokjin standing a few feet away, fingers fidgeting with a stuffed mario plushy in his hands. shaking his head briefly, he smiles and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “yes, seokjin-ah?”

“um, I was wondering if it would be okay if taehyungie could come to my room? I wanna show him all the books I’ve got!”

it might be less that jinyoung is weak for kids when they’re vulnerable and more that he’s just weak for kids in general, because the smile on his face is no longer forced and instead feels like the most subconscious, natural reaction he could ever give. so he just nods.

seokjin grins wide, mouth pushing ever so slightly to the left, and his eyes sparkle as he lets go of mario with one hand, grasping taehyung’s and pulling the younger boy with him to the hall excitedly.

“seokjinnie!” yugyeom calls after them and the six-year-old stumbles to a stop, answering with a “yeah?”. “what do you say?”

“oh!” seokjin steps forward a few steps and bows. “thank you jinyoung-ssi!”

jinyoung just continues to smile when yugyeom says. “how about after you’ve shown taehyung-ah your books, you bring some colouring books down and you can show us why dogs should be allowed to be purple and the grass pink?”

“yeah!”

“okay!”

#mack writes #gotbang fic #got7 fic #bts fic #foster care au #park jinyoung #mark tuan #im jaebum #jackson wang #bambam #kunpimook bhuwakul #kim yugyeom #choi youngjae #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #cbfm #cbfm fic

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babykooks · 8 years ago

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YOONGI [ONESHOT] - SICK

(This is low-key the best thing I’ve ever written)

Suga had never been the one to care much.

He had watched people come and go, and his eyes had seen things no one should have. And still, he didn’t really care.

Suga couldn’t bring himself to feel compassion for any human because he knew how they all were. All they did was lie and lie, and they’d betray you the first chance they got. He bet even someone who dared to call him their friend would most likely kill him if given enough money.

But he understood. He would do the exact same thing.

Which was why he stayed out of everyone’s business when it didn’t have anything to do with him.

If he saw someone getting killed he’d just walk by. They had probably deserved it anyways.

He didn’t care.

However, his aloofness made his life a bit boring. He was in desperate need of excitement every day of his life, and he was so desperate that he’d do whatever to feel something, anything, for God’s sake.

That need was what had made him commit his first crime, and the rest, as they say, was history. Since then, he had stolen too many times to remember, killed too many people to count. All for excitement.

However, of all the crimes he’d committed over the years, arsons were his favorite.

Watching a house of someone who had gotten on his nerves some other day go up in flames was so incredibly satisfying, that he often found himself smiling wickedly at the sight. So bright and pretty, he’d think and tilt his head, letting out a soft giggle. The flames licked the stars, and Suga felt like a five-year-old on Christmas morning.

‘SICK’ was what people called him. It wasn’t an unknown fact among the citizens or other criminals who he was. They all knew him, and as the regular people feared him, the criminals hated him with a burning passion (no wordplay intended). You see, he stole all the media’s attention from all the pathetic and small crimes the others committed.

Suga thought that was funny.

Why didn’t they kill, then? He didn’t know; he didn’t understand. Maybe he was sick, after all.

***

Was he?

He grew frustrated as he coated the small gas station building with more gasoline.

Sick?

Him?

(Suga had decided to drive around that night. However, when he had decided to stop by and steal buy a few snacks, he had noticed it had been closed just a while ago. Anger didn’t even begin to describe what he felt. What was he supposed to eat now? This was a tiny town, with no other gas stations.

“How about I burn this place up and see how much you’re going to be closed then?” he’d said out loud, laughing bittersweetly as he had taken the gasoline container from the trunk.)

Sick? Sick? Sick?

The word kept going through his mind over and over again, fueling his anger. He couldn’t help but be curious; was being ‘sick’ such a bad thing anyways?

He wanted to tear off the dark hair off his head; that’s how frustrated his cluelessness had made him.

Absentmindedly, he pulled out a silvery lighter from his pocket and began to fiddle with it, dragging his fingers over the cold metal. His annoyance was soon to be replaced with a rush of excitement, and that was more than fine by him.

A smile flickered on his lips as he lifted his gaze up to the gas station, a bit shaken to meet another pair of eyes in the window of the building. For one moment, he thought it was himself he saw in the reflection, but soon realized it was a girl, staring right at him from the inside of the station. She looked panicked and Suga licked his lips, tilting his head. Did she work at the station?

She must’ve known who he was, or at least guessed what he was about to do, because she began to yank and pound on the door. It stubbornly kept shut. She was stuck inside.

‘Perfect’, he thought to himself and smiled at her

And it wasn’t a nice, heartwarming smile from a boy to a girl, filled with happiness and compassion. It was one from a predator to a prey, filled with danger and the promise of death.

“No”, Suga saw the girl mouth to him, a teardrop rolling down her cheek as he finally let the flame of the lighter become one with the gasoline.

As the building blew up, Suga realized he was entirely too close, and began to run.

Throwing himself on the ground, he closed his eyes and covered his face, too busy to notice the girl who had managed to break the window and get out. However, she was still close enough for the flames to lick up her whole back, leaving her laying on the ground in pain as the building slowly kept turning into ashes.

Her bloodcurdling scream arose from close by, and even Suga could hear it despite the fact that he was still half-deaf due to the sound of explosion. He grunted as he pushed his aching body off of the ground. He was mad at himself for getting too caught up with the girl and making the mistake of standing too close, and slowly turned towards the source of the scream. His eyes widened when he saw the girl lying limp on the ground. Her back had been burned and had already become charred, and Suga could swear he could smell the burned flesh over the fire. He slumped towards the girl’s figure, hearing her sobs grow more and more audible as he approached her.

A voice in his head wondered why he was even bothering to take a look if she was fatally injured or not. He could’ve just left and never looked back.

‘I’m not worrying or caring for her; I’m just checking if I can still kill her or not’, he assured the voice as he crouched down to the level of the girl.

And there he just kept looking at her - not making a single sound - simply watching the girl who was trying to squirm away in fear from him.

“N-No!” she cried out as he reached his dirty hand out to stroke her cheek. “P-Please don’t hurt me!”

“Shh,” he said, his voice husky and deep, and turned his piercing stare to her back. “That looks painful.” He let out a low chuckle and reached out to touch the skin until she flinched away.

“Just please go and leave me alone. I’ll tell them it was an accident and that it had nothing to do with you. Just please don’t kill me,” she pleaded. Suga watched her blood pool on the pavement, the tears rolling down her cheeks mixing with the dark red puddles.

“But darling, now what fun would that be?” he whispered, close enough to her ear to be considered seductive, and she squealed as she felt herself being lifted off the ground.

Suga threw her over his shoulder like a dirty rag and carried her to his car, sitting across the parking lot.

She started wriggling in his grip. If she got into that car, there was no going back. It was more than likely the promise of death his smile had given her would be filled. “No! No, no, no,” she begged over and over again, hitting Suga’s back with whatever strength her burns hadn’t stolen from her yet.

A hollow laugh rose out of him, sending shivers down her spine. "Oh yes, my beloved one.”

She couldn’t help but notice the pyromaniac’s manner of speaking that was completely out of date. This man was so utterly and purely mysterious that she couldn’t help but let her thoughts wander.

How in the world did he end up being like this?

What in the world would he do to her?

Her vision turned blurry from all of the smoke she had breathed as he placed her inside the car and slammed the door shut.

“Where are we going?” She managed to say, watching him get behind the steering wheel.

But she didn’t stay around long enough to hear the answer. Her world turned pitch black all at once.

***

Suga groaned when he finally managed to place the girl onto the table. Her bare, burned back faced the ceiling of his dingy apartment. His leg still stung from when he bumped into the couch in the living room.

“Let’s see,” he mumbled to himself, turning on the light above the table to get a better view to her wound.

Why was he helping her? He still couldn’t figure it out himself. Did she remind him of his dead little sister? Mother? Maybe, but he’d never had a sister or a mother.

He went to the kitchen and soaked up a large towel with cool water before returning to the girl, putting it over her back as carefully as he could. He furrowed his brows, thinking. What were you supposed to do to a major burn again? The first thing that came to mind was going to the hospital, but that was out of question as Suga was wanted in almost every city in the whole country. They would lock him up the second they saw his face and he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be told he was sick anymore.

All he could think of, for now, was going to the medical cabinet and pulling out a bottle of liquid morphine - he’d needed it on a couple of occasions when he’d gotten severely hurt - and a syringe. She’d probably be out of pain after she woke up and would thank him later.

He measured a dosage he thought was appropriate and injected the needle into her arm. An IV tube would’ve probably been needed but, oh well. Where would Suga get such a thing?

It wasn’t like he could just go into a hospital and steal one.

Oh, wait.

Yes he could.

***

Suga watched her lay on the table after he had removed all the burned parts of her skin, cleaned the area and wrapped her torso with a gauze. The brand new IV in her arm, she was still completely out of it, only having stirred from her sleep a couple of times during the past six hours. And all that time he had sat beside her, just looking at her. What made her so special? Why had he helped her?

Why? Why? Why?

He knew that all helping did was cause problems, and problems always caused even more problems.

His breath hitched as he realized he wasn’t staring at her sleeping form anymore, but to her now open eyes. He quickly looked away and hid his face with his dark hair. It was weird to be caught staring like that.

"Where am I?” her voice was hoarse and weak, and he didn’t have the strength to hide the fact he had taken her anymore. He hadn’t slept. He was tired, and he was angry for feeling pity for her and not letting her die.

“My place,” he said, wrapping his arms around his rather skinny figure like he was protecting himself from someone like - well - himself.

He watched panic arose in her as she kept looking around, growing more anxious the more aware she became of her surroundings and of him. She pushed herself up on weak arms and he immediately pinned her back to the table.

"Trying to leave so soon, my love?” he asked, flashing her a brief smirk. “How ungrateful after I helped you, and technically saved your life.”

“You’re the reason I’m in this state,” she spat, defiantly, but grew nervous as something dangerous flashed in his eyes at her words.

"Now, now, you’re lucky I let you live.” He was trying to keep calm but she could see he was seething with rage and it made her want to be anywhere but in the same room with him. Especially not with his arms grasping her shoulders like they were now, pain blooming under his touch.

"S-Sorry,” she whimpered and Suga finally let go of her.

"Whatever,” he mumbled, and sat back into the chair he’d been sitting on for a while now. "Just shut up and don’t annoy me.”

She nodded and looked at him with so much curiosity again, not being able to help herself. At that moment, when he sat in that chair, he looked so vulnerable and broken, almost normal even, and she noticed how good-looking the cruel man actually was up close. He had nicely sculptured features and kissable lips, although what took her breath away were his eyes. They almost screamed about the things they’d seen, creating so much depth into his always intense gaze as his eyes flickered towards her and away in turns.

“What are you doing?” Suga snapped, squirming in his seat under the girl’s stare.

“What?” she seemed startled, pink tint colouring her otherwise colorless face, embarrassed she’d been caught staring.

Suga wasn’t sure what someone watching him like that meant. He wasn’t sure if he even liked it. It was like she didn’t see a murderer or en evil man but him. How was he supposed to react to something like that? He’d never been in a situation like this before, and truth be told, it felt rather suffocating.

With a loud noise, he stood up, the chair falling backwards from the speed of his movements. He ran nervous hands through his hair as he went to the window and opened it, desperate for fresh air.

“Do you have a name?” Suga asked, his back still facing the girl.

“(Y/N),” she said, and he nodded.

"And I’m-”

“Agust D. I know who you are.”

His eyebrows rose a bit. Was that what they called him?

“Agust D, right,” he mumbled before walking into his bedroom and slamming the door shut.

(Y/N) was left lying on the table, staring at the door he’d disappeared behind. She found him more confusing than anything. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

*** Suga walked in circles in his shabby room, arms wrapped around himself to protect himself from something that most likely didn’t even exist. Sobs rose from his chest, sounding like words when they escaped him.

"Sick, sick, sick,” he slapped his cheek. "Sick, sick. Sick.”

His reflection in the cracked mirror, staring with red, wild eyes: sick.

The way he lived, dingy and dark and shabby: sick.

And most importantly, his mind. His incredibly broken mind.

Sick.

His hands were shaking as he grabbed a pocket knife and a gun from his desk, taking a gulp from the open whiskey bottle as he went. The alcohol burned as it went down, but he didn’t feel it. He needed to kill someone, right now. He needed to feel alive, excited, awake. He was sad and angry-disordered, even - and he needed something that gave him that jolt of happiness.

So he threw the door open again, only to meet her eyes. He grinned. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, her hand in one of his drawers. She’d been going through his stuff.

“Didn’t your mama and papa teach you that sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong is bad?” he asked, low and threatening, as he stalked towards her. His pocket knife caught the glint of the light when he took it out.

“I-I was just looking for painkillers,” (Y/N) said the first thing that came to mind, and he laughed again. That’s right; how could I forget? Everyone was a liar, a piece of dirt.

Everyone deserved to die. Him, too.

"Lying isn’t nice, my beloved. I know you aren’t in pain; I gave you morphine and as you’re able to stand, it clearly worked. I’m not stupid, you see. Sick, but not stupid.”

She had heard him mumbling to himself in his room just a few minutes earlier. The sounds had made her insides twist. She wasn’t sure she could get through even one day if she was as messed up as he was. He wasn’t sick; he just needed someone who’d love him. Could she be that person? She didn’t know.

“Morphine? You drugged me?” (Y/N) shrieked, eyes flashing with fear and anger.

“Yeah, so?” he asked bluntly and flipped the knife open, the blade only inches away from her throat. What it would feel like to watch her rich crimson blood drain from her body? Would it feel like anything?

“P-Put the knife away,” she stuttered, grabbing his wrist. It was a gamble, but it worked. He shook her grasp off and backed off, done playing with her.

"As you want, love.”

He headed through the trashy apartment towards the front door and fiddled with the locks for a while before opening them.

“Where are you going?” her small voice asked. Suga shot her a glare.

“What did I say about sticking your nose where it isn’t supposed to be? It’ll get you killed one day, doll. I’m going out.”

“Wait-” she called, reaching her hand out to him but the unpredictable male was already gone, vanished into the night. By the look in his eyes and the knife he still had with him, he was up to no good.

She had to go after him. She didn’t know why, but she had to. Maybe it was because she felt like she owed him her life?

Nevertheless, she winced as she ripped the IV off of her forearm, looking around for a jacket and her shoes.

***

“What’s your problem dude?” the man growled at Suga, trying to back away from him in the dark alley as the blade he held flashed dangerously in the moonlight.

“My… problem?” he said slowly as he kept stepping forward. This was such a fun, intricate dance; how could he stay away from it? “I don’t know; I was wishing you could enlighten me.”

“How am I supposed to know? You- You are Agust D, aren’t you? Sick bastard, get away from me!” “I’M NOT SICK!” Suga screamed, now holding his head in his hands. “I’M NOT! I’M NOT SICK!”

“Jesus Christ,” the man whispered, looking at the boy who he thought was absolutely nuts.

"Make it stop, please, make it stop…” he cried, sobs causing for his shoulders to shake. He fell to the ground, sobbing and holding his head.

“Make what stop?” the man asked, confused. He approached the figure crouching on the ground and laid a careful hand on his shoulder.

However, he knew he’d fucked up as he saw his eyes glisten from under his hair.

But it was too late.

In a flash Suga dug his knife to the man’s stomach and smiled as he doubled over from pain, starting to cough up blood. He fell to the ground, on his back.

“Please, I have two daughters at home! I’m all they have, please, please! Please don’t kill me; they’ll have no one if I die!”

“They’ll be joining you soon then,” the psychopath chuckled, watching the man’s blood pool around the knife.

Soon enough the man took his last breath and Suga sank to the ground himself. A shaky breath escaped his pale lips as he slid against the wall of the alley and held his head again.

He was feeling gloomy. The rush of excitement he’d been craving was nowhere to be found.

For the first time in a long time he felt dirty after ending someone’s life. Like his hands were full of blood that refused to come out. Suga began to shake, the man’s words echoing in his head over and over. "Sick bastard, get away from me!”

His eyes started to water until a sound floated down the alley and to him. His head snapped up. A familiar voice was calling his name.

“Suga!”

His name. She didn’t call Agust D; she called him. How had she found out his name? That didn’t really matter to him. He felt her small hand on his forearm and heard her heavy breathing near his ear.

“Why are you sitting here? What have you done?!” She yelled, hurrying over to the other man’s limp body.

“He’s already dead”, he mumbled and sniffled, using the back of his hand to wipe away a few stray tears.

“Oh, Suga”, she sighed and he could swear he saw pity for him in her eyes for a fleeting moment. She looked up and around, and then back down at him.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

And he waited. It wasn’t like he had the strength to move anyways. He was dead tired and emotionally dull. He felt lost, and sick.

He felt like he had killed someone.

“He had two small daughters”, he said aloud and a single sob left his mouth. What kind of a monster was he? What about all the other people he’d killed, all the families he’d sent into mourning?

Fast steps could be heard a few minutes later and (Y/N) appeared in his vision again, crouching.

“Here, let’s get you cleaned up,” she whispered, opening a water bottle she’d brought and pouring the water on his hands that were covered in blood. The water that fell to the ground was a bright pink.

“Why aren’t you running away?” Suga asked, looking at her. “Why don’t you call me sick? Why aren’t you scared?”

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, shrugging, and tried to clean up his face. "I don’t think you’re dangerous, just broken and lost.”

“I could kill you”, he laughed humorlessly and looked her dead in the eye.

“But you won’t,” she told him firmly. "I know you won’t. If you wanted to, you wouldn’t have brought me to your place in the first place. You wouldn’t have helped me.”

All Suga could do was nod and wince as her fingers brushed over a bruise he’d gotten earlier in a fight that night. He’d fought a group of six men, and ended up running away, because there was just simply too many of them. He’d succeeded to kill one of them, but the others refused to die.

“How did you know my name?” He asked after a long pause and he noticed the girl tense for a second before continuing to clean him up.

“I-I saw a file you had of yourself laying around when I went through your stuff,” she murmured, not wanting him to get mad at her again.

"Oh,” was all he could manage to say. He had stolen the file from the police a long time ago, when he wasn’t a ‘big, bad serial killer’ yet, just to see what they had on him.

“Come on,” (Y/N) said, helping him to his feet. “Let’s get you home.” Her hand was soft in his, and warm. Suga never wanted to let go.

"THERE HE IS!” A man’s yell echoed in the alley, bouncing off the walls, and Suga hid (Y/N) protectively behind his back. “GET HIM!”

He was frozen in the spot as he saw the men from earlier run towards them. The only difference now being that, instead of six, there were only five of them.

Suga hurriedly took out the gun he always carried with him for emergencies. This was definitely one. With a loud bang, one of them fell to the ground and only four men kept running.

“We have to run! Come on!” Suga told the panicked girl behind him.

“Oh my god, Suga, what have you done?” (Y/N) asked, her voice quivering. They broke off into a run together.

“I… encountered them earlier,” He said, holding her hand tighter when taking a sharp turn to left.

"No! No, it’s a dead end!” she cried out but when they turned around, it was too late.

The four men had caught up with them. The guns they were holding were visible, as if it was the middle of the day.

“You’re going to pay for killing Jungkook and Jimin,” he heard the tallest growl at him, and Suga pulled (Y/N) back behind him, lifting his gun.

"Fine. You can do whatever you want to me, but let the girl go. She has nothing to do with this.”

All of their stares now bored into (Y/N), who squeezed the back of his shirt with her shaking hands. When was the last time someone had relied on him for protection, had trusted him that much? Had it ever happened?

“Well, doesn’t she just look delicious,” one of them purred. “How about this: You give the girl to us and we let you go unharmed. Good deal, isn’t it?”

And it was.

He could’ve just handed her over, so easily, and let her die. He could’ve just been the sick monster people called him.

But he didn’t want to be.

He didn’t want to let the only person who didn’t want him locked up to die. Even though he barely knew her, there was a strong connection between them and he didn’t want to let it go. He would die for her if he had to, in fact. There was no one who deserved death more than him.

She was the embodiment of innocence, and he was rotten to the core, having committed to many sins to count.

“No”, he finally said, loud and clear. He wouldn’t let her die.

“Is this really the famous Agust D I’ve heard of?” The man laughed, the sound harsh on their ears. “I’m just downright disappointed. How come the most wanted serial killer is a pussy? Well, it’s your choice, even though I can’t promise what happens to the girl when you’re out of the way.” The man loaded his gun and aimed it straight at Suga’s forehead, grinning from ear to ear.

He watched him pull the trigger and closed his eyes, ready to accept the cold embrace of death.

“No!” (Y/N) suddenly screamed and his eyes flew wide open as a loud bang echoed in his ears. Only her hair waved beside her, following the wind, as she jumped in front of him and immediately jerked back. She had taken the bullet for him.

It was like his heart was being ripped right out of his chest. Her body fell to the ground, lifeless, dead. No more.

“(Y/N), NO!” Suga cried out and crouched down to embrace her, his tears rolling down his cheeks to her hair where his face was buried. Blood smeared in his hair.

“Let’s go guys. Our job here is done”, he could hear the distant murmurs but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to take his revenge and kill them.

She was dead. Her eyes stared back at him, cold and blank.

A scream ripped out of his throat.

He screamed having to know the pain of loss for the first time. He screamed at the realization that he would never be able to hear her voice or talk to her. He screamed because he’d never be able to touch her skin again, to make her laugh even once.

He screamed until he couldn’t anymore. His voice was gone and his throat hurt, but his arms were still wrapped around her.

He just wanted her to open her eyes again and smile at him.

He wanted her to tell him it was going to be okay.

“It’s my fault, it’s all my fault,” he said over and over again, holding her tighter still. He was a sick monster. A terrible demon.

Sick. Sick. Sick.

“Sick”, he cried to himself with a hushed voice, staring at the gun that called to him now, gleaming in the moonlight.

“Sick”, he said again, with a stronger voice as he lifted the gun up all the way to his temple. The metal was cool against his skin.

“Sick”, he grinned. His finger searched for the trigger and he laughed aloud when he found it.

“Sick”, he said for the last time as he gazed at the dead girl lying in front of him and thought how beautiful she was under the pale moonlight. How beautiful she’d been alive, and how beautiful she was in death.

And with a loud bang and even louder silence that followed, Suga fell limp to the ground, right next to the cold girl that he almost saved.

The girl who would’ve saved him.

The girl he might have loved.

The girl who never thought he was sick.

***

CREDITS TO THE AMAZING @quill-ink FOR EDITING THIS ONESHOT AND MAKING IT TRULY AMAZING! Thank you babe xx

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