#death tw : this morning i sat with a resident i was really close with as she took her last breath and i miss her already

[piastrinorris]

reminder to hug people you love today. even virtually.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Memories I hope to Hold

Cal!LinkxReader Hurt/Comfort I think

TW: Mentions of death and the Calamity but that’s really it

Not edited, please excuse my poor spelling

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Today you were going to die. You had less qualms with it than you originally expected. After everything that had happened in the past few months or was it a year yet? death just seemed like an unfortunate add on to the many, many things out of your control. The sun hadn’t even breached the horizon, yet you didn’t miss its warmth. You’d only have until midday to bask in it if you were lucky, and even then you weren’t sure you wanted to. Despite the early morning dew still sticking to the grass, some of Hateno was awake with you. The tech lab, for which you’d been residing since your arrival, if you could even call it that, had white tufts of smoke pluming out from its stone chimney. Purah and Robbie had been lovely friends, letting you chip in with your knowledge about Hyrule. It was amazing to have ears that listened rather than dismissing you, you might not have been from Hyrule, but that didn’t mean that you knew nothing. Of course, you knew the story’s beginning. But more importantly, you knew it’s morbid end. The world to dust and ashes and everyone you knew either laying within their graves or just about approaching. You looked over your map one more time, each shrine you wished to visit pinned carefully. Your hand hovered over the glass screen of your sheikah ‘switch’, your old and once broken nintendo switch repaired with sheikah magic. Purahs birthday gift to you. You pressed decisively on the Central tower.

You looked out at the field you arrived here in, nothing but your switch and the clothes off your back. The sun painted the familiar field a soft gold, so deceptively welcoming. You thought back to that very day, surly a year ago by now.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Your head was splitting. The open sky above you swirled and faded in and out. Your limbs were made of lead and two voices spoke words you could not make out, but it didn’t matter, you could not bring yourself to care.

When your eyes flicked back open you were met with an incredibly confusing sight. Lush grass for hundreds of meters around, wildflowers dotting the green field with bright color, your switch was now shattered on your chest and you were not on Earth anymore. No. Not close. Two familiar blondes stared at you. One set of green eyes, incredibly concerned, eyebrows knitted with worry. The other set of blue, distrusting and guarded, arm extended to keep the other back, but beneath the harshness, you saw fragility. Maybe not now, granted, but you knew it was there. But so long spent observing Link’s journeys and memories, it’s difficult to fool you with hardened eyes and armour after you saw what lay beneath. You sat up, pushing off the ground to stand, shuffling back on your feet. The blood drained from your head, leaving you woozy and dizzy. You righted yourself as carefully as you could, not wishing to do yourself any more damage.

“U-Uh Where…” Words came slow and difficult, like the words had to pass through a coffee filter to get out, “Where are we?” You knew- well, you didn’t know but you had an idea.

“Central Hyrule, South east of Castle Town. What are you- How did you get here?” The princess had an equal parts wonder as distrust in her tone. You made your decisions rapidly, pretending not to know too much might fair well depending on what they know.

“Hyrule? Castle town? Forgive me I am… Unfamiliar… How did I?” You looked around, the familiar tower glowing a brilliant blue stood tall behind you. You staggered back, trying still to comprehend what it was you were seeing. “What on Earth? I don’t.” You turned back around to see the two moved away from you when you moved closer. You tried your hardest to not take it personally. “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure myself.” Your voice was quiet and tapered off, the familiar bite of panic knawed just behind your sternum. Your lungs drew their breaths quicker, your aching mind tried to race to a probable conclusions and drawing up blanks.

“You do not know of Hyrule?”

Yes. “No.”

“How Peculiar”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

How peculiar it was indeed. Moreover that you ended up staying with the both of them for longer after that. It was funny how that entire conversation determined everything that happened afterward. Zelda and you worked on the study of the divine beast and their functions, you learned a great deal of Hyrule’s history and culture from her, adapting to your new home. And Link… well you had just as many words to describe him as words he had to say. Infinitely many, and yet no mix of them could truly ever make sense, to you or to anyone else. Besides, You had to get home, not dwell on such trivial thoughts and such sharp eyes and caring nature and selfless kindness. The world demanded your attention elsewhere, and so you went. Your fingers hovered carefully over the Akh Va’quot shrine before feeling yourself be whisked away.

You tugged your cloak around you as the familiar bite of Hebra’s wind hit once more. Rito Village bustled with the early morning chores, children running around and adults setting up their businesses. You remembered the first time you came here like it was yesterday, the so many rows of stairs captivating in combination with the bird people that inhabited it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You could hardly contain yourself as you made you way up all of the stairs. You were spellbound -as you frequently were by Hyrule, how couldnt you?- by the rolling mountains and staggering peaks of Hebra around you. The rest of the champions were already met at Revali’s landing, talking with one another with practiced ease you’d yet to find. You hung back, admiring the views while Zelda and Link passed, letting them join the flow of conversation before you had to. Greetings were exchanged, some even to you which you tried to meet with the same warmth. And yet you couldn’t find it in yourself. Looking at the group of champions, you couldn’t help but feel like an add on… an extra piece of a puzzle there was no room for. You’d met with them more than a few times before, and every time you were met with nothing but welcome, especially after they were informed of your circumstance (and got over their rightful unease). You were so withdrawn that you failed to notice the group trying to draw your attention. You jumped slightly as a gentle hand rested on your shoulder, tensing completely before relaxing. The group stared at you for a moment, and all you wanted to do was leave, to run into the forest and never have to face them again. You might’ve, If it weren’t for Link’s hand on your shoulder, keeping you just the slightest bit grounded.

“Hey, (y/n) you alright?” Daruk was hardly ever worried, as he hardly ever had much that could cause genuine threat to him.

“Yeah sorry I just- I- We dont have sights like this back home and I guess I just feel a little homesick.” Not technically a lie, but not a whole truth.

“Understandable. Rito village is a sight for everyone, even for those from Hyrule. It is no surprise you’re captivated.” Revali crossed his arms? wings? And closed his eyes with confidence, smirking if he could. You allowed yourself a polite smile and another look at the surrounding mountains.

“I find myself more impressed the longer I stay here. It only makes me want to see more. I will say, Zoras domain can’t be topped by anything in my mind.” Mipha smiles gratefully, you’d managed to form a genuine connection with her, especially considering how sweet she was. The rest of that evening went smoothly, plans and conversation explained and discussed over a long dinner.

By the end, the sun was nearly gone, its warmth leaving with it. As you began to leave for the castle, a familiar grey cloak was slipped around your shoulders. It smelled vaguely of pine and grass, sunken into the fabric to the point it couldn’t be removed. You stared at the knight as he walked away from you, a flush growing over your cheeks with your endearing smile.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You still smiled at the memory, something so trivial at the time was so… easy to read now. You checked the time- shit. You were running late. You had give or take two or three hours left before the sky came falling in. Before the worlds malice stood to fight once more. You didn’t think twice this time before clicking on the Mogg Latan shrine.

Mount Satori was just as beautiful as it always was. The twisting cherry tree letting its fragile pink blossoms fall into the clear water. Silent princesses bloomed around the rocks in the water. You could see your own bittersweet smile in the reflection.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“Where in the world are you taking me” Link led you determinedly by the hand, mischievous smile taken his face when he told you he had something to show you. Being wholly honest he could’ve shown you a wall of wet paint and you’d have watched it dry if it made him happy.

“You’re awfully impatient” Goddesses how you loved his voice, rare as it was. You could hear his sass, making you role your eyes in turn.

“You’re awfully secretive.” To be fair he couldn’t rebuke that, there was no lie in your words. So he simply kept moving onward.

Your breath was stolen as you looked at the lake in front of you. The familiar time-old cherry blossom in full bloom. A single pink petal fell, rippling against the clear water. You kept your hand weaved with Link’s as you maces closer. After admiring the scene before you your lips pursed to get out a word.

“Link- This- It’s utterly gorgeous” Your words were nearly gone with the wind, not wanting to intrude into the serenity with your words.

“Really is.” You turned to face him and his tender words to find his eyes already on yours. Now you were really speechless. His eyes were softened and cheeks slightly flushed as he took you in, memorising your face. And you found yourself doing the same, but there wasn’t much you hadn’t already noticed. The hairline scar aver his lip, sun spots over his cheeks from so long under the suns rays, wild sandy bangs obscuring his eyes from your view.

“One of the sights I want to hold onto and never let go” His words were equally as quiet now, as if he didn’t want even you to hear them. And in one of your rare moments of courage you found it in you to speak.

“Then don’t.” He took you in his arms so gently, wrapping himself around you as if you’d shatter. But even with that, you knew when you were flush that you’d never truly leave this moment. You were met with the same scent again, pine and grass. He pulled back sooner than what you would’ve liked, but he did not give you long to mourn the loss. A calloused hand gently traced your jaw before his eyes of the endless sky above met with yours again. He kissed you slow and longing, so long spent yearning for you that it bled into his affection. Link had always felt himself tugging you closer, wanting to enjoy the moment before he was forced to abandon it. And he always was.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

In hindsight, you did get too attached. But you wouldn’t blame yourself, how could you? You were given the chance to be love and be loved in return that you didn’t see how far you’d fall afterward. But maybe meeting the world with open arms really was worth it. Maybe finally figuring out your place in the world was worth it. And maybe letting yourself fall for a love you could never have was worth it as well. A shrill cry pierced the once cerulean blue sky as it bled carmine red. You knew how the story ended, so how foolish you were to hope you could avoid it.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

At 11:08pm In The Music Room, I Was Saved (Part 2)

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

Part 1

A/N: second and last part, lovelies. Thank you again anon for this prompt (I may have, once again, deviated from your original idea bear with me), and thank you @venablemayfairgoode for helping me figure out the end (tw: the death of a dog is mentioned :))))))) ). As always, English isn’t my first language. x

Word count:  ≈ 7 000

You were so fucking pissed. Also, you couldn’t stop crying. The world had ended on a beautiful late spring afternoon and now, for some reason, you were trapped in a gloomy building with people you didn’t know and the woman who had broken your heart bossing you around.

And the worst was, you had been so relieved to know she had survived. And you shouldn’t have. But the tears you had cried on the plane to Outpost 3 had not only been for your family and friends; they had also been for her. They had mostly been for her. And you hated yourself because of that.

She looked different. Her clothes were darker, her hair was darker, her eyes were darker and they were glazed. They looked as if they were made of stone. Tourmaline maybe. Something bad must have happened to her, but you decided you didn’t care. Bad things had happened to you, too, and one of them she had caused.

“There’s been a mistake,” she said, voice very deep and very slow. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t want to be here,” you sobbed.

“You were assigned at Outpost 2.”

You were so mad at her. Had she done this? Ripped you from your family and sent you to this dark place to spend the rest of your life consumed by grief and guilt and hatred? She couldn’t have done this, she wouldn’t have done this but then again and was that panic in her eyes? It was gone before you had time to take a good look at it, but you knew her. You knew how to read her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, as if you had chosen to, as if it had been your decision.

“Because some rude guys barged into my flat and shoved me into a plane,” you sobbed, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “I don’t want to be here,” you repeated.

“You should’ve been sent to Outpost 2,” she said. She was trying so hard to hide the confusion from her face, but you saw it, and you saw that flash in her eyes again and it was panic.

Suddenly it hit you: how could she know where you should have been sent? How could she –

“Did you…” It was hard to speak. Your throat was too tight. Your eyes widened with horror, and hers hardened. “Are you the reason why I’m here?”

You were vaguely aware that everyone else in the room was staring at you and Wilhemina. You should have felt ill-at-ease, should have felt shy. But all you could feel was anger.

“I don’t want to be here!” you cried again, but this time it was fierce. This time it was a cry of rage.

Wilhemina tapped her cane on the ground. The sound echoed off the walls.

“Better sad than dead,” she said coldly. And then she proceeded to ignore you as she explained the house rules.

You barely heard what she said. You were burning, and you couldn’t stop your tears from falling. This was not happening. You were in a dream. You would wake up and everything would be alright. You would count to ten and the nightmare would end.

You counted to ten. It didn’t end.  

What you did hear of Wilhemina’s speech sounded ridiculous. No technology? No sex? Death punishment for intimacy? People basically being your slaves? Her eyes were too cold. They were glazed. This wasn’t the Wilhemina you knew. The Wilhemina you knew had used cruelty for protection. This one used cruelty for fun.

A few people protested, but the protests didn’t last long. This Wilhemina was just as scary as the one you knew.

And then she was leaving, to the sound of her cane, every tap a stab to your heart. A Grey led you to your room and you collapsed on your bed, hugged your pillow, and cried.

The next few days you didn’t leave your room often. You felt so empty. You spent most of your time lying on your bed and grieving the people you had lost. You got up for lunch and dinner. Sat at the table and stared at your plate as the others tried to make small talk. The food cube had no taste. It felt like jelly in your mouth. You hated it. You hated having to swallow it. You hated how it never soothed the hunger in your stomach.

You sat on the left side of the table. Wilhemina sat at the head of it. The light from the candles would glint off your food cube and fork. Coco sat on your left, a girl named Mary on your right. Coco would do most of the talking. Complaining, really. Sometimes – but only sometimes – you would glance in Wilhemina’s direction. Once or twice, she met your eyes. Hers were cold and like a black hole.

After the first week your tears finally subsided. You spent more time in the music room with the others, playing board games, reading, talking. Coco was a bitch, but she made you laugh, and you soon befriended the girl named Mary. She was about your age, was very shy and didn’t speak often. She kept in her pocket a photo of the dog she had owned and loved more than anything else, a small, sweet thing with big black eyes named Sam.

You didn’t know how Wilhemina spent her days. You barely ever saw her. You could forget her, you thought, if you didn’t dream of her every night. You would forget her if only your stupid heart would stop skipping a beat and break into a gallop every time you heard the familiar sound of her cane, letting you know she was coming, she was coming! in a second you would see her and be near her and hear her voice. You would forget her if she wasn’t your first thought every damn morning when you woke up. If when she was near you, you didn’t feel like you were burning and suddenly became aware of every single sound that was her, the rustle of her dress, her breathing, her heart beating, her eyelashes fluttering, everything.

You barely ever saw her, but when you did, time stopped, and it lasted forever.

You fell into a routine. Aimless, dreary. Getting out of bed every morning. Eating your food cube. Making small talk with the other residents. A teary-eyed Mary showing you her picture of Sam. Trying not to think, not to remember. It went on like this for a week and a half, until two Greys were found having sex and were sentenced to death.

It was Mary who told you the news, just before dinner. At first you thought she was joking. But then every soul at the Outpost was talking about it and even Coco seemed scared.

You didn’t know the Grey girl, but you had spoken to the boy once or twice. His name was Mark. He smiled at you every time you would meet him in a corridor.

You ate your food cube in complete silence and shock. When dinner was over, when Wilhemina stood up and walked off, you didn’t think. You stood up, too, and followed her.

She didn’t become aware of your presence until she was halfway down the corridor to her room. You saw her slow down, come to a halt. She tapped her cane on the floor, then turned on her heel.

Time slowed down. You noticed every detail, even the smallest ones. The way the candlelight glided over her cheekbones as she turned. You were still so attuned to her, every inch of her.

You stopped breathing as her eyes locked with yours. And it would have been so easy, to take a step forward, to wrap your arms around her waist, to pull her close and go back home. It seemed her eyes were pleading you to do just that.

But then she blinked, and her eyes turned cold. Glazed. Tourmaline. You felt your body stiffen.

“May I speak to you?” you asked, almost a hiss. Then you added, “Ms Venable.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly at you, raised her chin. “I do not care to hear what you have to say,” she said coldly.

You took a step forward and snarled, “I will say it. You can either listen to me here, or in your room. Office. Whatever.”

Her nostrils flared, and for a second you thought she was going to slap you. You had seen her slap some of the other residents who had dared question her rules. That was one of the things the new Wilhemina had no problem doing.

But she merely nodded, almost imperceptibly, and led you to her room.

You tried not to look. At the bed, perfectly made, at the pillow where she laid her head every night. At the vanity where she did her hair and make-up every morning. All the small rituals you knew so well.

It hurt. Merely standing there in her room felt like someone was crushing your heart between cold fingers.  

You came to a halt in the middle of the room and tried to swallow past the lump in your throat. Wilhemina stopped in front of you, rested both her hands on the head of her cane.

How did she look so different? Why was her face so hard and so cold? She reminded you of the ancient statues of Greek or Italian gods. The powerful, lifeless stare. The dangerous power. How she could destroy you – how she had destroyed you – with one word or one tap of her cane on the floor.

You searched her face for the light, for the fear, for the love, the shyness and the boldness, the desire to be completely, truly seen and loved. You found nothing.

“Well?” she asked, annoyed, after a while.

You cleared your throat. “I heard you’re gonna have Mark and that Grey girl executed tomorrow morning.”

“You heard right,” she mocked.

You cleared your throat again. Your right hand twitched at your side. “Why?”

She made an annoyed noise. “You know why. They didn’t follow the rules. They put their own little disgusting needs first and compromised the group. We cannot have more mouths to feed.”

“Disgusting needs,” you repeated automatically. You took one step towards her and raised your head defiantly. “I don’t remember you calling sex ‘disgusting’ when we were doing it.”

Something flashed in her eyes. Something that almost looked familiar.

“Don’t be crude,” she hissed.

“You cannot have those two Greys killed,” you went on, ignoring her. “That’s murder, Wilhemina.”

Her name dropped from your mouth before you had time to think. You paused. She didn’t react.

“I know you’re better than that,” you added, taking another step towards her. Closer. You wanted to reach out and touch her. It seemed to you she was leaning forward, forward – towards you. It seemed to you her eyes flicked to your lips.

How you had missed her. How you missed her still. How you wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and demand an explanation as to why she had destroyed your world, stolen all the stars from your night sky. How had she dared, who did she think she was, and what had happened to her that had stolen all the light from her eyes?

“For God’s sake, Wilhemina,” you cried when still she didn’t react, didn’t speak, didn’t move, “you can’t kill two people for being in love!”

“Why not?”she hissed, low and dangerous, like a snake.”What’s so special about love?”

“You know what’s so special about love. You felt it.” A pause. “And don’t tell me you didn’t. You may think you were good at hiding your feelings, but you weren’t.”

Wilhemina’s gaze hardened. “Those two Greys will die tomorrow at dawn,” she answered emotionlessly.

You raised your hands in frustration. “What’s wrong with you?” you cried. Again, she didn’t react. Her silence only fueled your anger. “If you do that,” you went on, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from yelling the words, “if you have them killed, you’ll be walking down a path I cannot follow you on.” You gave a mirthless laugh. “But I guess you don’t care. Who am I kidding? You don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore. You made that clear months ago. But ask yourself this question, Wilhemina: will you be able to sleep knowing you’ve killed two innocent people?”

Oh, she would. Without a doubt she would. She knew it and you knew it and you saw it on her face. Yours turned sickly pale.

“Okay,” you mumbled, lowering your head in defeat. “Okay. I – you know what, I –“ You met her eyes again. “I don’t even know how I could fall in love with you in the first place.”

She swallowed, but her face remained blank. But that familiar something flashed in her eyes again, something sad, that looked almost like the Wilhemina she used to be.

You knew confronting her would likely make her shut down. You knew that. But you were only human, for God’s sake, and you had been hurt and betrayed and it was a well-known fact, that anger was stronger than Man.

So you took yet another step towards her and clenched your fists.

“I have questions,” you growled, “and you’re going to answer them. Why am I here? What made you think you could dump me with no explanation? Did you even love me, or was it all a game to you?”

By the end of your little outburst you were breathless, and Wilhemina, the Wilhemina you had tried to reach and caught a glimpse of, had been roughly locked away.

“Say one more word,” she enunciated, glazed, empty eyes staring right into yours,” and I’ll have you arrested and whipped every day until you meet your pitiful end.”

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off. “Don’t forget who you are, Y/N. I’m the only one who has authority here. If you question me or my rules again, I’ll make sure that insolent tongue of yours is nicely severed from the rest of your body. And don’t think I won’t enjoy watching.”

Your whole body was shaking. But it wasn’t with fear. It was with rage, and with something else you didn’t like at all, for that something else was love. Love that was terrified and aching because this wasn’t her, this wasn’t right, and part of you desperately wanted to make it right again.

Someone knocked on the door. Your eyes widened.

Don’t, you screamed at Wilhemina in your head. Ignore whoever it is. Talk to me. Let me in, let me help you, let me –

“Yes?” Wilhemina called.

The door opened, and Mary shyly stepped into the room. “I, um, I’m sorry to bother you,” she said in her sweet, low voice. “But, um, Y/N, I need your help with something.”

“Can’t it wait?” you asked her, your gaze not leaving Wilhemina’s face, your voice shaking, your body shaking with rage and love and ache.

“Obviously it cannot,” Wilhemina answered, eyes boring into you. “Or else little Mary wouldn’t have been brave enough to push that door open.”

Mary shot her a scared glance and immediately lowered her eyes again.

Send her off, you begged Wilhemina. Make me stay.

Her gaze was too intense, it was too cold, too dark. You lowered your head and turned to Mary.

“I lied,” Mary whispered once she had closed the door behind you two. She glanced up at you with a smile. “I don’t need your help with anything. I just thought I should come and rescue you.”

You swallowed. Your body was still shaking, and you couldn’t unclench your fists. “Right.”

“I heard her threaten you. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you retorted sharply.

Wilhemina wouldn’t hurt you, you thought. She had only tried to scare you, to push you away. She would never carry out her threat.

But then again. You didn’t know what this new Wilhemina was capable of. Fear vaguely sang in your chest. Maybe she had meant every word.

“If there’s anything I can do to help you,” Mary was saying, “please tell me. I’ll be happy to listen.”

You thanked her, told her you wanted to be alone, and went to your room.

**

Wilhemina had decided the execution would be public to set an example. All the residents of Outpost 3 gathered in the music room and the two Greys who were to die were ordered to sit down on their knees in the middle of the room. They were both crying. Pathetic. Weak. Wilhemina looked down on them and smiled to herself.

A guard walked in with a gun. The Grey boy whimpered.

Someone – the hairdresser – mumbled something, a protest probably, but he was too scared to say it loudly. The old lady who had once been a star nodded at Wilhemina and gave her a smile and a thumbs up. Wilhemina ignored her.

You were standing in front of her slightly on her left, by Mary’s side. Wilhemina was trying not to pay you attention, but somehow you were the only person she could see.

You spent an awful lot of time with Mary, she had noticed. Laughing together, talking together, napping together. Good thing for you. Mary was just the type of person who would treat you right. She’d be kind, and happy, and healthy, and enough.

The Grey boy said something, pleaded for his life, probably. Wilhemina didn’t care. She didn’t listen. She nodded to the guard, and he crossed to him, holding the gun in front of him.

Wilhemina saw Mary grab your hand, saw you touch your shoulder to hers. Oh, you would be alright.

She didn’t know why, but her eyes had started to sting. Her hands were shaking. She willed them not to. They would not stop.

The guard raised his gun, pointed it at the Grey boy’s head, but Wilhemina didn’t see him, not really. She saw you turn your head and look at her, your eyes glossy and pleading, your hand holding Mary’s, and Wilhemina took a sharp intake of breath and felt tears pool in her eyes for she had loved and loved you and she had lost you. And now she was losing you again.

But she couldn’t go back, not now. She would lose her authority, she would be laughed at. And besides, she didn’t want to. This execution was the right thing to do. It would make everyone at the Outpost fear and respect her. They would bow their heads to her and they would hate her but they would never, never laugh at her.

There was a low but fierce shout, “Stop!” Your voice.

The guard lowered his arm slightly. He looked at you, confused, then at Wilhemina, awaiting orders. You stepped forward, letting go of Mary’s hand, came to a halt as if you weren’t sure what to do. A second passed. Then you crossed to Wilhemina, cupped her face in your hands, searched her eyes and murmured, “I love you.”

Something inside of her melted. The warmth from your touch and the warmth from your voice seeped into her and turned ice into water. The water washed down everything and left her insides dripping wet and glinting in the sun like after a hurricane.

You had spoken too low for the others to hear, but they saw the change on Wilhemina’s face. They saw her eyes widen and the light weave in as if she had opened a blind to let the sun in. They saw life and emotion settle back on her face and soften it.

For the first time since the world had ended, since you had walked into this music room sobbing and looked up and met Wilhemina’s eyes, you found her again. And you fell in love with her all over again.

You tried to give her a smile, and it was small and quivering, but it was genuine. It was fond. Wilhemina’s lips parted on a breath as she searched your eyes, wondering, hoping, and when she blinked a tear rolled down her cheek and you caught it with your thumb. You were crying, too, but you smiled again, stroke her cheek. You felt the tension leave your shoulders.

The gunshot echoed off the walls as loud as a crack of thunder. It made everyone in the room jump. The Grey girl screamed as Mark slumped onto the floor at the guard’s feet. The guard moved his hand, pointed his gun at the girl and pulled the trigger.

The second gunshot was louder, somehow. It deafened you and left a ringing in your ears. Your hands fell from Wilhemina’s face as you both turned to stare at the two corpses. Blood slowly pooled around them and shone faintly in the candlelight.

The guard met your horrified gaze and shrugged. “Following orders,” he said nonchalantly. “It was taking too long.”

Wilhemina was staring down at the two dead bodies with an unreadable expression on her face. Then she looked up at the guard, and her eyes were glazed again.

“I didn’t order you to shoot,” she said coldly.

“You did,” the guard argued.

“She told you to stop,” Wilhemina said, nodding at you, her voice growing angry now.

The guard shrugged again. “I only take my orders from you.” He raised his gun and held it to his chest, a defiant look in his eyes.

Someone in the room was crying softly. You didn’t know who. Your mind had gone numb.

Wilhemina turned away from you. Slowly, regally, she walked to the corpses, her dark, glazed eyes fixed on the boy’s head. She stopped in front of him and tapped her cane on the ground. Then she gave orders to carry the corpses outside and burn them.

Dinner was silent that night. You swallowed your food cube and drank your water. You couldn’t look at Wilhemina. Coco tried to diffuse the tension with a few sly remarks that made some of the residents laugh nervously. When dinner was over, you excused yourself and went to your room.

You lay on your bed and prayed for sleep, but sleep, unsurprisingly, didn’t come. You turned and turned until you gave up. You sat up with a groan and buried your face in your hands.

Blood, slowly pooling. The two bodies, not moving. Wilhemina’s eyes, widening. A tear rolling down her face, that you caught with your thumb. You couldn’t chase those images from your mind.

It hadn’t been her fault, not really, you told yourself. She would have spared them in the end. You knew it. Without a doubt.

You buried your fingers in your hair, dug your nails into your skull. She would have spared them, for the Wilhemina you knew had come back, if only for a few seconds – and she had been hopeful, and you had been, too.  

And you knew you should still be mad, you knew it was too early to forgive her. But you were ready to surrender and fall back into her arms the second she’d want you back. If she ever decided she wanted you back.

There was a whisper, in your head, that assured you she did.

At 11:00pm you gave up on trying to sleep. You got up and went to the music room, hoping someone would be there and would like to talk to help you pass the time. Maybe Coco, for she would make you laugh. Or Mary, for her kindness would soothe you.

There was only one person, and it was Wilhemina. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. You thought it was because of annoyance, or disappointment maybe. Bullshit, your heart told you. She had been the one you had wanted to find.

Wilhemina was sitting in an armchair, her hands resting on the head of her cane, her eyes fixed on the fire. She raised her head when she heard your footsteps, and met your eyes.

“What are you still doing up?” she asked, not unkindly.

“There’s no curfew I know of,” you replied, probably too sharply, but Wilhemina didn’t seem to mind. She nodded, then resumed her staring at the fire.

For a minute you hesitated. Going back to your room was the wisest and safest option. But before you had consciously taken your decision, your feet moved towards Wilhemina. A moth drawn to a flame. Always, when it came to her.

You sat on the armchair opposite the hearth from her. For a long moment there was only silence. The fire crackled lazily and warmed you up.  

You glanced up at Wilhemina, only to realize she was staring at you. You quickly lowered your gaze, nervously shifted in your armchair, then glanced at her again.  

The expression on her face wasn’t closed, you noticed. There was a wistfulness to it, some sprinkles of curiosity, too. You felt hopeful again.

“So,” you said, assuming a casual tone as if you two were having a friendly conversation in a bar, “what’s your plan in the long run?”

Wilhemina watched you for a few seconds before she answered. Her voice was emotionless. “The Cooperative should contact me soon enough with new instructions.”

That’s not what you had meant. You had meant about her and you. But you let it drop.

“So you’re still following orders, uh?” you taunted. “I thought you were the only boss around here.”

“This is bigger than this outpost,” Wilhemina replied coldly. “This is about building a new, better world, where everyone is at their rightful place according to their worth and abilities.”

“What is my rightful place in this new world, do you think?” You waited, but no answer came.”What is yours?” you tried again. “Let me guess. You are the feared, hated leader. Making sure everyone respects you, making sure everyone survives. Noble work, but it sounds awfully lonely. Wouldn’t you rather fall asleep in somebody’s arms every night?”

Wilhemina’s expression hardened. She kept silent, which surprised you, and averted her eyes from your face to stare at the fire again.

You watched her. You watched the shadows the flames threw on her face. Followed the arch of her brow, the line of her mouth.

Had she done something to her hair, or was it the dim light? It was darker now. She had let you dye it once when you two had been dating. You had frowned at the smell and coughed and splashed the walls with tiny dots of orange. Wilhemina had tried to scold you, but she had burst into laughter instead, her hair piled on top of her head. She had let you wipe the dye splatters from her face and tuck her hair in a shower cap. And while the dye processed, she had sat on the couch reading and you had rested your head on her lap and grinned at her.  

Wilhemina cleared her throat, bringing you back to reality.

“What you said earlier, did you really mean it?” she asked in a low voice, still staring at the fire. “Or were you only trying to save the Greys?”

You leaned forward, digging your elbows into your thighs. “I’ll answer that once you’ve answered my own question. Why did you leave me?”

A pause. An annoyed look.

“Because I felt like it,” Wilhemina replied.

Your jaw dropped. “Wow. Because you felt like it?” You shook your head, anger rising in your chest. “I don’t believe you. I’ll ask it again. Why did you leave me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve just told you why. It’s not my fault you’re too proud to accept it.”

“Why did you leave me?” you repeated, clenching your fists.

Wilhemina made an angry noise. She tapped her cane on the floor, then slowly stood up. You jumped on your feet and followed her when she crossed the room and turned right down a corridor.

“Did you wake up one morning and realize you didn’t love me?” you called, as she opened the door to her room. You stepped inside after her. “You’d had your fun, but now it was time to plan the end of the world? Uh? Do you have any idea,” you growled, voice growing louder and angrier, “how it felt to watch you leave without even knowing what I did wrong?”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Wilhemina said, voice quavering.

“Then why the fuck did you leave?” you growled, taking one step toward her. “Tell me! For fuck’s sake, I deserve an explanation!”

She couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. She was staring at the floor and her breathing was quickening at it always would when she was trying not to cry. And suddenly you were in the company of the Wilhemina you knew, the one you loved, the one who didn’t think she should be soft and kind but was still willing to try, for you.

“Elijah came to see me,” she answered, so low you barely heard it.

“So what?” you growled. “You fucked him and realized he was your one true love?”

She winced, and you bit your cheek, thinking that maybe you had gone a bit too far. But she deserved it, part of you thought. She had hurt you too badly.

You waited, but she didn’t add anything after that. So, rage beating inside your chest instead of your heart, you strode to her and planted yourself right in front of her, fuming, and she flinched but held her ground.

“Tell me,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “Why did you leave me?”

She drew in a breath, turned away from you and crossed to her chest of drawers. You were about to yell at her when she opened one of the drawers, closed it again. She crossed back to you and dropped something into your hand.

A lighter. Small and black and plain. You stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“What…?”

Wilhemina had never been good with words. But when you two had been dating, she had been willing to open herself up to you in any way she could. Actions sometimes were easier, she had found.

You glanced up at her, then back down at the lighter in your palm. “I don’t understand,” you said.

Wilhemina had averted her gaze from you again. “I couldn’t pick it up from the floor,” she whispered brokenly.

It didn’t hit you all at once like a revelation. Instead it felt like something spreading inside your head. A bubble. Slowly inflating until it burst.

“What?”

Somehow, it was the only thing you could say.

Wilhemina squared her shoulders, raised her chin, built up her walls. She met your eyes and glared.

“You got what you wanted. Now leave before I feed you to the monsters outside.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but instead you burst into tears.

Your chin dropped to your chest and you sobbed, as Wilhemina stared at you in shock. She extended one hand towards you, hesitated, changed her mind. Her brow pushed up in confusion and concern as she waited for you to calm down, dying to touch and comfort you, but not daring to. She had lost you, after all. She hadn’t been enough.

Some people are just too fucked up to be loved, Elijah had said. She could hear his voice now as if he were saying it again, remembered his exact intonation, the way he had pronounced every syllable.

“It’s alright,” she tried after a little while. “He was right.”

“Who was right?” you sobbed, wiping your eyes.

“Elijah. I did the right thing for you.”

That made you burst into tears again. Except this time, you wrapped your arms around Wilhemina’s waist and pulled her close.

She stiffened against you, but you buried your face in her chest and held her tight and cried and cried at how blind you had been. Your heart broke, but this time it didn’t break for you. It broke for her. For how low her self-esteem was, how she had tried over and over again to be kinder and softer and yet had still been convinced loving her was a burden. Loving her had been the best thing in your whole goddamn life.

Tentatively, Wilhemina slipped one arm around your waist and rested her chin on top of your head.

“I’m gonna bring Elijah back from Hell and kill him,” you mumbled against her chest.

“But he didn’t do anything wrong,” Wilhemina replied. “He was right. All he did was love you so much he only wanted the best for you.”

You shook your head, wailing as Wilhemina brought her free hand up to your head and started stroking your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked. “I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina’s fingers stuttered in your hair. “What for?” she asked, and you couldn’t see her face but you knew what her expression must be like right now, brow pushed up in confusion, eyes wide as she tried to think of something to say or do to help you calm down.

You sobbed against her chest and tightened your grip on her. “I’m so sorry he did this to you and I let him.”

“I don’t –“She paused, hesitated. “I don’t understand,” she breathed after a moment, which only made you cry harder.

You felt her body stiffen again. “No no no, please don’t cry,” she pleaded. Her hand hovered over your head, afraid to touch you now. “I’ll stop talking, I’m sorry, I’m going to shut up. But please don’t cry.”

You clung to her, clutching the back of her dress, wishing that you could… you didn’t really know what. Let her creep inside of you, let her nestle by your heart so the outside world could never hurt her ever again.

When you had calmed down enough to speak, you asked her what Elijah had told her exactly. You wanted to hear every word, so you could erase them from her brain and replace them with words of truth and love.

You had expected her to refuse, to shut down and keep silent. But to your utter surprise, she let out a shaky breath, pressed her cheek against your head, and started to speak.

It was barely a whisper, and at first she paused and hesitated every second or so; but then, words poured out of her, ashamed and painful. You closed your eyes against a fresh wave of tears as you listened.

It didn’t last long. When she was done, her whole body slackened and you tightened your grip on her, afraid she was going to collapse on the floor. She didn’t, though. She nuzzled your hair and sighed.

She hadn’t broken up with you because of you. She had done it for you. Or at least, she had thought so. And it made everything worse, for you had said hurtful things to her. Accused her of things that had never even crossed her mind. Rubbed salt on the wound.

Not your fault, said a voice in your head. You hadn’t known.

After a quiet moment had passed, you took a deep breath and pulled away. Wilhemina let out a faint noise of protest, but you cupped her face and locked eyes with her.

“Have you ever thought that, maybe,” you whispered, offering her a small, teary smile, “I’m the only one who can decide what and who’s enough for me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes widened a bit. You gave her another smile, then let go of her face and looked around the room.

“You said Elijah told you you could never be enough for me and you believed him,” you said, gathering unlit candles in your hands. “I know this kind of thoughts don’t go away easily. I know it takes time and work. But let me show you something.”

You came to a halt in front of Wilhemina and held out the lighter. She glanced at it, then met your eyes, frowning. You leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her mouth. Wilhemina’s lips parted on a breath as you pulled away.

You smiled. “Let’s pretend these candles are my heart. Shush, let me finish. Sit down. Let me show you how you light up my heart.”

You set the first candle down on the bedside table. “Remember the day we met at the supermarket? I was blocking the aisle with my cart and you snapped at me. Told me my ass was too big for this world.” You chuckled softly at the memory. “My life was so boring before that day. I hadn’t realized it, but it lacked challenges, it lacked passion. It’s like my brain was asleep, and with just a few words, you awoke it.”

You flicked the lighter and lit the candle. The flame flickered, then grew. You glanced at Wilhemina, gave her a smile.

“Remember the first time we made love?” Wilhemina’s eyes were riveted on the burning candle. You bit your lower lip, set a second candle on the chest of drawers. “You were so nervous, and you tried to hide it, but Mina, honestly, I can tell you now, you weren’t very successful. You thought you would hurt me or not know how to pleasure me. Remember how many times you made me come that night? You’re a great lover, Mina. And you sure have talent in these fingers and tongue of yours,” you teased. Wilhemina’s eyes, wide and shining, flicked to you. “But do you know what you’re even better at? The way you take care of me after. The way you cannot seem to be able to stay away, how you always snuggle up to me and hold me and ask me if it was good.” You lit up the second candle.

You took a third one, put it on the floor by the door. “Remember my birthday?” you went on. “I’d spent the last one alone. You brought me breakfast in bed, bought me flowers and a cake.”

“I ruined your birthday cake,” Wilhemina whispered sadly.

You shook your head, flicking the lighter again. “But you bought it. For me. To celebrate me.”

You crossed to the other side of the room, set two candles on the vanity. “I don’t know if you’re even aware you did it, but you’d always fluff my pillow when you’d make our bed in the morning. You’d never fluff yours. Only mine.”

Wilhemina let out a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“It’s only one example of all the things you did that made me feel so loved. Like how you’d always buy pears even though you don’t like the taste of them, just because you knew I do. Or how you read the whole of War and Peace just because I said it’s one of my favorite books. That’s more than a thousand pages, Mina.” Your voice broke as your lips parted on a smile. “You didn’t even think it was that good. But you read the whole thing. Valentine’s Day. You said you hated Valentine’s Day. You bought me flowers and chocolates and tickets for Carmen. Front row center seats, Mina.”

You were crying again by now, but these tears were happy. You set the last candle by the bed. “You made sure I’d survive the Apocalypse. It was you, wasn’t it? I don’t know how you did it, but I’m sure it was you. I used to be mad at you for having saved me but left all my friends and family to die. But you saved me. Gave me another chance at life. Because you still cared about me.”

Wilhemina sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of her hand. You walked around the bed and took her hand.

The whole room was studded with bright, dancing dots of light, as if you had stuck your head into the night sky. Wilhemina’s hand was shaking, but she laced her fingers with yours and gave them a tight squeeze.

“So, you see,” you whispered, “see how bright you make my heart shine.”

A sob pushed out of Wilhemina’s throat. She wrapped her free arm around her waist, hugging herself as she cried. You leaned towards hers, bumping her shoulder with yours. For a while she didn’t move; then she, tentatively, laid her head on your shoulder. And then, as you did not protest, did not push her away, she slipped her arm around your waist and pulled you close.

Her hand cupped your face and her mouth crashed against yours as she sobbed and you sobbed and kissed her fervently back. How you had missed this. How you had missed her. One of your arms wrapped around her shoulders to press her closer still, tongue sliding inside her mouth. You were shaking, entirely too hot and so, so alive.

Something seemed to break loose inside Wilhemina. She let out a noise like a whimper, and suddenly she was crying over and over again “I’m so sorry” and “please” and “don’t go”. You pulled away slightly, cupped her face to make her look at you.

“I’m not leaving,” you whispered. “I forgive you.”

Her shoulders slumped with relief as another sob pushed up her throat. “But what about Mary?” she hiccupped.

You frowned, stroking her cheek. “What about Mary?”

“And what about the two Greys?” she went on, voice growing frantic and breathless. “What about the rules? I’ll hurt you again, I’ll hold you back, I’m too fucked up –“

“None of that,” you shushed her gently.

“But I –“

“No.” A kiss on her mouth, slow and sweet, meant to reassure. You tugged softly at her lip, and she moaned, dug her fingers into your skin. She let out a breath that went all the way down into your lungs, and sank into you.

After a moment, she rested her cheek on your shoulder and opened her eyes to look at all the lighted candles. You held her, stroking the nape of her neck, rubbing circles on her back.

The candles were burning. They lit up the room.

Tag list:  @sapphicsarahpaulson @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers   @coconutlipss ​ @saucy-sapphic​  @thesupremewife @coxmicbabygirl

[mrsgiovanna]

The Request (Don Giorno x Fem! Reader)

I don't really know what to call this, it's just an idea that's been living in my head for a while. Kind of disorganised... Just like my thoughts in general 💭😅

TW : possessive, somewhat yandere Behaviour, part 5 spoilers.

The sharp clattering of your heels against the exquisite marble floor was the only sound to break the silence. You walked briskly, a woman on a mission no doubt. Today would be the day you try and pry back a morsel of the freedom you lost when you took up residence with your overbearing lover all those years go. As you make your way to your destination you wonder how you got to this point, you couldn’t fathom how such a small request could require as much effort and preparation. This is definitely a far cry from when you first met the green-eyed charmer. Falling for him was as simple as falling asleep, it happened slowly, softly, being lulled by his velvety voice, and then all at once.

By the time you realized you were pulled into a dream, your surroundings morphed into a nightmare. Not the kind with hideous monsters blatantly chasing after your blood, no, this was the more dangerous kind- the eerily beautiful kind without anything to swiftly jolt you awake.

You’d finally reached your destination on the east wing of the mansion, a large, ornately carved mahogany door, with golden accents on the vines that decorated its frame. You paused, in part to compose yourself, but also to think about whether or not you were ready for the consequences that would follow this conversation, if you could even call it one.

“Come in”.

 You steeled yourself, briefly gazing to your left to look at yourself in the gold-framed mirror that took up most of that wall. You smoothed down your hair, and made sure your expertly applied makeup was still in place. A quick adjustment of your designer dress and a stern glare into your sparkling eyes gave you the courage you needed to knock on the door.

“Good morning amore mio, its rather early for you to be awake and that dressed up. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

It was all the invitation you needed as you opened the heavy door and slowly walked in. Greeted by your lover’s soft smile, you felt your heart waver, but your resolve returned when you noticed that that smile had not reached his emerald eyes.

You were taken aback by the tenderness in his voice, wondering how he could sound so gentle while his eyes looked so intimidating. You were jolted out of your reverie as he softly cleared his throat.

“Giorno, I … I was hoping to speak to you about something… its rather important.”

You’d slightly grimaced at your choice of words, feeling your resolve slowly dissipating, you had come here to make a demand but ended up phrasing it as a tentative suggestion… but the door was opened now, and you’d have to follow through. All the months of behaving and complying with the countless rules, all the subtle warnings, they simply couldn’t count for naught, not after being so careful.

Giorno had looked at his beloved and motioned for her to continue. He mused about what his wife would want to pick his brain about, in fact he knew exactly what she wanted but he put that thought to the back of his mind as it was the one thing he could absolutely not allow.

 “Gio, please let me go to the city, I need to see Paolo, he’s not doing too well and desperately needs my help… and I’m all the family he has left.” You tried to keep your voice from cracking but failed, speaking about your brother was always painful. Even though he was a year older than you, you had always taken care of him. You had even ended up joining the gang to pay off his drug debts. Despite numerous stays at the best rehab facilities that money could buy, he just couldn’t manage to stay sober. You had to admit that it hurt you to see the pathetic state your brother was in, considering how much you had lost when you helped Giorno betray Diavolo and usurp Passione to reform it.

Bruno’s death was especially difficult for you to deal with as he was the one anchoring force in a life filled with instability. You mourned the deaths of your friends for a long time, however, the one loss you found the most difficult to contend with was the one you hadn’t even been aware of until it was too late.

You stared hopefully at the man you so desperately loved, hoping against all possibilities that the answer would be a favorable one. His gaze shifted, he looked down pensively as you sat across him drinking in the ethereal beauty that Giorno embodies. He’s matured so much, you think to yourself, his face having lost that innocent quality, was now sharp and handsome, as if it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. This was offset by the luxurious mane that cascaded down his back and over his shoulder like liquid gold, favoring to wear his hair loose now, in stark contrast to the immaculate braid he worn when you had first met him.  His tailored suits hugged all the contours of his well-built frame, he was indeed a sight to behold, however, his eyes- his eyes unsettled you. You felt as if they stared directly into your soul.

It had been a few years after Giorno had taken over Passione that your friendship had blossomed into something more. Slowly falling, date after date, feelings intensified and it wouldn’t be long before you two were inseparable. Soon after, you noticed Giorno becoming a little more involved in your life, but that’s what happens when you’re in a relationship you reasoned to yourself, however, as time went on, his gentle grasp had turned into a vice-like grip. You blamed it on the traumatic events of your shared past, but there was something else there that you couldn’t quite fathom.  So you had stayed silent, slowly losing more and more freedom until you were completely under the Don’s control. You cursed your complacency for letting it come to this, however, you loved Giorno, and you would never, ever want to hurt him, regardless of how his actions may have hurt you.

“Bella”, the sound of his voice brought you out of your thoughts for the second time this morning.

“As much as I’d love to let you go, it’s simply too dangerous to be anywhere near a place like that, nor can I allow him anywhere near this safe haven I’ve painstakingly created for us.”

 You were just about to interject with the argument you’d rehearsed so many times, when his sharp glare had silenced you. You recoiled back into your chair, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Upon seeing this, Giorno’s heart broke. When had you become this afraid of him? Had all his measures to keep you safe from harm manifest in him becoming your biggest threat? All he had ever wanted was to keep you safe.

He had lost so much... precious allies had been violently ripped away from him, he was fully aware that fate could be a cruel mistress. Losing you as well was not an option. Being the Don of Passione came with many perks, he basically held the entire of Italy in the palm of his elegant hand. Only the best was good enough for his principessa, and he was able to give this to you. But every fairytale has to have a villain, or in this case, a series of villains, sent to weaken him or eradicate him altogether. When these people had realized it was virtually impossible to counter his stand ability, they found other ways to attempt to bring him to his knees, and that involved hurting you. Numerous attempts at both his and your lives successfully thwarted without your knowledge had only further cemented Giorno’s belief that the only way to keep you safe was through isolation.

With the finality of his tone, you gave up on your little mission and melted into his embrace. You mentally chided yourself for not putting up more of a fight, but there was something in the way that Giorno held you that fractured your already fragile heart. The slight tremble of his arms and the uneven breathing were evidence enough that he was extremely conflicted by something, and that his decisions were not made from malicious intentions... Perhaps... You just wished he would let you in, that he wouldn’t shoulder this burden on his own. You wanted to close the gap between you two, and with that you made a silent promise to yourself and him, that you would heal your fractured hearts, no matter the cost.

“I’m sorry amore mio, I know I’m being cruel, but… there are many things at play… one day you will understand.”

Giorno knew his words sounded condescending, he knew that with each time he refused your small requests, the divide between you two grew larger, but he was determined to protect you, no matter the cost. All he could do was savor this warmth and the way you clung desperately to his form.

 The last thing he wanted was for you to be unhappy or scared, so telling you about these affairs was not an option… perhaps until now. Seeing the tears pooling in your eyes was almost too much for him to bear, he needed to comfort you despite feeling guilty for being the reason you’re in this state. He slowly made his way toward you, seating himself next to you, he wrapped you in a warm embrace. That action only encouraged your tears to flow freely, being soaked up by the expensive fabric of his suit. With each soft sob, Giorno felt his heart would shatter.

[quokkacore]

son of wolves IV [park chanyeol and byun baekhyun]

summary: your entire life, you’ve fought bravely to defend the walls of your home from the evil forest spirits of the spearwood trying to destroy it, alongside your family, friends, and your betrothed, baekhyun. until you’re infected by the evil that resides in one of these spirits, and you run away from home, before it can spread to those around you. it’s in your exile, wandering through the spearwood that you meet the wolf prince, a tall man of hardened eyes, few words, and a fiery temperament, raised by these spirits you’ve so grown to resent. it’s here that you begin to question everything you’ve ever known, and wonder whether the evil was out here, in the forest, or inside the walls of a place you once called home.

pairings: hunter!baekhyun x reader, wolfprince!chanyeol x reader

genre: reverse princessmononoke!au, ANGST, fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fantasy epic, war au, wolf!au

warnings: reader was drugged, language, MAJOR violence tw (gun violence and stabbing to be specific), animal death, threats of violence, loss of consciousness due to head trauma, body horror, horrible writing!!!

song recs: leave a trace - chvrches // lost it to trying - son lux // i will never die - delta rae // the legend of ashitaka - joe hisaishi // victory song - stray kids // pray for me // the weeknd & kendrick lamar // garden song - phoebe bridgers 

word count: 10.0k

a/n: im srry this is so late pls dnt hate me

this is the final chapter of sow!! i’m so glad i finally finished it. i love this fic, i really do. but this is SOO overdue.

main masterlist // story masterlist

A fog hung over your head. You could barely see three feet in front of you, and everything was hazy. What you knew was that you were in the inner circle—it wasn't as cold. The sound of paws and feet crunching against the snow wasn't that far away from you. It stopped a few seconds later.

"Hello?" You called, slowly walking towards the sound. "Chanyeol?"

Again, the sound of paws and feet, but this time in the opposite direction. You reeled, now unsure of which way to go. A sense of dread was beginning to pool in your stomach. 

"Sehun? Junmyeon?" Your voice was small and shaky, taking one step forward. "Chanyeol?"

You stood still, waiting for a sign, a sound. The forest was dead silent. When you tried to take a step forward, your body turned rigid. Every single hair on your body stood straight up. 

And then, you began to shake. Just as the fog cleared, and two figures appeared in front of you. Both of them beaten bloody, chests heaving, eyes burning with rage. Chanyeol's shirt was torn, and there was a cut running across his chest, staining the ruined fabric. Tears were streaking his dirt stained face. 

Baekhyun's left cheek was swollen, quickly turning purple. His right cheek was bleeding. But he seemed more steady. His sword was drenched in drying blood. 

And then you noticed the wolves. 

All four of Chanyeol's brothers lay dying all around them, warm crimson melting the snow as they bled out. You could hear them whining in pain as they did, legs twitching in pain. 

You tried to call out to them, but you choked on black tendrils, bursting through your throat. Your jawbone cracked as they did, tremors wracking your body as you gagged on your cries of pain. All you could do was watch in horror as they charged at each other, hurling curses and obscenities at each other. 

The tremors in your body intensified, your injured arm cracking as the black, oily coils shot forward, wrapping around your throat.

Spots danced across your vision, your head beginning to pound as you couldn't breathe. Your vision lost focus, eyes blurring with tears. 

The last thing you saw was Baekhyun's sword impaling Chanyeol's chest, the iron bursting through his back. As his younger brother's blood splattered across his face and neck, Baekhyun's face broke into a sadistic grin. 

A horrible laugh rang throughout the forest, and you awoke with a start, hands grabbing at your neck to unwrap inky coils that weren't there. You were sweating and your chest was heaving.

Slowly, you sat up, blinking furiously to allow your eyes to adjust to the sunlight. You could tell that it was still relatively early, maybe before nine.  When you caught your breath, you wiped the sweat off of your brow. Your throat felt itchy and your head was pounding. Getting up was one thing, walking to the door was another. You were disoriented and dizzy, nauseous, even. You jiggled the door, and sighed when it wouldn’t budge. 

You glanced towards the window, even though you knew it was too small for you to jump out of. Rubbing your temples and letting out a deep sigh, you tried to push all of the events of last night to the back of your mind, Baekhyun’s betrayal refusing to fade to the back of your head. You lay down on the bed again, processing everything you knew now.

You loved Baekhyun, you really did. Yesterday morning, when he had kissed you, you felt relieved that you were in his arms again. 

But Baekhyun’s kisses, contrary to what you had originally thought, no longer felt as comforting or as safe. Even before he had thrown you to the wolves, metaphorically speaking. Chanyeol’s lips on yours permeated your mind, the memory stuck in your head. 

You found that the more you tried to pull away from the thought of that tall, mysterious man, the tighter his grip became—deep down, you knew that only in coming closer would you be released. Vaguely, it reminded you of the toy your father had brought you once when you were a child, woven out of thin strips of bamboo. Sticking your index fingers in, and then trying to pull them out was impossible, as the toy stretched and its hold got tighter. However, when you pushed them together, the toy expanded, and your fingers were released.

Were three weeks even long enough to fall in love? Two, considering the fact that the first week he basically wanted to kill you? You weren’t sure. All you knew was that right now, Chanyeol’s safety, as well as that of his brothers and of Selyne, was all you wanted.

Your thoughts were interrupted with the sound of the front door. You turned to face the door, waiting with bated breath. Had they returned so soon?

You were disappointed when the bedroom door swung open, Yixing standing awkwardly in the doorway. He stared at you, emotionlessly, before he sighed and stepped inside. Your eyes watched his every move like a hawk, and scowled at him when he sat down on the chair where your clothes were. 

“I’m here to do a check-up,” He told you, “You’re still recovering.”

“What, from my cold induced madness or the huge stab wound in my back?” You spat. He looked down, face not changing. He almost looked ashamed.

“I’m sorry you see it that way.” His voice was quiet. “I brought you some food and some water. You can eat that and then we can get started. I know you must be hungry.”

He pulled out a bowl wrapped in fabric, as well as a canteen from his bag. When he showed you what was inside—rice and some beef—you lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. After last night, you weren't sure you ever wanted to eat anything again. Yixing shook his head once he realized. Which meant he knew.

"There's nothing in it," He said, sounding earnest. "I promise, Y/N." 

You would have refused, but the pounding in your head seemed to be unending. It didn’t take long for your resolve to crack. You drank almost all of the water in the canteen, and you practically inhaled the meal. 

“The troops left three hours ago. About a hundred and twenty soldiers total. Baekhyun, Minseok and Jongdae are leading them,” He informed you, fiddling with his clothes and staring at the walls. 

You didn’t reply, too angry to do so.

When you finished, you allowed him to do his check up. He asked you about how you were feeling, how certain parts of your body felt, like your legs and your chest, if you’d been feeling dizzy or nauseous. He was done fairly quickly, and as he packed away the now empty bowl, spoke up again.

“Remember the time Jongdae dared me to sneak out into the Spearwood when we were younger?”

“When Minseok misfired and shot you?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. How could I forget after the way your dad almost punched Min?”

He let out a soft chuckle, but there was no joy behind it. “I spent about three hours out there. I never told you guys, but I got lost pretty quickly. I panicked once I realized I didn’t know where I was. I thought I was gonna get killed by some animal in the name of the gods or something. You know how I panic.”

You nodded, humming, unsure of where he was going. “It was summertime,” He continued, “So it wasn’t as quiet as it is now. And about halfway through those three hours, I heard branches snapping behind me, and… this thing sounded big, Y/N. I-I just about shit my pants when I turned. Because I had never seen a bear so close to me before, and it was huge, and it was headed towards me.”

He looked up at you, eyes full of awe. “I was so freaked out, it didn’t occur to me to try and shoot it or to play dead or anything. All I could do was stand there, trying not to scream or provoke it. It walked right past me, and kept walking straight. I thought I should run or hide, until it turned back to look at me and… she spoke to me. Well, not speak, it was more like—”

“Like an echo in your mind,” You said, sitting up straight, “That… that was Mirren.”

He nodded, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “She wasn’t anything like they told us she would be. She was so… kind, and gentle. She knew I was afraid, and she promised she wouldn’t hurt me if I didn’t hurt her. And I was a 19 year old idiot who had a sword. I wasn’t going to try and kill a goddess. So I followed her, and she took me as far as she could without being seen. We barely spoke. But when she told me to keep going, because that was as far as she could go safely, I was so grateful. I… I never would have expected that kind of mercy and kindness from one of the gods, not after everything we were taught. And then twenty minutes later I got back to the wall and Minseok misfired.”

Yixing furrowed his eyebrows, staring at his hands in his lap. “That Chanyeol guy. He’s pretty much the only link between the human world and the forest, right?”

You nodded.

“So if he died or if Selyne died… the forest would lose its only possible bridge between the two. And that would make it harder for them to understand us, or to communicate easily.”

Again, you nodded. Yixing shrugged. “For us, that’s a good thing. The gods would have to communicate directly with us, and we could take them down when they’re vulnerable.”

You nodded, looking to the side and gnawing on the inside of your cheek. Why he felt the need to rub it in made no sense to you, why would he—

“Which is why it would be a shame if you were to escape.”

Your head snapped forward to look at him, eyes widening. He sighed, obviously nervous. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “It would be a shame if you were to overpower me and lock me in this room. An even bigger shame if you were to know that your bow and quiver are in the stables, and that the guards patrolling the east gate change shifts in about… fifteen minutes. A huge shame, really.” 

You just about stopped breathing, staring at him wordlessly. Yixing raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you going to do anything or do I have to knock myself out?”

“Why can’t you just say that I locked you in here?”

“What, you really think they’ll believe that?”

You stood up, shaking your head. He was right, but that didn’t make you feel any better about knocking Yixing’s lights out. “Thank you, Xing. I can never repay you.”

Yixing waved his hand. “You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. If anything, this is me repaying my own debt.”

You sighed shakily, and Yixing stood up. “Please don’t hit me too hard,” He said. You smiled, and shook your head, before throwing up your fists. Before you could do anything, he held up his hands. “W-wait, wait.”

“What?”

“Kick Baekhyun’s ass,” He ordered, “His head’s been getting too big for his shoulders, anyway.”

You smiled sadly, before nodding. “I’ll try,” You answered, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” 

Yixing shut his eyes, grimacing. “Do it.”

With one final deep breath, you swung at his temple, and Yixing fell to the floor. You checked to make sure he was knocked out cold, tapping his face slightly, and setting off when he didn’t come to. 

You changed into more suitable clothes to wear in combat, and slung on your snow boots and a dark blue cloak.

Before you left, you walked into the dining room, and looked towards the floor, before something glinting in the low sunlight caught your eye. Heart splintering, you picked up the necklace, and tucked it into your pocket.

This would have been so much easier if you’d been let out before the sun came up. You placed the hood of your cloak up, hiding your face and keeping your head down, hoping to not draw too much attention as you walked towards the stables. Thankfully, the path leading there was still relatively empty given that it was before ten. 

When you got to the stables, you found your bow and arrow hung on the wall, right next to Ivan’s stall. For a moment, you considered taking him with you, but decided against it. It would be too hard to sneak a reindeer out in broad daylight. You would simply have to run as fast as you could and hope that luck was on your side.

So you hid the weapons under your cloak, and made your way to the east gate, where, just as Yixing had said, the parapet atop it was empty. And once you had broken the lock, and were outside, you were gone. 

Immediately, you realized that the energy in the Spearwood was different. The air was crisper, seemingly even colder. If the forest had been quiet the first time you stepped into it, you could practically hear the sound of your blood rushing throughout your body. A few minutes into your walk, it began to snow, and you found yourself shivering already.

Once you were out of sight of the parapets, you removed your cloak briefly, placing the quiver and bow over it rather than under it for better access.

Being alone in the snow, with everything you knew now, filled you with an odd sense of nostalgia. If a month ago, someone had told you you would willingly march into the Spearwood to try and end the war, you definitely wouldn’t have expected this to be your course of actions, and you certainly would have expected to have different motives. 

You did your best to retrace your old steps, but the past 24 hours, the fact that it had been three weeks since you came this way, and the difference in lighting made it significantly harder. You walked for about forty minutes, cautious enough to listen for the footsteps of anyone who might have followed you from Ironbend.

And while eventually you did hear footsteps, they definitely weren’t from anyone you were expecting. The fast sound of paws thumping against the snow, racing at you from behind barely gave you time to turn and spot the giant mass of white fur bounding towards you. With a soft, “oomph!” you were tackled to the ground, tumbling a few times before finally landing on your back in the snow. You opened your eyes to meet a familiar gaze. 

We really have to stop meeting like this, y’know, Sehun declared as he stepped back, it’s weird.

“You’re the one that tackled me,” You argued, sitting up and brushing off the snow that was on your cloak. “What are you doing so far out of the inner circle?”

Sehun shook himself off, before staring at you seriously. Emergency patrol. Mama sensed danger. 

 “She was right,” You said with a nod, “Is she safe?”

Why would she be keeping herself safe? He sounded kind of exasperated. 

“Because she’s the target, Sehun. The three troops they brought out are looking for her.”

All of the playfulness in Sehun’s demeanor seemed to evaporate. Shit. Junmyeon knows where she is. Get on. I’m taking you to him.

You got on his back, and he huffed slightly at the new sensation of having to carry you. Sorry if it gets bumpy. I’m not really used to having people ride on my back... That’s usually Junmyeon’s job.

“Shut up, you overgrown spoiled baby,” You answered warmly, “It’s okay. As long as we get there in one piece.”

Did you get there in one piece? Kind of. You had to cling onto him and lower yourself to basically lie on his back. Otherwise you bounced too much and you risked falling off of him. The wind ripped your hood off, whipping your hair in the process and drying your eyes. 

He slowed down once he approached a clearing, where you could easily see the brown wolf standing in the white snow. He turned once he heard Sehun’s paws. When he noticed you, he seemed rather taken aback. 

Y/N? What are you doing here? Why did you even leave? He asked when you got off of Sehun.

“I needed to warn you. All of you. Selyne is in danger.”

She’s the warden of the forest, he pointed out, I think it’s an occupational hazard.

You sighed, annoyed at how willing the both of them had been to brush off your warnings so easily. “This is different. More than a hundred men are in the forest right now—all of them armed with guns, I might add—trying to find her, because they know that if she dies, Chanyeol loses his link to the forest and any hope for negotiation and bridging the spirit world and the human world is gone. You need to warn her, now.”

Junmyeon, evidently stunned speechless, looked between you and Sehun for a few seconds, before his gaze settled on you finally. We knew about the troops. We didn’t know about their plan. How did you find out? 

You pursed your lips. “My… I used to be close to their leader. He’s… the swordsman.”

Shit, Sehun swore. 

Fuck, Junmyeon agreed.

“Y/N?” 

Your eyes widened at the distant sound of the deep voice, turning your head to see Chanyeol, trudging through the snow. His eyes were wide, and when he recognized your face, he began walking faster. 

Of their own accord, your feet started moving in his direction. You ignored the voices of Sehun and Junmyeon trying to catch your attention. He sped up again, now making his best attempt to run to you, even though the snow passed his ankles. Your heart pounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears, you sped up as well. As the distance lessened, you took in the familiar features. The pelt that kept him warm, the mask held back atop his dark hair, his cheeks streaked with blood he’d painted on, the round earrings dangling from his prominent ears.

Finally, he was within arms reach, and he reached out his arms the same way you did. His gaze was desperate, almost unbelieving that it was really you. The two of you collided, lips smashing against each other as his hands gripped you in several different places, like he was trying to make sure you were tangible. First at your waist, then your back, until finally, they gripped your face tenderly, calloused hands holding your face. Your hands wrapped around his neck, standing up straight to reach his lips. 

The state of catharsis his desperate kisses gave you confirmed it. You knew in your heart who you wanted. 

 When Chanyeol pulled away, you wiped away the snowflakes that had fallen on his cheeks and nose. “Y/N,” He murmured, “You came back.”

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

”I had to,” You said softly, nuzzling your nose against his cheek, “I needed to warn you about what’s coming.”

His face fell slightly when he heard your reasoning, but he didn’t step away. “Y/N, I… I shouldn’t have let you leave. A-and I shouldn’t have said those things I said. I was… scared. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, breaking away. “Right now, we can’t focus on that. I need you all to listen to me. I know what the troops are trying to do.” 

He nodded, eyes turning serious. “Come on,” He said, turning you to face the clearing. The two of you paused when you noticed the two other wolves sitting in the clearing, watching you bemusedly. 

I told you something happened, Jongin said to Kyungsoo, Now you owe me your next part of the hunt. 

Chanyeol scowled, and had this not been such a serious moment, you would have laughed. The two of you walked back over to the quartet, where you greeted them all properly. Not wasting any time, you went over the basics. How you’d been found by Baekhyun and taken back to Ironbend, what you told the Council in an attempt to get them to consider a truce, how you managed to escape. Baekhyun and his plan. The danger that Selyne was in, and by extension, the danger that Chanyeol was in. 

“She needs to hide, now,” You told them once you finished, “Chanyeol, you might need to hide, too.”

“I’m not going to hide,” He fired back. “This is my home. They’re threatening my mother. I’m not about to stand back and let them do it.” 

You stared at him, gripping his forearm. “Chanyeol, Baekhyun knows. He told me he would kill you.”

“And I’m telling you I’ll kill him.” Chanyeol’s eyes were wide, serious. “Y/N, I’m more expendable than Selyne is. If I die, it’s a major setback. If Selyne dies…”

It’s the beginning of the end for us, Kyungsoo completed, The magic of the forest will become unbalanced if it loses one of its Pillars. 

And if the magic of the forest becomes unbalanced, we lose our strongest wall of defense, Junmyeon agreed. It’s our job as our mother’s sons to lead in her place in moments when she can’t. One of those moments is now. Chanyeol has to fight.

You clenched your jaw. “Fine,” You bit out, “But someone needs to go warn Selyne, right now.” 

Chanyeol and I can go. Jongin, Kyungsoo, you both need to gather the other wolf packs. Call the bears as well, any other animals that can defend the forest. Foxes, coyotes, birds of prey, lynxes. Call the raccoons if you have to. This is life or death. Junmyeon straightened his posture. Sehun, you show Y/N how far the troops have gone. Stay hidden. Let’s rendezvous in an hour and wait for Kyungsoo and Jongin with the reinforcements.

  We’ll go as fast as we can, Jongin said, before turning to Kyungsoo. Let’s go. 

Sehun lifted his head to gaze at you. You heard him. Get on.

You nodded, turning to Chanyeol, who was about to get onto Junmyeon. “Wait.”

Chanyeol’s eyes softened as you approached him, reaching into your pocket. You tucked the necklace into the palm of his hand, closing his fist around it. “Be careful,” You begged him, “I didn’t betray an entire village just for you to get yourself killed.”

He gave a soft smile, his other hand grasping yours. “I’ll come back to you,” He promised. You peered into his eyes, wanting to say so many things.

Gross, Sehun interrupted, and Chanyeol’s smile disappeared immediately. “Don’t be a dick.”

He’s Sehun, Junmyeon mumbled, giving something akin to an eyeroll, Kind of impossible for him not to be. Now come on, we need to go now.

Chanyeol offered you one small, final smile, before he and Junmyeon sped off. 

You turned to Sehun, getting on his back. “Is it that hard for you to not be an asshole?” You asked, tone warm and teasing.

You all love me anyway, he replied. His cheekiness was not missed. The two of you took off immediately afterwards. You remembered to lower yourself and stay close to his back. Sehun explained that the magic of the forest was affecting the troops, leading them on the wrong path.

They’ve been going in circles for about two hours now, Sehun snickered, But we can’t just let them trample through the forest without teaching them a lesson. 

“Be careful once we get closer to their location,” You said into his ear, “They’ll probably have scouts patrolling within a few hundred meters of their formation on all sides.”

I’ll keep that in mind. 

The pair of you slowed to a walk, and you got off of him, pulling out your bow and nocking an arrow out of caution. Silence reigned over the forest, making the sounds of your boots crunching in the snow cringeworthy and deafening. The two of you were nearing the top of a hill, approaching its steep summit. As you approached it, the sound of stomping and snow crunching became louder and louder. You swallowed the lump in your throat, slowing significantly.

You stopped at the sound of a familiar shout. The boom of the voice actually made Sehun’s ears lower, the wolf flinching at the noise.

“Regroup!” Jongdae yelled, “We’ll stop for ten minutes.” 

You stared at Sehun, who in turn gazed at you before cocking his head at a large boulder that should give you both some cover. Slowly, as quietly as possible, you both approached the snow cap rock, before Sehun peeked over the edge of the rock. 

They’re at the base of the hill. If you’re gonna come over here, be careful. 

You leaned over the side of the rock, releasing the tension in the string of your bow. 

120 sounded like a lot of men, you realized, but the visual was somewhat underwhelming. They easily fit in the large clearing at the base of the hill. Seeing them all huddled together in the cold brought you an odd sense of comfort. 

Seeing Byun Baekhyun and his two lackeys had the opposite effect.

Baekhyun, Minseok and Jongdae were excellent military strategists. They were better than you, that was for sure, and you came from a long line of military leaders. They worked even better when the three of them worked together. In previous campaigns in other places, they’d done great damage with even smaller troops. You knew damn well that they would turn this relatively small group into a well oiled killing machine, and use each man to the best of their ability.

Still, you knew they had some weaknesses in their formations. Every formation did. They were very susceptible to being attacked from the back. It would catch them off guard very easily. 

What are you thinking? Sehun asked.

“They can be very vulnerable from the back,” You whispered, “This is their standard formation. I doubt they’ll change it now that they’re this deep—takes too much time, lowers their guard. See the back line? Those are the reserves. They’re generally the strongest men, but they’re more spread out. That’s where Baekhyun, Jongdae and Minseok are, also—their leaders. The ones meant to be fodder are generally put on the front line.”

That’s… interesting. But an attack from the back would mean taking out a small group of strong opponents, and then fighting a larger group. That’s… not ideal. We would tire ourselves out.

“There are bound to be more than 120 animals in the forest willing to defend it,” You pointed out. “They’re used to combat at a distance, especially with the shoulder guns. If we can approach them and overwhelm them, we might just be able to get them to retreat.” 

You watched as Baekhyun, Jongdae and Minseok had a quiet discussion between the three of them, Jongdae’s hands gesturing wildly. 

“Jackasses,” You grumbled, before stepping back safely behind the boulder. “Have we seen enough?” 

I think so. It looks like they’re going to keep heading west. Which is good. Mama’s den is east. Let’s get back to the rendezvous point. 

You nodded, exhaling softly. You stole one last glance at Baekhyun before you and Sehun trudged down the hill, putting some distance between the troops and you both before you mounted the wolf and broke out into a run. You kept your eyes open as he ran, hoping the winds would dry the tears in your eyes.

You were the first ones back in the clearing. 

“You’re sure we’re in the right place, right?” You asked, just to be sure. Sehun sat, shaking some snowflakes off of his snout. This is where the pack scent is strongest, and I can still see the tracks from where we all split up, so yes. And look, that’s where you and Chanyeol… swapped spit.

“And you say Chanyeol and I are the gross ones.”

Sehun laughed. Well, that’s what it looked like! Human displays of affection are so odd. At first I thought you were trying to eat each other.

You shook your head. “No. Not at all,” You answered with a laugh, “It’s actually—”

Sehun’s head turned, ears perking up. Your speech died in your mouth, watching as a few seconds later, Chanyeol and Junmyeon came into view. They made their way into the clearing, and stopped right in front of you. Chanyeol slid off of Junmyeon’s back, stretching his legs when he did.

It took her some convincing, but Mother is safe. She’s in one of her secret dens, just in case. 

You sighed in relief. “Good.”

We also found Beval and Emyr on our way there. We made sure to warn them.

Well, what did they say? Sehun asked.

Beval is rounding up the birds of prey as we speak. He’s also sending them some heavy snowfall and winds—he called it a welcome gift.

You smiled as the remark before Junmyeon continued. Emyr is rounding up the deer, and he’s sent out a message to any smaller animals to stay in their dens. The deer will be joining us, but they’ll stay at a distance so they can treat the injured.  

“Selyne sends her blessing,” Chanyeol added, looking at you.  “She also wanted me to return this to you.”

Chanyeol stretched out his hand, holding out a familiar black sheath with a leather band. The silver guards and the pommel of the sword seemed to glow in the daylight.

 “So that’s where that went,” You mumbled, more to yourself. You looked up at Chanyeol after you had grabbed the sword. “Thank you.”

He waved his hand. “This is important.”

So, what now? Sehun asked, Wait for the reinforcements?

I suppose so, Junmyeon answered, before eyeing you and Chanyeol. He turned to face Sehun. Mother actually wanted me to talk to you about something. Come on, let’s go. 

What on earth could she want you to nag me for at a time like this? I—

Junmyeon bared his teeth, growling in a move that surprised the three of you Sehun’s words died abruptly. Sehun, he hissed, eyes darting between the youngest wolf, and you and Chanyeol, Come on. 

...Oh. Oh! Okay. Yeah. It’s probably that… thing I was talking about with her yesterday. Okay, yeah, let’s go.

The two wolves stalked off, Junmyeon nagging the entire time.

You looked up at Chanyeol, before tying the leather band securely around your waist. “Alright, we have some time to kill. Do… do you wanna talk about that night?”

Chanyeol slumped forward, looking downwards. When he looked back up, he nodded. You leaned against a tree, crossing your arms.

“I was an ass,” Chanyeol admitted. “I was unfair to you. But… I don’t know, Y/N. I’m just… I was terrified. I’ve never felt so vulnerable with someone else, before.”

“Chanyeol…”

“I love you. I don’t—I don’t know when or how it happened. And I was so angry when I didn’t go after you. And then when I finally did, it was too late. We didn’t find you. I just… lost it kind of.”

He showed you his right hand, where the knuckles were bruised and cut.

“What did you even do, punch a tree?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.  

He pursed his lips, ears turning red. “Well…”

You bit back a laugh, and tried hard to hold back the smile trying to break onto your face. 

“Oh, gods.”

“Shut up,” He huffed, trying to hold back his own smile now.

“You’re… you’re really something,” You said. Chanyeol shrugged and his face fell again.

“I fucked up. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, I shouldn’t have pushed you away,” You countered, “I was scared, too. Terrified. But after everything that’s happened since then, I know what I want. I want to stay here, with you, and I want to protect this place.”

“Y-you’re gonna stay?”

You looked down, shutting your eyes. You thought over the life you’d had in Ironbend, all of the friends and family you’d ever known. All of them united under one cause, and here you were, about to throw it all away. Guilt swam in your chest at the idea of having to consider them enemies.

“I want to be with you,” You hummed, grabbing his hand, “And if they knew about us, they would kill me.”

His hand squeezed yours. “I’m not going to let them.”

You smiled sadly. “I’m not going to let them hurt you, either.”

He opened his mouth to say something, when the sound of rustling in the distance caused him to turn his head. Instantly, the two of you reached for your weapons.

It’s them, Sehun called, running back into the clearing. It’s time.

You looked at Chanyeol, who squeezed your hand again. “Let’s do this.”

This would have been a lot faster had it been summer. So many animals were hibernating, and while there were still more animals than there were humans, you still wondered whether or not it would be enough. These animals didn’t have the types of weapons that the humans did, save for your sword, bow and arrow, and Chanyeol’s dagger. 

A total of 361 animals showed up. Chanyeol’s four brothers, and a total of 97 wolves from different packs scattered throughout the Spearwood, for a total of 101 wolves. It made sense to you that the majority of animals would be wolves, given that Selyne was the one that was threatened the most. Other troops included 51 birds of prey, 46 foxes, 29 coyotes, 32 bears, 55 deer, 19 raccoons, 11 lynxes and surprisingly enough, 17 squirrels. 

You weren’t sure whether to be surprised by the fact that squirrels had decided to show up or that the vast majority of them—along with the raccoons—came armed with relatively large jagged rocks to throw at the small army. 

At first, the animals were skeptical of your plan. You didn’t blame them. A human, a foreigner, trying to lead them into battle? It didn’t sound safe.

The plan was simple enough. Wait until the troops reached one of the streams, so that it would be difficult for them to cross. Start an aerial attack with the birds of prey, the squirrels and the raccoons, then the front line of animals would attack the back line. The second, third and fourth lines would attack all around, and eventually the lines would open up towards the north, in an effort to push them back. The deer would be waiting past the stream, out of sight, waiting to work on the injured with their magic. You made sure to explain to them how the guns worked, and what needed to be done to heal the wounds. 

The troops would be given a wide berth on all sides. The signals to attack would be given via howls, or in the case of the birds of prey, a screech.

Each wolf would be leading from a different direction. Junmyeon would be leading the front line with Chanyeol. Jongin would lead the second line, Kyungsoo the third, and Sehun the fourth lines. 

You would be on the front line as well. As the groups separated, the forest seemed to fill with fog. You followed Junmyeon and Chanyeol, who were following the scent of the human troops as they led your group of about 50 or so animals. The only sound you could hear was the sound of snow crunching beneath you. You could barely see anything as the fog hanging overhead seemed to seep into the forest the closer and closer you got. You tried desperately not to think of your dream. 

The wind blew harder as well, whipping your hair every which way, drying your eyes. Snow fell even heavier. It became slightly harder to trudge through it.

As your group came to its waiting point, one of the birds—a hawk, you saw—flew overhead before flying back up into the fog overhead. That was the signal to stop and wait.

Junmyeon stopped, turning back to the group. Chanyeol held his hand up, signalling for everyone to stop and wait. 

You couldn’t see the troops yet, but you knew that they weren’t too far away. The dense treeline simply made it difficult to see anything that wasn’t a hundred meters away. All you could do now was wait. Your eyes met Chanyeol’s for a second, and he flashed you a soft smile. You looked him once over, your heart doing a backflip when it saw the opal necklace resting against his shirt.

“Be safe,” He mouthed at you, and you nodded as he pulled down his mask. 

“You, too.”

The silence of the forest was shattered by a gunshot. You both turned to face the direction the sound was coming from, which was straight ahead. You forced yourself to take deep breaths, flexing your fingers. Your fingertips were numb from the cold. A second gunshot echoed through the forest, your stomach began to sink.

Gripping your bow, you tried to recall how many bows you had in your quiver. 35, 36? No more than 37, that was for sure.

Y/N, You heard Junmyeon say, flinching when a third gunshot came. You nodded once in his direction. Get on. Chanyeol will get off once we’re close enough. Your bow won’t work up close. 

“Okay,” you mumbled, approaching them slowly. “We’re not too heavy?”

It’ll be fine, the wolf huffed, Just don’t take too much time with those arrows.

“Got it,” You answered, getting on, right behind Chanyeol. You made a mental note to suggest a saddle for them—if they knew what a saddle was, anyway. 

“Hold on to me,” Chanyeol murmured, “Don’t pull out your bow until I say so.”

You nodded. “Be careful. Both of you.” 

A fourth gunshot sounded, and you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“I’m gonna kiss you so hard when this is over,” Chanyeol whispered.

Gods, Sehun’s right, Junmyeon grumbled, You two are disgus—

A shrieking noise rang across the forest, and all of the hairs stood up on your body as you registered as the sound of a hawk’s screeching.

Now! Junmyeon yelled, beginning to charge forward, all of the other animals running behind you.

“Wait for my signal,” Chanyeol told you, “Stay alert.”

You didn’t reply, too focused on thinking about what was about to happen. As Junmyeon and the other animals weaved through the trees, you began to see something in the distance, barely outlined in the fog. Two more gunshots sounded, sparks glowing for a split second in the mist, perfectly giving away their location. 

They were closer now. You could hear murmuring, shouting. The sound of running water, albeit a bit softer than the voices. Any second now, they would hear you.

“Now!” Chanyeol told you, as a large, dark mass came into view, slightly blurred by the fog. You pulled away from Chanyeol, pulling off your bow and nocking an arrow quickly.

“What is that noise!?” You heard a voice yell. You couldn’t recognize who it was.

“STAND FIRM!” A loud voice ordered. Jongdae. 

A single figure burst into view, and you knew it had to be a scout. The young man turned, and his eyes widened when he spotted you, grimacing as you aimed your arrow at him. 

His mouth opened wide, and he began to screech, “From the nor—!”

Your arrow pierced his chest, and you forced yourself to look away as he fell to the ground.

“The north!” You heard Baekhyun say, “FACE NORTH! NOW!”

You pulled out another arrow and nocked it as well, just as the troops appeared in your line of vision. You spotted Baekhyun almost immediately, but couldn’t bring yourself to aim directly at him. Instead, as the animals charged, you let it fly into someone right behind him, hitting the man straight in the eye. The arrow whizzed past Baekhyun’s head. His eyes widened momentarily when he saw you on top of the wolf, sitting behind Chanyeol’s familiar face, before it twisted into a hateful sneer. 

“Attack!” He cried, “Fire, NOW!”

The first gunshots were fired, thick rocks still raining down on the men, hawks and eagles swooping down to claw at their faces. 

As Junmyeon turned, he slowed down enough for Chanyeol to jump off. The man pulled out his dagger, charging straight for a soldier of similar stature. 

Your turn, Y/N, Junmyeon said, You run out of arrows and I’ll call in the second line. 

“On it!” You answered, aiming another arrow. 

The two of you made an unlikely duo, working surprisingly well. Junmyeon knew to run slightly away from the fighting, because up close your arrows wouldn’t be much help. Running parallel to the front line, you fired arrow after arrow into the crowd. You even managed to get him to dodge a few bullets. One grazed his side, causing him to yelp, and you countered by sending your arrow into the neck of the man who shot at him. 

Truthfully, you tried not to aim at the people you knew. It was too difficult, seeing their shock and the look of betrayal cross their faces for a split second before you fired your arrow. But that was difficult, because everyone knew you, the same way they knew their father. 

You couldn’t imagine what they must have been thinking, to see someone who they thought would become their leader in the future fighting alongside their supposed enemies. 

All around you, chaos reigned. The rock flinging had slowed down, but birds were still diving down to attack men at random. The men at the other side of the troops were trying to spread out, to extend the front line, but it didn’t seem to be working very well. In the distance you watched two men try to fend off a grizzly bear. You had to turn your attention elsewhere, but from the looks of it, they weren’t winning.

Soon enough, you were down to your last arrow. Which, in a way, was good, because you could tell Junmyeon was beginning to slow down. The sooner he had less weight to carry, the better.

Do you see Chanyeol? Junmyeon asked, and your eyes scanned the front line, stopping when they landed on Chanyeol fighting hand to hand with a soldier. He was on the other side of the battlefield. “I see him,” You answered, “Junmyeon, let me off now and call in the second line!”

What about you? He asked as you slid off his back, firing your final arrow into a man aiming at a bar, cringing when you recognized him as the baker’s son. “I’ll be fine,” You insisted, slinging your bow across your chest, before pulling out your sword, “Just call them, now!”

Taking off before he could answer, your legs set off. As you ran, you assessed the damage. Some animals lay injured or dying, others running off as they got injured, probably to circle around to the deer.

Your breath puffed out as you made your way towards Chanyeol. You heard people call your name, some even calling out for help, but you refused to spare them any glances. You wondered if they had seen you charging in… they probably hadn’t.

When you were about fifty meters from Chanyeol, someone stepped in front of you. Looking up to meet their eyes, you saw Minseok, holding his spear up and eyeing you defensively. 

“Get out of here and they might just let you live,” He grunted. You held your sword out, eyeing the movements of his right arm. 

“As if you would let the gods live,” You quipped, “In the grand scheme of things, I’m no one.”

“Y/N, I don’t want to have to do this.” His voice was shaky, glancing to the side to avoid your eyes. “We’ve been friends for years, I would never forgive myself if I had to—”

Thwap! You turned the blade so that when you hit him with it, the flat end hit the side of his head. The edge still drew some blood, though, and Minseok stumbled back, giving you just enough time to lift your leg, kicking him square in the chest. He stumbled back even further before falling to the ground, breathless. You hopped closer, hoping to knock him unconscious without hurting him too much.

Looking at him, your heart ached. As you lumbered over him, grabbing the collar of his shirt, you frowned. “I’m sorry,” You murmured, before knocking his head into the ground once, twice, three times, until his eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp.

You had no time to check whether or not he was still breathing, instead standing straight up and taking a deep breath before starting to run again. As you did, you heard Junmyeon’s howl echo across the forest. Weaving through the trees, you knew more help would be here soon. 

And it did, the second line appearing towards the south within a matter of seconds, sandwiching the troops between two groups of animals. As you got closer to Chanyeol, you felt something pull you back by the cloak, letting out a yelp as you fell to the ground. You fell on your butt, pain traveling up your back. Looking back to see what had snagged your cloak, you watched as Baekhyun ran past you in an attempt to get to Chanyeol, who had his back turned as he fought off another man. Baekhyun didn’t so much as spare you a glance.

You stumbled to your feet, eyes widening as you watched Baekhyun pull out his sword. Your feet somehow seemed to fly across the snow, your body going into overdrive. You’d seen this strategy before. Someone would distract the target, only for Baekhyun to come in and strike them down from behind.

You knew what would happen if you didn’t stop it. Slowing down for only a moment, you picked up a large rock that had to have hit some poor man in the head. Not even hesitating, you chucked the bloody rock at Baekhyun’s feet, causing him to stumble. 

That gave you the advantage, making a beeline in front of him, practically back to back to Chanyeol. Your smaller sword met Baekhyun’s with a loud clang, the look on his face turning incredulous when he saw that it was you. 

Baekhyun had always been a better swordsman. Every time you had asked him to help you train, it always ended with him pinning you down. But right now, you couldn’t afford to lose. You simply couldn’t.

“You just had to come and ruin everything,” He grunted, countering with a parry. You blocked it, your swords sliding against each other. You pushed him back, breathing heavily. 

“I’m not gonna let you destroy this place,” You answered. He let out a scoff.

“What are you gonna do, huh? You never miss a shot,” Baekhyun growled, “And yet you missed me. What is it, honey, still got a soft spot for me?” 

Your swords met again, your arms buckling with the strain. You couldn’t meet his eyes, you realized as your eyes filled with tears.

“We have you outnumbered. Call off the attack now,” You pleaded, sounding too desperate for your own good, “It’s not too late, Baek—”

“Oh, darling, I’m not stopping, not until I destroy all of it. Not if I have to burn—” His sword slashed forward, barely missing you as he roared, “—The entire Spearwood to the ground, not if I have to burn down all of Ironbend to get rid of every piece of fucking vermin in this place.”

You stepped forward, tears burning your dry eyes, and that was your mistake. In your attempt to parry, he sidestepped you, knocking you to the ground with a harsh shove. Your blade fell out of your hand, landing in the snow.

As you fell to the ground, you met Baekhyun’s gaze for the first time since your swords clashed. You were surprised to find tears streaking down his face, as well. His eyes looked like that of a wild animal, bewildered and desperate as he lifted his sword, ready to come down at you.

“And if I have to kill you too, my love?” He let out a single humorless laugh, a sad, cold smile gracing his beautifully twisted features, “So be it.” 

Your eyes squeezed shut as his sword began to fall, curling into yourself as you did. You didn’t want your last sight of the man you once loved to be this distorted image of him, drunk on the pursuit of power. All you wanted was the end.

Only, the end never came. Not in the way you expected it to, at least. Because a split second later, you heard Baekhyun gasp, and a deep, guttural groan came from above you. 

Your eyes snapped open, face contorting into an expression of horror as you saw the tip of Baekhyun’s sword peeking out of Chanyeol’s back, dripping blood. You watched as Chanyeol lurched forward, Baekhyun pulling off the mask, glaring up at his long lost brother with what you could only describe as bitter rage.

“You look just like the old man,” He muttered spitefully, “Go figure.”

Chanyeol didn’t answer, groaning out before coughing. Blood spilled from his lips. 

Your heart began to pound, and all of the noise around you seemed to fade into nothingness. All you could focus on was the blood staining Chanyeol’s tattered shirt a dark red, dripping onto your pants and his white pelt. The only noise you could hear was your own labored breathing and your blood roaring in your ears, not feeling the trembling in your necrotic arm.

You barely even registered the ear shattering wail that echoed across the battlefield, inky black tearing at your skin as they branched out everywhere. Your eyes rolled up back into your head, your body convulsing. 

You didn’t see the way they wrapped around every being within a thirty meter radius, squeezing with a vengeance. You didn’t see the way the wolves, who were on the other side of the battlefield stopped in awe to watch as you attempted to destroy everything in your path. You didn’t see Baekhyun get ripped away from Chanyeol, getting lifted some ten feet into the air as his eyes widened in terror, because he had only ever seen you hold back one of these fits. You didn’t see the few men who weren’t in your grip freeze, only able to watch as men and animals alike struggled to free themselves from you. 

You didn’t see. But Chanyeol did. He watched as all of this happened in less than ten seconds, before one tendril pulled out the sword, causing him to tumble to the ground right next to you. He fell to his hands and knees, wheezing and spitting out more blood that fell from his mouth.

When he managed to register what was going on, he crawled over to you, one hand pressing down on a rapidly bleeding stab wound he couldn’t even feel due to the adrenaline rushing through his body. He watched as your hand bent back and forth, contorting impossibly. Cringing at the sound of the cracking bones and your incessant screaming, he leaned over you and reached out his free hand. 

If this didn’t stop, you would kill everyone and everything in your grip and get yourself killed in the process. He grabbed your free hand with all the strength he could muster, trying to ignore the stiffness in your joints. His fingers tried to get your own fingers to grip the opal on your necklace, but nothing happened. 

“Please,” He wheezed, “Please, Y/N.”

With your cries ringing in his ears, he ripped his hand from the stab wound and touched your necklace, staining your neck red as he did, before bringing your hand to his neck, from where a second opal was dangling. His necklace, the one you had returned to him only an hour or so prior.

He coughed, cringing again as blood splattered across your face. “I’ve got you,” He croaked, “That—that night, when you asked me to make it stop, Y/N, I’m—I’m here, I’m trying. Please.”

Your screaming began to quiet, and his voice dropped to a panicked whisper. “Pl—please, Y/N. Please.”

He knew it must have taken less than a few seconds, but it truly did seem like an eternity to him. The tendrils recoiled back into your arm, letting go of all of the creatures you’d had in your grip. Baekhyun fell into the snow a few feet away from you, the wind knocked out of him. Your screaming stopped, and your bones snapped into place, but your sobs didn’t stop, not as your body wracked with pain as the aftershocks kicked in. 

The shock wore off on the remaining men within a minute or so, most of them beginning to flee north, dropping their weapons as they went. Jongdae came forward, already having guided an unconscious Minseok onto his reindeer. “Baekhyun, we have to go now.”

Baekhyun looked up, breathing unevenly. “No, not before I kill h—”

“There’s no time!” Jongdae barked hurriedly. “He’s gonna die anyway, look at what you did to him. And the more you stay, especially after everyone heard what you said about burning Ironbend to the ground, the worse it’s gonna be for you. So get on the damn reindeer, now.” 

Baekhyun faltered, sneering before hurrying onto the reindeer. Your eyes cracked open as Jongdae got on the third reindeer, and they rode off north, presumably to lick their wounds and try and explain everything to the council.

You looked up, just as Chanyeol toppled over on top of you. You ignored the screaming in your arms and the tension in your jaw as you rolled the pair of you over, eyes brimming with tears again when the smell of blood hit your nose. 

He looked so pale, beneath you. Your hands pulled his head gently onto your lap, before one of them began cradling his head. The other tried desperately to press down on the wound, but the stiffness in your arms didn’t help much.

“You can’t die like this,” You whispered hoarsely, “I just came back.”

He managed to quip a smile. “You’ll be alright,” He crooned, one hand limply. “It’s—it’s your turn now, to ride with my br—my brothers.”

“No,” You begged.

Chanyeol! You both turned your heads as the four brothers in question ran up to the both of you.

“Hey,” Chanyeol murmured, as if he wasn’t bleeding out beneath you, “That wasn’t... very fun. I… I don’t wanna do that again.”

You idiot, Junmyeon said, voice trembling, the usual chastising tone he had now empty. What’s mother gonna say when she finds out you went and got yourself killed?

You can’t die, you ass, Sehun added. You can’t.

He’s not going to. 

Your head snapped up, just in time to watch two figures leap into view, a third lumbering behind them, a fourth flying overhead. Quickly, just as everyone else registered that it was the gods, your head bowed in respect.

Beval landed on a branch overhead, the fog clearing. Selyne and Emyr stopped before you, as Mirren began to round up the remaining animals, directing them across the stream.

Chanyeol, Selyne murmured, tone anxious. You never would have expected that from her. What have you done?

“What I had to do to keep you all safe,” He answered, meeting the she-wolf’s gaze. His eyes moved to look at Emyr. 

“My king. I’m sorry for all the loss the forest has felt today.”

Emyr shook his head.  It will mourn, but it will forever be grateful for the sacrifice you all made to keep it safe. We will honor you. Heroes, all of you.

You were trembling as you kept your head down, trying to memorize each corner of his face. Every mole, every blemish, every eyelash.

Even you, Y/N.

Your head snapped up, meeting the gaze of the deer god with your tearful eyes. “Th-thank you, great king,” You replied, “But we only did what was right.”

Indeed. But I do believe you deserve more than honor. You’ve sacrificed much. Daresay, I think you’ve proved yourself to me and to the forest.

You didn’t know why your heart sank. Despite this being what you set out to do, you didn’t feel victorious. “Oh,” You murmured, unsure what to say as Chanyeol shifted his head below you.

Oh? Selyne quipped, You’re being bestowed a gift by a god and that’s all you can say?

“I don’t want it,” You blurted, more tears running down your face. You couldn’t control your mouth even if you wanted to, shaking your head. All you could do was weep and stare down at Chanyeol. The light in his eyes seemed to be getting dimmer. “Give it to him, please. He’s done more for this forest than I ever could. Please heal him, my king, please.”

Fascinating. You would allow yourself to die if it meant that Chanyeol would live?

“Y/N, don’t do this,” Chanyeol whispered. You shook your head at him, before nodding at Emyr. 

“Yes, absolutely, yes. Without a doubt. Please don’t let him die.”

What would happen to us if I, as the king of this forest, simply allowed all of my subjects to live in their time of dying? Maybe this is for the best, child. This is his fate.

“No, I can’t let that happen!”

Why not?

“Because I love him. Please, please don’t let him die.”

Emyr stared at you for a long time. Until finally, he gave you the closest thing a deer could give to a smile. Very well, he agreed. You’ve learned, girl. You’ve let go of your pride and you have sacrificed everything you previously had for our home. I will heal him… and I will heal you, as well. You’ve earned it. Both of you.

You sighed in relief, slumping over Chanyeol. The deer god approached you both, before pressing something akin to a kiss on your forehead, and then doing the same thing to Chanyeol’s hand. 

 For a moment, nothing happened. But then, your body seemed to sing as it jumped into the air of its own accord, Chanyeol right next to you. You watched as the wound began to close, before you felt the sensation of a weight being lifted off of your shoulders. Your eyes moved to your arm, watching as it returned to its natural color, the scars of the bite Sehun had given you fading. 

You landed on your feet, managing to catch Chanyeol before he fell to the ground. He groaned, slinging his arm around your shoulder. 

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” He admitted, “But I’ll live.” 

He faced Emyr. “Thank you, my king. I can never fully repay you for what you’ve done.”

So long as you continue to protect us as you have all your life, consider your debt repaid. 

You bowed your own head in respect. “Thank you. I promise to protect the forest until the day I die.” 

I never would have expected it to end this way, Selyne said. I never thought I would thank you for saving my son and protecting me.

You looked at Chanyeol, who smiled weakly at you.

Um, I hate to ruin the mood, Kyungsoo mumbled, But they didn’t actually surrender. They retreated. They’ll be back. What’ll we do then?

Your smile faded, heaving a deep sigh. Baekhyun was still out there, currently on his way back to Ironbend—but he wouldn’t get off easily for essentially leading 120 men on what as basically a suicide mission and getting more than half of them killed. And he would definitely get in trouble for what he told you about being willing to burn Ironbend to the ground. 

With luck, this would mean severe consequences for him. His reputation would likely suffer, and he might even get booted from the council. But now that you were gone, who was left to govern after your father passed away? You could only hope someone like Yixing would pass on to lead. 

Truthfully, you weren’t sure how to answer. But in your silence, Chanyeol spoke up, reaching for one of your hands and squeezing it tightly.

“We’ll be alright,” He said, “Come what may—we’ll be alright.” 

taglist: @delightpcy​ @chanyeolscoon​ @xxbluestrifexx​ @imsoba​ @chogiwhy127​ @always-wishing-for-rain @riajae​

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Platonic! Hotch x Reader: Payback

masterlist

Reader is Jack’s babysitter. Y/N was hired the second Hayley went back to work after having Jack. Since Hayleys death, Y/N has stepped up to take care of Jack full time. That includes living at the Hotchner residences. 

Spoilers for season 5 below:

Imagine hotch didn’t kill foyet, imagine it was Y/N. after hayley, they lost foyets trail and resumed their lives.

Lets pretend they didnt go back into protective custody. Bc obviously if this happened irl they would

Tw: foyet shit, stabbing with scissors. 

“Y/N!” You felt a tiny human jump on top of you. 

You immediately woke up, making sure not to jerk out of bed so you didn’t push Jack off of you. “What’s up little man?” 

“Daddy said to wake you up!” You groaned at his answer, causing him to giggle. 

“Did I oversleep?” 

Hotch answered from the doorway, “no, I got called in early.”

“Oh shoot.” You immediately got up, Jack following. “I missed breakfast?” You asked as you pulled your sweater on. 

“Breakfast didn’t even start.” He laughed. You liked seeing him at ease, he was your friend and he was always stressed. “But Strauss called and said there’s a lot of paperwork.” 

“Want me to bring you lunch?” You asked as Jack led the way to the kitchen, you and Hotch following suit. 

“If you find the time with him.” He pointed to the child skipping in front of you. “He’s extra energetic this morning. Said he had a good dream and now he’s happy.” 

“I’ll make time, we can go to the park during lunch. Gives him some exercise.” You said as he sat down at the table. 

“Aright, see you at noon, goodbye Y/N.” He squeezed your shoulder, then kissed Jack's head and said goodbye to him. 

He walked out the door, and you couldn’t help but wonder what today would bring. One time….one time when he squeezed your shoulder and said goodbye, you went into protective custody away from Jack and Hayley. Then a month later, got a phone call saying Hayley was dead. 

Not just dead, murdered. 

And Foyet was still out there. But everyone was positive he’d move on. He took Hotch’s love away from him, so everyone assumed he’d moved on to a new victim. 

Boy, you really hoped that was the case. 

-----------------------------------

Hotch sat down at his desk, ready to start work, then he noticed something. Hotch loved you like a daughter. You were truly a blessing in his life. He even had a photo of you three on his desk. 

And now that photo was gone. In it’s place, Hayley’s necklace. 

Hotch’s stomach sank, he immediately called you and your phone went to voicemail. He sent you a text, “Foyet’s close.” He knew he had to think rationally, given that you and Jack were in danger. He couldn't mess it up. 

He couldn’t lose you, too. 

He knew Foyet wouldn’t harm Jack, Foyet wanted to punish Hotch, so he’d make Hotch see his son in pain, first losing his mother, then losing his sister-like figure. He ran to the team, they were at their desks, “meeting room, five minutes.” He needed those five minutes to discuss with Garcia. 

He walked to her office and told her everything. And how he wanted her to hack into his security cameras and check on you. Which, she immediately did. He walked back up and told the team everything, then Garcia walked in. 

“Sir?” Garcia asked. 

“Yes?” 

“I managed to get the security camera footage from your house.” 

“Show it, now. On the big screen.” 

It showed you and Jack in your bedroom, watching The Golden Girls (yes you got the boy into The Golden Girls he talks like Sophia all the time) That’s when you heard the bang. 

Garcia enhanced the audio. You looked at Jack, “hey buddy, how bout you go read in our favorite reading spot, okay?” His heart sank at the fact you had to use part of the Protocall Words that you two had discussed. There was a code-locked room in the back of the house, that’s where he was going. 

When Jack was at a safe distance away from you, you beeped your code into the mini safe that was beneath your bed. 

“What is she doing?” Morgan asked. 

“She’s getting ready to protect herself and Jack.” Emily answered. 

“You armed her with a gun?”

Hotch nodded, “when everything with Hayley happened, she suggested being protected and learning how to defend herself and Jack if it came to it. I happily put her through classes so she learned every fighting skill she could.” 

“Call all units you can, dispatch them. Discreetly, I don’t want this scaring Foyet into killing her.” 

You checked to make sure the gun was loaded, then you put it into your waistband of your pants, you pulled your shirt over it to conceal it. You patted your pockets, Hotch was confused, then saw your phone light up on the table downstairs. 

The cameras switched, you maneuvered the hall, moving quietly. Hotch saw you checking windows and when you didn’t see anybody outside, he knew you well enough that you were scared but wouldn’t show it. 

The front door creaked open. 

Hotch was holding his breath, you were his best friend, despite the 15+ year age difference, you both grieved Hayley, you both loved Jack. You both would do anything to protect each other and Jack. 

He heard the team’s intake of breath. The cameras switched to Foyet’s entrance. He was wearing his mask and all black attire. Two camera views were side by side, you peering over the bannister, and Foyet maneuvering. When Foyet wasn’t looking, you tossed a shoe across the room, to a corner that Foyet couldn’t see. So it’d make a distracting bang for you to get to the Panic Room as you and Jack dubbed it. Foyet turned to go to the corner. 

“She’s smart.” Prentiss said, keeping her voice quiet, as if Foyet could hear them. Hotch thought about going with the units. But he knew, he couldn’t move away from the screen. 

You crept down the stairs, then you ran to the other hallway, where he couldn’t see you, except, he heard the rush of air and the rustle of clothes. He spun around. 

You put the code to the locked room into the panel, the door popped open, but it beeped. Foyet ran up behind you and wrapped a headphone cord around your neck. You gasped from the lack of air, and as he pulled you away from the door, you kicked the door shut to lock again. 

He dragged you through the living room, he threw you to the ground, stomach first. He ripped the gun from your waistband and threw it against the wall away from you two. He rolled you over and crawled on top of you. 

As he sat up to hit you again, straddling your waist, you sat up quickly and did the only thing you could do. 

You, quite literally, grabbed him by the balls. 

All the males in the room flinched, and Garcia said, “go girl.” 

He hissed in pain, then grounded out. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea.” You growled, rage filling your eyes. You spat in his face. He shot back, and you used that opportunity to let go of him and kick him where it really, really, hurts.

He flew back, hitting the glass table in the living room, breaking it with his impact. And, in the time it took for him to get back up and grab the gun again; you were gone. 

He groaned, “dammit.” 

Despite the lump in his throat, and the fact that his stomach was in his feet, Hotch smiled. Foyet had no idea what you were capable of. 

He scoured the area where you disappeared too. He found himself in Hotch’s office. 

Hotch watched as Foyet’s eyes saw the open closet door and crept towards it. 

Hotch started tearing up, he was holding his breath. But he was unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. 

But, what Foyet didn’t see, was that the door was left open so you could hide behind the door. 

Then, he watched as you lept from behind the door and drove a pair of scissors into the Foyets neck. 

-----------------------------------------------------------

The next few hours went by in a blur. 

After, you stabbed Foyet, you sat down against the wall, waiting. He watched as you stared at Foyet dying on the ground. You didn’t raise your eyes from his body. Not to wipe his blood off your hands, not to wipe your bleeding nose, not even to check your busted lip or pick the crusted blood from your hair. 

Instead, you watched as Foyet tried to fight, tried to get up and hurt you. But instead, you smiled. “Paybacks a bitch, huh?” 

Foyet tried to move again and you mock-pouted, “aww, you mad you can’t control this situation or torture me? Fuck you.” You hissed, then Foyet took his dying breath. 

A minute later, he watched SWAT enter his home, he watched officers peel the gun from your fingertips, he watched them guide you up. Then, you calmly walked to the panic room, looked at the Chief and said. “Kindly, back up, don’t let Jack see you. In fact, can you hand me a jacket and gloves so Jack doesn’t see this blood on me?” You requested. 

What surprised him is that they listened to you, you covered up your body and hands. You then went to the couch, as if you had all the time in the world, you grabbed a blanket. 

You pressed the code into the room, walked in, then walked out with Jack curled in the blanket, his face tucked into your shoulder. He didn’t have to hear, he knew you told him to close his eyes and not look. 

Then the outside cameras showed you getting into an FBI vehicle. That’s when he turned away from the screens. 

He raced to the doors, JJ readied first aid, Prentiss helped her, she wet cloths for the blood. The ten minutes drive felt longer, but then he saw you and Jack come through the doors. He immediately hugged you. He heard you sniff, so he held you tighter. 

You were the one who pulled away, and you put Jack into his arms. You sniffed, while your eyes were teared up, you didn’t let them fall and swallowed them. You turned to go to first aid, your body was hurting. But then you saw Struass. 

You knew of her, she interviewed you when Hayley was murdered, to see if Hotch was as put together at home as he was at work. You told her to never contact you again, you were furious when she had the audacity to ask if he was abusive. 

“Miss. L/N. I just have a few questions-” 

You cut her off, “Strauss, there are a lot of words I can use to describe you. But the fact, that you are questioning me, someone who just killed one of America’s most prolific serial killers, someone who has more trauma than your entire bloodline combined, someone who has dealt with more than you can possibly imagine, makes you a massive, heartless, cowardly, bitch.” You hissed, then you did something that Hotch would admire you forever for, you shoved her shoulder and pushed her out of the way. You nodded to JJ and Prentiss, who immediately followed you to clean you up. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Strauss paid for a hotel suite for you three to reside in. You had your room, Hotch and Jack had theirs. It was joined by a living room and kitchen. You’d be there for about two weeks. Maybe more. It all depended on whether or not you could step foot in the house again. 

You weren’t going to quit your job. You loved them. But, you knew it’d take time to heal. 

You had kept a stable mindset all through the process of that day. You got Jack tucked into bed, then you shut the bedroom door. You turned to find Hotch sitting on the couch. 

“Hey big fella.” You smiled looking at Hotch. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He said horsley. 

“It’s okay. I signed up for this the second I signed that babysitters contract Hayley made.”

Hotch huffed a laugh, “she was so proud of that contract.” You nodded and smiled, you went to go sit on the couch next to Hotch. “Don’t let this eat you up inside, Mr. Hothcner.” 

“How many times am I going to have to tell you to call me Aaron?” He smiled sadly. 

“When you stop blaming yourself for me and Jack having to run earlier today, that’s when I will stop calling you Mr. Hotchner.” 

“You know Hayley liked you cause you gave me shit. She’s probably laughing right now.” 

“Oh one hundred percent.” You smiled, it was easier for you to smile right now than show sadness. And fear. 

“What’d Struass want?” He asked, swirling his whiskey in the glass.  

“Wanted to know if I was fucking my boss.” You said. “I told her to go fuck herself since she was so interested in who I was fucking.” 

He laughed, a full throaty laugh. Then you said, “I’m sure you’re gonna hear about that on Monday.” 

“Frankly, I don't think so. She’ll be too embarrassed.” 

“Good, when she said she wanted to question Jack, I almost….” You shook your head. “I almost punched her in the face.” 

“She’ll see how tough you are. She’s probably watching the footage right now.” 

You grimaced, “did you see….”

“The full on ball grab? Yes, we all did.” 

“Gah,” you rubbed your face. “I can’t believe my boss saw me yank someone's balls.” 

He laughed again, “don’t worry, your pay just got promoted.” 

“You already pay me enough, plus allow me to live the rent free.” 

“You’re family, Y/N. Hell, the money can put you through therapy.”

You huffed a laugh, “I’m going to go to bed,” you got up. “Goodnight Aaron.” You smiled kindly. Then you walked away to your room without anything else. 

The second your door latched, you started crying.

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 10

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), drinking (comes up late in the story) just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - ish

Notes: Things get a little steamy in this one.

Word Count: 2971

Chapter 10 - The Messenger

When you suffered it all

And your spirit is breaking

You're growing desperate from the fight

Remember your love

Lorcan had been living at the Whitethorn residence for a few months now. He had managed to get his GED through online courses, having not graduated because he was being beaten within an inch of his life. Rowan was at the University of Terrasen with most of their friends. Barb, Rowan’s mother, took care of Lorcan as if he were her own.

He quickly started to care for her. She was an amazing lady. And an amazing baker. Lorcan had put on a lot of weight because of her, he was almost to the weight he was last time he was here. With the weight gain, he became a little more comfortable with his body and his self-esteem slowly started to grow.

It was still a long road to be completely healed. If he ever got there. His mental health was still very poor. Nightmares almost every night. Panic attacks. Anxiety. Even a little bit of paranoia, worried that this was all a dream that he was going to wake up from and the nightmares were real life. Rowan's mother helped him find a therapist and paid for it. Which he was overly thankful for, he promised he would pay her back when he could. It felt so strange to feel cared for.

The therapy was helping. Slowly. He did have a whole life of trauma to work through after all. There was no way Lorcan could hold a job with his anxiety and chronic fatigue, so Rowan's mother just made him do things around the house for now.

But he missed Rowan. They talked and texted often, on the phone Barb had gotten Lorcan, another thing he would pay her back for. But he just wanted to hold Rowan's hand. Thankfully, the winter holidays were coming and Rowan would be home for a couple weeks.

Rowan had been a big part of Lorcan's initial recovery before going off to university. They had gotten close even though Lorcan hardly talked, hardly wanted to be touched, but he had become accustomed to his presence. There was an unspoken connection between them, both gained a lot just by being together.

++++

Rowan loved University, but gods above, he missed Lorcan. It took a long time to convince Lorcan that he was deserving of all the good things in the world, happiness and love, but there were still too many days when he felt unworthy.

He was excited to go home for Solstice. He couldn't wait to kiss that onyx eyed man again, he hoped Lorcan wanted to be kissed. If not, that was okay, they would get to spend time together and that would be enough.

Rowan was unsure if Lorcan had ever celebrated Solstice or if he had ever received a gift of any kind. It made the man stress about what to get him. The gift needed to be good if this really was his first ever Solstice gift. But he couldn't figure out what to get Lorcan. He honestly didn’t know him that well, he just knew that they needed to be together.

"Elide! Help!" He was lying on the couch in the apartment he shared with Aelin and Elide. "I need to get a present for Lorcan!" Rowan whined.

"You know him better than anyone else, Roro!" He sighed at that because he knew that wasn’t much. She was lying on the floor, her eyes closed. They were both exhausted. The final they had today had been brutal.

"I know, but," Rowan sighed again. "I don't think he's ever gotten a gift before.” That thought made him sad, Lorcan had never had a fair life. No one ever loved him enough or really at all. “It has to be good!"

"You should make him something. Or.. Oh!" She rolled over to face Rowan, eyes bright with excitement at her idea. "Print out and frame that photo I took of you two before you left!" Elide was excited now. "That's it! Do that! He'll love it!"

Rowan smiled remembering how Lorcan clung to him on the sidewalk, not wanting him to leave. And then, when Elide showed him the edited photo on her laptop, he fell in love with it and made his desktop wallpaper. "I think that's a great idea."

---

Rowan had gotten home after Lorcan went to bed. He tried to stay awake, but life and his cocktail of medications made him so tired. And he never slept a full eight hours. The nightmares made sure of that.

Tonight was no different. In this nightmare, he was back in Morath, in the basement. Being beaten to death again. He was panting and sweaty when he awoke. Sheets wrapped around his legs from his thrashing.

Guess it's time for another 3am shower. This was his new normal, early morning showers to try and wash the nightmare away before trying to get some more sleep and usually failing.

When he was done, he put on a fresh pair of boxer briefs and a plain black hoodie. Hellas, it was nice to have new clothes and ones that fit. He went to cross the hall to his room and then remembered Rowan should be home. His stomach fluttering at the thought.

Without thinking of what he was doing, he padded his way to Rowan's door. He knocked quietly, he heard a groan. His breath quickened and his heart raced. Lorcan cracked the door.

"Rowan?" His voice barely more than a whisper.

"Lor'an?" Rowan was still half asleep.

"Can I come in?"

"Mmm, yeah. Come 'ere." He patted his bed in his sleepy haze. Lorcan sat on the bed. "You 'kay?" He held the blanket up and arms out.

"Not really." He cuddled into Rowan's chest and twined their legs together without a second thought. It just felt so natural. They hadn’t really cuddled like this before, but Lorcan just needed to feel close.

"I gotchu." His arms curled around Lorcan's form and snuggled against him, placing a lazy kiss to the top of his head. And sleep claimed them both.

++++

The sun was shining through the blinds on the window when Rowan finally woke up. He went to stretch, but found a Lorcan attached to him which made him smile wide. After giving him a light squeeze, he started caressing Lorcan's back.

Lorcan stirred, a soft content sound escaping his lips. Rowan kissed his hair. He felt so privileged that Lorcan let him hold him. After the life that Lorcan had lived, Rowan was surprised he let anyone touch him.

Before Rowan left for University, they barely touched besides chaste kisses and hand holding. Cuddling had been rare. Lorcan's past made it hard for him to be touched without flinching. It broke his heart every time Lorcan flinched at his touch. Now, their limbs were tangled and Rowan’s heart was soaring. In Rowan's sleepy stupor early this morning, he hadn't even realized how big of a deal it was that Lorcan willingly curled up in his arms. It felt so right holding the dark haired man to his chest. He wanted to wake up like this every morning, for the rest of their lives.

"Mmm," Lorcan nuzzled Rowan's chest and leaned against the caress of Rowan's hand on his back. The silver haired man smiled. "Thank you." The sleep was heavy in his voice.

"For what?"

"For holding me," the words were quiet and vulnerable. They pulled on Rowan's heart strings.

"Of course." He placed another kiss on Lorcan's head. "Do you want to talk?" The slight tension beneath his arm told him they probably weren't going to talk. And that was fine. At least Lorcan felt comfortable enough to seek comfort rather than suffer alone.

"Nightmare."

"I'm sorry, love. What was it?"

Lorcan just shrugged.

"Well, I'm here if you want to talk. I'll do whatever I can to help, okay?" Rowan brushed the black silky strands off Lorcan's face and looked into those gorgeous onyx eyes. They bumped noses and Lorcan hummed his acknowledgment.

"Kiss me?"

Rowan smiled, heart pattering, and leaned in to press his lips to his forehead. Lorcan huffed, Rowan chuckled. Another kiss was pressed to his temple. A sigh.

His cheek was next.

Humph.

Next, his nose.

Then Rowan teased his love once more, kissing the corner of his mouth. Lorcan whined, the corner of his mouth turned up at Rowan’s tomfoolery. Rowan touched their noses together and smiled. Another whine.

Finally, he put the man out of his misery and pressed his lips to the soft luscious lips of his favorite person. He was greeted with a soft moan. That's new.

Rowan wasn't expecting Lorcan's body to react as it did. He arched against him and Rowan felt a hardness against his thigh. For all that was good in this world, save him.

"Rowan," Lorcan breathed against his lips.

Fuck.

They hadn't even made out yet. Rowan had never felt Lorcan's body like this, they hadn’t been physically close enough to be able to feel any need from Lorcan’s body. He had never observed him wanting more than soft courting touches.

And the way he said his name. He wanted to melt into Lorcan.

Lorcan's hand swept down his sides, rested on his hip and gave it a squeeze. Rowan let out a soft moan.

"What do you want, Lorcan?" Rowan cupped his love's cheek with his other hand.

Lorcan ground his hips against Rowan's thigh. A groan left his lips.

"I need you to say what you want, love."

His love released a breath, "I want to feel good with you. I missed you." His words were quiet and vulnerable.

But holy gods above. Rowan made a note to thank Lorcan's therapist. He knew the sessions were helping, but he didn't realize there would be such a shift in the physicality of their relationship. He wondered if Lorcan touched himself now and what he thought about while doing it.

Now wasn't the time for those thoughts. Now was the time for deciding if they should really do this. Rowan really wanted to, it seemed like Lorcan really wanted to as well. Maybe they should just make out and see where it goes.

"I think we should start with making out first. And if you still feel strongly about continuing, we can." After seeing the hurt on Lorcan's face. Was he wrong? Maybe he should have just not said anything and just encouraged going slow with his actions. Fuck. "Oh, love, I want to make you come for me more than anything. Don't doubt that." He ran his fingers through his midnight hair. "We just haven't done a lot and I don't want to push you or have you push yourself farther than you want. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes." Rowan felt Lorcan start to pull away, rolling off Rowan and onto his side.

"Hey. Don't pull away. I didn't mean to hurt you or disappoint you. I just- I know you've been through a lot." He placed a gentle kiss on the corner of Lorcan's mouth. "Can I kiss you?"

His thumb caressed Lorcan's jaw. Those onyx eyes held a sadness, but also something else that Rowan couldn’t place.

Lorcan nodded. Though he seemed hesitant, Rowan hoped he was reading him wrong.

Rowan pressed his body against Lorcan's as he captured Lorcan's mouth, doing his best to show his emotions. Trying to show Lorcan that he was wanted. After a few sensual kisses, Rowan ran his tongue over the seam of his lover's lips. Lorcan whined as he opened his mouth. His tongue swept in and claimed Lorcan's mouth.

It seemed Lorcan's body wasn't sure what to do with the sensation of Rowan’s tongue in his mouth. He pressed into Rowan's chest, arched into every touch, and ground his hips against his thigh. It was as if the man’s brain had shut off and just needed a pressure release. Gods above, it was setting Rowan on fire. Their hands were everywhere, touching whatever they could.

It was heaven, until he made the mistake of putting his hand up Lorcan's hoodie to touch the skin of his back. He had just wanted to be closer, he hadn't thought it would have been an issue. But Lorcan broke away in an instant. And being lost in the moment, his mind was slow to catch up on what was happening. He had wanted to do this for months.

But when he went to pull Lorcan back to him, Lorcan was gone. Damn, he was fast.

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuck!

"Lorcan!" He untangled himself from the sheets and jogged to Lorcan's room. He knocked. "I'm sorry. Please let me in." Silence. "Please. I'm sorry." He rested his forehead on the door. Gods, he felt like shit. That was his second fuck up of the day and he’d only been awake for an hour.

After a couple minutes, he sighed, "I'm sorry.." He went back to his room to get dressed. He felt like crap. He had always been so careful before. Why did he let his body take control? He was just hoping he didn't ruin the progress that Lorcan had made over the last few months.

---

Hellas below, that had felt amazing. Lorcan had never wanted pleasure before. He had never cared before about the pleasures of the body. But something about being in Rowan's arms this morning, he felt the need to express himself. And Rowan's tongue in his mouth. Hel, it felt like he was melting, like their bodies would become one. His body was over stimulated and it just did whatever it could to touch Rowan.

Then, he had to panic. Why did he panic? He wanted Rowan's hands on his skin. His skin was burning to be touched, but he freaked out. Lorcan figured that was a product of some of the punishments Perrington gave him. There were light scars as proof of them. And then Rowan was too far gone to notice. The primal part of him to survive took over. So, he bailed. He ran. He wasn’t even sure how he managed to move so fast.

Now, he sat on the floor in the corner of his room, Rowan was at his door apologizing. But he couldn't move. He felt bad, but his body was still betraying him. He wanted to explain. Then, there was one last soft "I'm sorry" at the door before he heard footprints shuffle away.

Lorcan desperately wanted to cut himself. How could he have thought he was ready? Especially after Rowan turned him down, he hadn't actually wanted Rowan to kiss him after that, the rejection stung, but he felt like he couldn't say no. He should have said no. He pulled up his sleeve and ran his fingertips over the dozens and dozens of scars. He resisted the urge to grab the razor blade out of the spine of his journal. Instead, he let the voice of his therapist in his head take over as his fingers continued over the scarring.

His therapist had given him different techniques to help him in different situations. Lorcan started grounding himself. He wanted to be able to see Rowan and apologize for panicking before Rowan hated him again, if he didn't already.

Deep breath in..

Deep breath out...

---

It took several hours for his body to cooperate, but he finally got dressed and went downstairs. Lorcan was starving. It was just about dinner time. Rowan was in the living room, helping with putting up the Solstice decorations. His mother was making a shepherd's pie. Festive music was playing quietly in the background.

It wasn't unusual for Lorcan to make a first appearance so late in the day. Barb knew Lorcan had problems to work through and his meds made him fatigued. She didn't judge him, thankfully. He helped out when he could.

"Hello, dear. Rowan is in the living room. Dinner will be ready soon."

"Thanks." He used his finger to scoop up some mashed potatoes. She laughed and batted his hand away.

Lorcan moaned as he tasted the potatoes and knew dinner was going to be delicious. It had taken him several weeks before he could eat a full serving for a man his size. He loves food now. Which meant he loved everything Rowan's mother made.

Rowan was bending over, going through a box and Lorcan just stared at his ass. He felt his stomach flutter. He swallowed. Hellas, he wanted Rowan. Why did he have to panic earlier? He had really thought he was ready.

After a deep breath, he sat on the couch and said, "What are you looking for?"

Rowan jumped. "Shit!" He put a hand on his chest. Lorcan chuckled. "I, uh, shit. My heart is going crazy!"

There was a small playful smile on Lorcan's face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to.." His eyes drifted to the floor. Smile fading and Lorcan dropped his head. He took a deep breath. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.. to panic." The last word was quiet.

Rowan just knelt in front of him and grabbed his hands. His face was open and understanding.

"I'm sorry for not thinking with my brain. And don't apologize for panicking. Don't ever apologize for that, please. It's not your fault." He brought a hand up to cup Lorcan's cheek. His thumb brushed across his cheekbone.

He nodded, but Rowan could see the self deprecation churning in his thoughts. Rowan just rubbed his thumb over his cheek again.

After a few moments that look faded, Lorcan gestured to the box, "Can I help?"

"Yeah." The smile Lorcan received made his heart skip. They were going to be okay.

___

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire @tanvee1231

[painless-innit-colourful]

‘Where I Go, Will You Still Follow?’ - A Clingyduo Fic from the Hunger Games AU

In the most ironic twist, I missed Tommy’s lore stream on Monday writing Clingyduo comfort/hurt (in that order). I wasn’t sure whether this fandom needed any more angst right now, but whatever, take this anyway. This fic is set in a Hunger Games AU where the characters of the Dream SMP reside in Panem and must compete in the Games. Only Tommy + Tubbo appear in this fic though. Angst reigns supreme on Reaping Day, where the boys face the possibility of being picked for the deadly Hunger Games for the first time. (Also I promise you don’t have to have read HG to get this.)

tw nothing really, they’re only being reaped here.

word count: 3102

On the morning of the reaping, two boys tread carefully through a desolate orchard.

At this time of year, the trees are mostly left to their own devices. In about six months their boughs will bear fruit, and there will be plenty of people scurrying to and fro beneath them collecting their bounty to be stored and sent to the Capitol. Those very boys will join them. However, on that late Spring morning there is no one about. During this season the trees require only the occasional pruning, and everyone’s still in bed this early anyway. No reason to get up on a day where you don’t need to. Public holidays like this are rare.

Tommy and Tubbo hold hands as they move through the trees. Old habit, they suppose, a defense mechanism against getting split up, for better or worse. With the number of people in their district it can make public gatherings hazardous for lonely children, and if there’s anything worse than getting caught alone in a stampede, it’s getting left behind in a chase. If one boy falls, so does the other. If one boy is caught with his hand in the larder, the other will be nearby. The two of them are a package deal: where one goes, the other follows.

They only stop when they’re sure they’re properly alone, deep in the orchard. It would take anyone hours to find them; it would take most people hours to get out from this point. But years spent traversing these paths - both from the ground and the branches above - have given them an instinctual knowledge on which way to go. They settle in beneath a large apple tree; lush and green now that the blossoms have since blown away. They go about unwrapping several grease paper packages that were previously weighing down their pockets as Tommy hums a tune to keep them company. Tubbo shuffles uncomfortably as they lay out a small breakfast of half a loaf of bread - dark and dotted with seeds, District 11’s signature - a petite disc of cheese that Tubbo suspects Tommy sat on at some point, and an apple each. Food they either squirreled away from the pantry at the orphanage or stole outright. The thought pinches Tubbo’s cheeks.

“What’s that sour face for?” Tommy asks him, flicking his eyes up every so often as he arranges the cheese on the bread with a tiny knife stashed in his boot and breaks the half-crescent of bread roughly in half. “You’re not still worried about getting caught.”

Tubbo sighs, and it tells Tommy all he needs to know. “C’mon! We covered our tracks and literally no one saw us.” When Tubbo’s expression doesn’t change, he puts a comforting hand on his friend’s arm. “Well, definitely no one saw you. I’ll take the hit for it, if they find out.”

“No, it’s- fine.”

“Your face says otherwise, my friend.” All the same, Tommy retracts his arm and finishes haphazardly spreading the cheese upon the bread. He nudges one of the apples towards Tubbo with his foot, “Here, start.”

“Excuse me, the apple comes after the main course, how dare you break tradition.”

“My apologies, my liege.”

The easy smile returns briefly to Tubbo’s face as they laugh, then quickly melts away again. Tommy fixes him with a sympathetic look. “What?” Tubbo asks, locking eyes with him as he finishes brutalising the cheese and hands him his half. “You’re worried about the reaping.”

“And you’re not?”

“Should I be?” When Tubbo gives him a sideways glare, Tommy shrugs. “Dude, it’s a tiny chance. Two in thousands and thousands. You’re more likely to get struck by lightning than have either of our names fished out of the bowl.” And though Tommy was likely skewing his numbers a bit, he supposed it was true. It was their first year of reapings and neither of them had taken any tesserae. They were about as safe as you could be between the ages of twelve and eighteen. Still…

“Besides,” Tommy continued. “If your name gets called, I’m sure someone would volunteer for you.” He barely makes it to the end of his sentence before Tubbo’s noise of dismissal drowns him out. “Yeah right. Let’s be realistic here.” Tommy leans back against the tree as he eats. Sunlight peeks through the branches at random intervals, illuminating him in softly glowing patches. He turns his head slightly and beckons Tubbo over with a nod. They shift their bodies and the food around until they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder between two large roots, and Tubbo finds that the sunlight is almost as warm as Tommy beside him.

They remain in that position for some time, eating their way through their swindled picnic. It’s a bit much for an ordinary breakfast, but it’s somewhat of a tradition to have something special on reaping day. Makes the hours standing in the square while the Mayor drones on about how it’s right to send two children to their deaths a bit more bearable. According to those traditions, you’re supposed to celebrate with a meal after the reaping too, though neither boy is quite sure where that convention came from. Not many in District 11 could afford it in any case.

At some point Tubbo drops a hand to the floor between them, and at some later instance Tommy places his where their fingers can interlace. “You’re nervous too.” Tubbo states without looking at his companion, instead remaining as he is, staring past the leaves to the clear blue sky. “No way.” Tubbo giggles at Tommy’s indignant tone. “A big man like me is not scared of being picked in the reaping.”

“Fearless he is, Big Man Tommy.”

“Too right!” They laugh, and the terror their giggles mask bubbles just beneath the surface, a pot mere seconds from boiling over. 

“Look, Tommy,” Tubbo’s voice becomes serious, and Tommy’s laughter peters out. “It’s all well and good laughing and joking about it, but… In the event one of us is chosen…” Their eyes meet and Tubbo squeezes Tommy’s hand, to which Tommy returns the grip. “I need you to tell me you remember our promise.” In response, Tommy sighs, drops Tubbo’s hand, puts that arm around his best friend’s shoulder, pulls him close and runs his free hand through his hair, almost all simultaneously. “Yes of course I remember it.”

“And?” Tubbo replies expectantly.

“And what?”

“Say it, you dummy.” Tommy places his free hand over his heart like a salute. “I, Tommy Innit, promise my dearest friend Tubbo Underscore, that if he is chosen for the Hunger Games in this afternoon’s reaping, I will not volunteer to take his place.” He waits for Tubbo to relax, satisfied, before tacking on: “Thus letting him be led away to a faraway place to be on television then get brutally murdered, also on television. “ He can feel Tubbo’s eye roll without even looking. “You made me promise the same.”

“Yeah I did, didn’t I?” He admits quietly, leaning his head against his best friend’s, brown curls obscuring half his vision.

“It’ll be okay, right?”

“Yeah.” Tubbo’s hair smells faintly of apples, somehow. Tommy squeezes his best friend and hopes he won’t have to betray him.

Unbeknownst to him, Tubbo has the same thought.

---

The duo spend the hours before the reaping as they usually do: sleeping in each others embrace somewhere they technically shouldn’t be, pretending the clothes they have to change into back at the orphanage are any better than what they’re changing out of, and hogging the second floor bathroom for way longer than necessary. The black storm cloud that is the reaping casts a longer shadow than previous years, but they manage to ignore it for most of the morning with enough shenanigans to fill their quota for the year. The clouds threaten to burst however when the time reaches half twelve, and the parentless teenagers of the district begin to make their way towards the square where the ceremony will take place. The once-blue sky darkens as the crumbling facade of the Justice Building comes into view, as if nature were waiting for her cue, and Tommy wonders if he jinxed himself with his earlier comments about being struck by lightning.

He’s holding Tubbo’s hand again - standard crowd procedure - and he’s thankful for about the millionth time that they’re the same age. They head with the other twelve year old orphans to the corresponding pen for their age group, and find themselves sandwiched in the centre. Tubbo exchanges a few words with some of their peers, most likely to be ‘Good luck’, but Tommy’s not really concentrating. The square is already full and still there’s many more people to come, and with every person that joins the crowd there will only be more cramming the possible tributes together like sardines in a tin. There have been crushes at reapings before; they tell them in school about the reaping for the seventh games, where too many spectators packed the floor and there was a panic that killed four people, including one kid in the crowd. In an ironic twist, their name was later pulled from the ball, and their escort had to be informed live on stage in front of the entire nation that they’d died earlier that day.

Decidedly, the odds were not in their favour.

Tommy doesn’t like to admit it, but tight spaces get to him. And here, packed in by bodies with camera crews perched high on the rooftops over the crowd, scanning for the faces that will leave the district tonight, he feels like a fish in a barrel. “Hey-” Tubbo’s voice reaches him through the din of thousands of people talking at once, but he sounds a million miles away. He practically crushes Tubbo’s fingers with his own, and, in retaliation, Tubbo flicks him on the nose. He blinks at him angrily for a second, the distraction welcome despite his show of annoyance. “Breathe, Tommy.” He forces air in and out of his lungs for about thirty seconds just to make sure he still can. Tubbo traces stars on the back of his hand.

By the time the Mayor’s stepped up to the podium and began his yearly recitation of the history of Panem, Tommy thinks he’s calmed himself down somewhat. Tubbo still traces stars in little pentagram patterns on Tommy’s hand with his thumb, and though it’s starting to get a little irritating, something stops him from signalling him to knock it off. He glances briefly sideways to Tubbo, and though his expression is mostly blank, the two have gotten used to watching each other’s tics and tells, signs that are imperceptible to anyone else but them. The small twitch at the corner of his mouth, the way he scrunches his nose slightly when he blinks, even the way he presses a little too hard with his thumb, his patterns becoming less uniform and the edges of his nails leaving little scratches. He’s as scared as Tommy. So he lets him keep doing it, for both their sakes.

The Mayor finishes his history lecture, reads the list of past victors and then finally introduces the District 11 escort, a spritely-looking man in a bottle-green suit called Montaque. He’s been the district’s escort for a few years, and Tommy and Tubbo used to joke his mustache was so spiky-sharp looking you could win a Games by using it as a weapon. He seems to glide across the stage as he gives a speech about District pride or some nonsense, then utters the classic phrase, “Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour.” 

He crosses the stage to the front where two glass balls sit, holding thousands of tiny slips of paper. A lump forms in Tommy’s throat. Somewhere in one of those balls there’s two slips of paper that could serve as their one way ticket to the Capitol. He knows they’re somewhat lucky: some kids their age have many more slips thanks to tesserae, but Tommy feels a pang in his chest even as he thinks about it. Some kids have parents. Some kids have somewhere to put their tesserae so it won’t immediately get stolen. He and Tubbo may have considered it, but what use would they have for grain and oil when on most days they could barely hold onto their bedsheets? It was one less thing to worry about.

Montaque the Stupid sticks one of his disproportionately-large hands into the first glass ball, and retrieves a slip of paper, and Tommy begs inside his mind, not us not us not him. He reads the name, and the entire world suddenly stops spinning. Somewhere in the back of Tommy’s mind is a lag, like when one person in a chain of people passing produce from a field to a wagon disappears. The chain does its best to keep up, but it’s very quickly overwhelmed, leaving debris in the form of dropped vegetables and a backlog that needs to be attended to.

That’s how it feels inside Tommy’s head as the crowd parts for him, a sea of people craning their necks as they shuffle aside to form a runway for him towards the stage. This can’t be happening. His mind can’t catch up to the fact, doesn’t want to catch up to the fact that this is happening. He glances to his side and immediately regrets the action, for Tubbo stands beside him looking equal parts shell shocked and distressed. Their eyes meet, teary and desperate, and Tommy only has the strength to mouth ‘Promise’, before his feet start to carry him towards the stage alone, and his hand in Tubbo’s becomes an outstretched arm. When they finally let go Tommy can feel the ghost of his friend’s hand in his own, and knows that it will be one of the last kind touches he ever receives. He tries not to think of that as he half-marches towards the veranda. He doesn’t look back for fear it’ll set him off crying, but if he were to, he would see Tubbo standing impossibly alone in such a huge crowd, holding the hand that held Tommy’s to his chest.

He mounts the stage and looks out over the people of the district he calls home, a tiny voice in his head telling him to make the most of this last time. Last time. He searches for Tubbo in the crowd, spotting him easily by the empty pathway he just walked down being slowly absorbed back into the crowd. He can see even from here the tears shining on his cheeks, the way his whole body shakes with the effort of holding more back. There’s a couple orphanage kids looking like they’re trying to console him, and, if Tommy should weigh in, doing a pretty sh’it job. He looks away to watch Montaque snatch the second slip of paper from the glass ball, and he tenses every fibre of his being shouting internally please please please. The name is read, and this time Tommy finds himself still breathing and present as some older kid makes his own shaky way to the podium. He’s about fourteen, with a stocky build that betrays work in the crop fields. As he takes his place opposite Tommy, the young boy is reminded that the Games will be full of people like him. Stronger, older opponents. Tommy, at the monumental age of twelve, doesn’t stand a chance.

The moment lingers, and then it keeps lingering, and then Tommy turns to Montaque to find out why the da’mn moment won’t move on. He’s staring out into the crowd once more, and Tommy’s heart, already too heavy, drops straight into his boots as he follows Montaque’s gaze. The crowd parts once more, and Tubbo strides forward, a shaky confidence marking his every step. The murmurs around the square hush, as he comes to stand mere metres from the tributes. Tommy wants to catch his eye, shake his head, scream at him to stop, but Tubbo doesn’t look at him. Tommy knows exactly what he intends to do as he opens his mouth; Tommy mouths the words along with him.

“I volunteer as tribute.”

Now you’ve gone and done it.

Montaque, biggest pri’ck on the planet, waxes lyrical about courage and bravery while he arranges the exchange of the fourteen year old for Tubbo. As if he’d ever know what it is to be brave. As the Mayor takes over once more, reading the Treaty of Treason as he is bound by duty to do, Tommy tries to catch the attention of his best friend, who’s acting annoyingly aloof. He watches as Tubbo stares into the distance, looking alarmingly calm with the whole ordeal. Tommy wants to scream, and do a bit more than scream and call him all the foul names he can think of and demand he un-volunteer and why? You stupid bi’tch absolute idiot why would you volunteer when we had a promise, why did you betray the promise? Why? Why why why why why?

As the Mayor wraps up the Treaty bore-fest, he motions for the two tributes to shake hands. Tributes. Now bound unrelentingly for an arena where they will kill other people. Other children. Maybe even each other.

Tommy feels some comfort in how helpless their situation is. Odds are they’ll die long before each other are a threat. They’re going to be a team obviously, and Tommy’s going to protect Tubbo as long as he can. That’s what he promised him the day they met, and that’s what he intends to do.

They shake hands, and Tubbo finally looks at him. The tears have dried on his cheeks. They take a little longer than is necessary, conducting a silent conversation between them.

‘Sorry.’

‘I am so fu’cking mad at you.’

‘You thought I would really leave you?’

‘I hoped I was wrong.’

They stand for the anthem. They are carted into the Justice Building to wait for people to come and say goodbye. No one comes. They weren’t expecting anyone anyway. They are all they have; all they’ve ever had. And where one goes, the other follows.

Tommy waits alone in the Justice Building, trying to figure out if the first thing he’ll do when he’s alone with Tubbo is hug him or strangle him. Beyond that though, he has to protect his boy. He has to keep his promise. An uneasy feeling stirs his gut. One promise has already been broken today.

And the odds aren’t playing nice.

[nonobadcat]

A Taste of Your Own Venom - Chapter 46 Excerpt

Yandere Shigaraki Tomura X Consensual F!Reader 

Rating: Explict - Not for minors

TW for this chapter : Drug Abuse and Opioid Overdose Death

Read the full story on Archive of Our Own

About two rows over, you found the people you were searching for. Dabi teetered on a chair, tightening a bolt on one of the larger nomu tanks while The Doctor bustled around, checking some of the pressure readings. As you rounded the corner, blue eyes flickered to you and back again.

“Morning, Doc,” Dabi greeted, continuing to crack the wrench around the bolt. “I figured you’d be knee-deep in studying right now.”

You shrugged.“I should be, but we had an interesting case at the hospital.”

The Doctor’s ears perked, but he never looked away from the screen. “Define interesting.”

“Suspected Carfentanyl contamination of heroin,” you explained as the events of yesterday played across your mind:

About two hours after you left radiology, you’d heard the code blue page to the young man’s room. Dr. Agaki and you quickly deserted your duties to head down to the ICU along with the cardiology resident, Dr. Lin. You could still hear the panting cries of Dr. Okane as she sat on top of the young man, pumping her stiff arms against his ribcage at the pulsing cadence of the Bee Gee’s “Staying Alive”. The nurse pushed another massive dose of naloxone and then chased it with epinephrine. One of the paramedics practically bagged the intubated patient every 5 seconds. After ten minutes of rotating compressions, Dr. Okane called the CPR to a close. Her hair was plastered to her pale face as she ripped a pack of cigarettes out of her lab coat and stormed out the emergency exit. Her mascara was ruined.

There was tightening in your throat at the memory. You swallowed it down.

“The patient didn’t make it,” you stated, forcing your voice to remain even. “Too many preexisting complications.”

“Carfentanyl?” The Doctor snorted, waving his hand dismissively. “Uncommon, but hardly interesting.”

“For you perhaps,” you pointed out, walking up to the workstation he was at.  “But for me, it seemed to have some practical implications.”

Now you had the old man’s full attention. The Doctor stroked his mustache and raised a bushy eyebrow at you. “And why come to me about it?”

“I figured you might have some on hand.” You gestured to the tank. “In case something big got out of control around here.”

“I might,” replied The Doctor, raising an eyebrow as a dark smile crossed his lips. “However, that medication would be extremely dangerous for you to learn. It’s well absorbed transmucosally and highly potent. Even a diluted dose could kill you.”

“There’s a reversal agent,” you pointed out. “And besides, the side effects are predictable. We’re mostly looking at respiratory depression.” You stretched your arms out and gestured to the tanks throughout the lab. “You can’t tell me you don’t have a spare ventilator here.”

Now Dabi’s interest had been perked. He hopped off the chair, landing gracefully on his feet. “Ventilator, huh?” His blue eyes burned bright in the dusty din of the laboratory. He crossed his patchwork arms and stare at you as if he’d never really seen you before. “That does sound risky. You sure Shigaraki would approve of that?”

You sneered at him. “I’m a grown woman,” Your finger pointed rudely at his nose. “I don’t need to ask permission to fuck up my own life.”

Dabi’s grin stretched from ear to ear and he raised his chin and stared down his nose at you. “My my…” he murmured in a teasing tone. “You really are determined today aren’t you? Feeling a bit useless not being in the fight against that thing?”

You bristled at the comment, clenching your fists tight.

Dabi was such a little shit sometimes.

Read the rest: at Archive of Our Own

[lailaliquorice]

one more chance; one more breath

alternative title: NEW PARRLYN ANGST IS HERE so this was meant to be the same length as the last one, and here it is at pretty much double the wordcount. but I absolutely love these two and how soft they are. this does make the odd reference to ‘our lungs are full’ but you don’t really need to read that to understand this, if you’d like to then it’s listed in my writing masterpost :)

TW: a little non-graphic blood

It wasn’t often that Cathy slept deeply enough to dream. Her style of functioning was to stay up late enough and make herself tired enough that she would fall asleep the minute her head hit the pillow every night, her imagination too worn out to keep on working overnight. Then she’d wake up the next morning still half-asleep and exhaust herself again over the course of the day so that the same cycle would repeat again and again.

She knew Anne had nightmares though. It had been a few weeks since their first conversation about Anne’s coping mechanisms, and since then she’d confided in Cathy about her occasional night terrors that no-one ever heard due to her having the attic bedroom. Kat’s were a lot more frequent, often prompting Jane to check on her in the night when they were at their worst, but Anne would just stay awake writing for the rest of the night whenever they happened for fear of reliving her death again if she fell back asleep. It explained the dark circles that Cathy would see under her eyes and her unusually quiet demeanour some mornings.

Cathy had promised Anne that she could come down into her bedroom if she was woken by a nightmare, joking that it was more than likely she’d still be awake to reassure Anne that she wouldn’t be disturbing her. She hadn’t needed to for a couple of weeks afterwards, but when Anne came down with a mild cold Cathy had made sure to repeat her promise in case her fever made the nightmares return in full force.

As she’d been anticipating, a timid knock on Cathy’s door at 2am caught her attention from where she’d been writing non-stop for a few hours. Upon opening the door she was faced with a barely kept-together Anne Boleyn, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and scared eyes shining bright with tears. “Can I come in?” she asked almost inaudibly, looking as though she was about to cry.

“Course you can,” Cathy said, standing back to let Anne shuffle past her into her bedroom. After shutting the door she sat down cross legged on her bed and patted the duvet for Anne to join her, waiting for her to sit down before she asked “Do you want to talk about it?”

Anne shrugged, sniffing and wiping her sleeve underneath her nose. Cathy leaned over to her bedside table for her box of tissues and offered it to Anne, who took one with a quiet murmur of thanks. She was quiet for another minute or so before she mumbled “I dreamed- I dreamed I was back in the Tower again. And it was really hot and the walls started closing in and no-one came when I was shouting. No-one came to let me out.” Her voice became more and more wobbly as she spoke, her breath hitching as she first tears started to fall.

“Come here,” Cathy murmured, and Anne practically threw herself into Cathy’s arms the minute she had verbal permission. There was no distraught sobbing like the last time Cathy had held her as she cried; the only sign she was upset at all was how much she was shaking in an effort to stifle her sobs, making Cathy wonder how many times she had cried alone in a desperate attempt not to wake anyone else up. She didn’t try to quiet her with gentle shushing, just let Anne hold onto her for as long as she needed to.

Just like the first time, she’d begun to wonder whether Anne was falling asleep before she heard a quiet “Can I stay here tonight?” from over her shoulder.

“Of course love,” Cathy said, her hand moving of its own accord to stroke Anne’s errant hair as she felt her finally relax. “Do you want to try and sleep again? I’m not done yet so I can wake you up if I think you’re dreaming again.”

Anne hummed indecisively as she sat back down, taking another tissue to wipe her tear-stained cheeks. “I don’t know,” she said quietly at first, wringing her hands as she looked up to meet Cathy’s gaze. “You sure I won’t be bothering you?”

Cathy shook her head. “Never. Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

Pulling her blanket with her, Anne crawled over to the other side of the double bed and wriggled under the duvet as Cathy fetched her notebook and pen. There was fear in her eyes as she looked up at up, obvious terror that she was going to see the inside of her prison as soon as she closed her eyes. “It’s alright, I’m right here,” Cathy said, smoothing Anne’s hair away from her forehead and feeling her temperature at the same time. She was still running a slight fever but it was nowhere near bad enough to cause her concern.

Anne nodded, her chin trembling for a second. “It’s always worse when I’m not well. I know if I’m overtired then it’ll be bad.”

“I don’t think that’s surprising, and it’s not your fault either,” Cathy said softly, squeezing Anne’s hand when she blinked back tears at her second point. “That’s why I mentioned earlier that you’re welcome to come in here if you need me.” She paused for a moment then before adding “If you’re still not feeling right tomorrow then would you like me to sleep in your room? It might stop the nightmares if you know someone’s there with you.”

“That’d be really nice,” Anne whispered. A stray tear rolled down her cheek which she quickly rubbed away, just about managing to smile up at her.

Cathy returned the smile, repositioning her own pillow against the headboard so she could lean back comfortably. “That’s what we’ll do then. Now try and get some sleep, I’ll be right here next to you.”

Anne nodded again, rolling onto her side facing Cathy and hesitating only a moment before she closed her eyes.

It wasn’t long before Anne’s rhythmic breathing indicated she was asleep again. Cathy kept on working by the light of her bedside lamp for another hour or so, watchful for any change in Anne’s peaceful expression that could indicate she was having another night terror. Only once did Cathy need to intervene when her brow pinched and she let out a soft whimper in her sleep, but she only had to cradle Anne’s hand in her own and call her name a couple of times for her to relax again.

When the clock on her phone read 3:30am she opted to call it a night, checking on Anne one last time before carefully settling down next to her. Anne’s sense of personal space had never been particularly strong but Cathy was still cautious to leave a decent space between them. Even though Anne had taken the leap of trusting her with her insecurities she didn’t want to infringe on her boundaries by sleeping too close, and if Cathy was honest with herself she didn’t know how she would react to waking up with Anne curled around her. She had always been fairly tactile since her reincarnation but with Anne it seemed to send her heart racing in a way she couldn’t understand.

But Anne didn’t seem to have moved at all when Cathy woke up a few hours later, still sleeping soundly with her blanket and Cathy’s duvet pulled tightly around her shoulders. With a fond smile, Cathy carefully slipped out from under the duvet and left a post-it note on her bedside lamp to tell Anne she’d gone down to the kitchen. She’d already been scheduled a day off from the show so Cathy was in no rush to wake her, happy to leave Anne in her bed until she woke up of her own accord.

As promised, when Cathy and the other Queens got home from the show that evening she changed into her pyjamas and took her makeup off before heading up into the attic.  Anne was sat in bed reading when she peered her head around the open door, but looked up with a smile when she saw Cathy looking in. “Hey you,” she greeted her, throwing back her duvet and jumping to her feet. She too looked as though she was ready for bed, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts with her hair plaited loosely down her back. “Come in, make yourself comfy. How’d the show go?”

“Brilliant thanks, everything went off without a hitch. We missed you though,” Cathy said as she closed the door behind her, the second comment slipping out without her realising it. “How are you feeling?” she added in a desperate attempt to cover her slip up.

Anne smirked, most likely at the blush that Cathy could feel creeping across her cheeks. “Aww, thanks,” she said, “And I’m doing alright. Ready for bed though, I can tell you that much. I’d have probably fallen asleep hours ago I wasn’t waiting up for you.”

Cathy glanced at her phone, noting with surprise that it was only 11:30. “I normally wouldn’t think about going to sleep for hours yet,” she admitted, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside Anne.

“Really?” Anne asked, laughing when Cathy gave a sheepish nod. “Don’t know how you do it, I really don’t. Aren’t you always tired?”

It was a question that Cathy was used to answering, but there was a note of genuine concern in Anne’s voice that made her smile. “Nearly always,” she replied honestly. “The key to success is taking random naps during the day. I’m surprised you don’t walk in on me curled up on the sofa more often.” She laughed as she finished, recalling the few times when she’d been woken to the sound of Kat or Anna dropping something and ending their well-meant attempts to stay quiet.

“Jane bans us from the living room whenever she knows that you’re asleep,” Anne explained, and Cathy made a note to thank their resident mum friend for safeguarding her nap times with her iron will. She was brought back to the present when Anne yawned widely and added with a grin “I think I might need to go to bed.”

“You might be right there,” Cathy agreed. “Perhaps it’ll do me good to get an early night too for a change, though I might be awake at 6am because of it.”

Anne laughed, crawling back into bed and pulling her duvet back up. Cathy stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed for a moment before Anne patted the pillow next to her, asking “You coming to bed?” as Cathy smiled and got in beside her.

As she’d expected, Anne was fast asleep within a few minutes of saying goodnight. Cathy was lying down scrolling through an article in her phone, expecting that she wouldn’t begin to feel sleepy for a while yet, but she was surprised when Anne suddenly rolled over in her sleep and rested her head in the crook of Cathy’s neck. For a moment she froze, very aware that she was only wearing a vest top and low-slung trousers, but then she relaxed under the gentle weight of Anne’s head and her arm slung across Cathy’s stomach. The text became blurrier and blurrier until Cathy’s phone clattered to the floor and she fell asleep.

And for the first time in a long time, Cathy dreamed.

She recognised the place she was in as a home from her former life, but her hands were still the warm brown she had become accustomed to in her new body. For a reason unknown to her she felt compelled to pick up her heavy skirts and start to run down the corridor, her heart starting to hammer from both the running and the fear that she couldn’t put a label on. As if her instincts knew that something terrible was about to happen. But her feet didn’t drive her towards the King’s chambers; instead she practically flew down the castle staircase into the courtyard.

The sound of shouting only drove her to run faster, careening around a corner to see a familiar face struggling to free herself from the grasp of several armed guards. Anne It was the face she knew in the dress of their past, but the furious swearing was a sure sign that this was her friend’s twenty-first century compartment rather than her Tudor self. She managed to elbow a guard in the face and kick another’s shin to grant herself a second’s freedom, but just as she was about to bolt she glanced upwards and locked eyes with Cathy. Her anger faded for a moment as she paused for a moment too long.

The guards were on her in seconds. “Cathy help me!” she screamed, her voice panicked, and Cathy immediately moved forwards to help her only to find she was glued to the courtyard floor. She cried out Anne’s name as she tried desperately to reach for her, but Anne’s frantic efforts came to nothing as she guards multiplied from nowhere to surround her.

There was a flash of metal, and then Anne sunk to the floor with a guttural scream. The guards dispersed to reveal her hunched over with blood pouring from her neck, staining her pale skin and pooling in the material in her dress. Cathy could still do nothing but watch in horror as Anne struggled to stem the scarlet river to no avail, hardly recognising the sound of her own desperate shouts as she watched her friend struggle for her life. She fell to her knees as her legs gave away, screaming and sobbing as Anne called her name in a broken voice.

“Cathy!”

She jolted forwards into a sitting position, chest heaving to pull air into her lungs as she clawed at her throat. Her skin was clammy and cold, face streaked with tears and forehead beaded with sweat. The suffocating darkness left her feeling completely untethered with no idea where she was, until a light was turned on and she was suddenly faced with an incredibly worried-looking Anne.

Her legs stilled from where she’d been trying to kick back the duvet tangled around her legs. Then she surged forwards and flung her arms around Anne’s neck. “You’re alive,” she sobbed out repeatedly, burying her head in Anne’s shoulder as she shook uncontrollably. Somewhere beneath the adrenaline coursing through her veins she felt gentle hands rub soothing circles into her upper back.

“Course I’m alive silly,” Anne whispered in her ear, waiting for her trembling to subside a little before she let Cathy sit back. “You just had a nightmare hun, you were shouting my name and thrashing around like mad. I’m alright, ok?”

Cathy hummed as she nodded, still feeling incredibly shaken as the dim lamplight shone illuminated the scar around Anne’s neck. “Yeah,” she said in a hollow voice, roughly wiping her eyes.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

On one hand she didn’t, wishing she could forget her dream had ever happened and banish the image of Anne bleeding to death from her mind’s eye. But her mouth was moving and words were pouring out before she had a chance to shake her head. “I was at Hampton Court I think, can’t really remember. And I was running into the courtyard and you were there fighting the guards, they were trying to drag you away and I couldn’t move or do anything. Then your neck was cut and you were screaming and bleeding and I- and I-.”

Anne pulled her into another tight hug as her voice failed her, murmuring sweet nothings as Cathy clung to her like a lifeline. The feeling of solid arms around her was a comforting one and Cathy could have stayed forever in her embrace, reassuring herself that Anne really was ok and it had been nothing more than a bad dream.

After several minutes Anne leaned back, taking one of Cathy’s hands and brushing the back of her fingers over her scar. “I’m alright, see? Still attached,” Anne said with a smile, reaching out with her other hand to wipe away the fresh tears that spilled down Cathy’s cheeks. Cathy couldn’t remember crying so much since her reincarnation but felt no shame as she leaned into Anne’s touch, the lingering fear from her dream making her desperate for any physical contact that proved her friend really was still there and within reach. Her fingers on Anne’s neck felt somewhat intimate, humbled by the enormous step her friend was taking by letting her touch her scar when she kept it so carefully hidden from everyone else.

“Come on,” Anne murmured, moving to lie back down beneath the duvet. Cathy was about to just lie next to her when Anne tugged on her wrist and pulled her closer, snaking an arm around Cathy’s back as she hesitantly rested her head on Anne’s chest. “You hear that?” she asked, and when Cathy stopped focusing on her voice she heard and felt the gentle pulse of Anne’s heartbeat beneath her skin. “Long as you can hear that I’m still alive and I’m not going anywhere.”

The repetitive sound was enough to calm her own racing heart, understanding why Anne and Elizabeth had always found it such a comfort. “Sorry,” she said without thinking about it, forcing herself to continue even after Anne shook her head. “I came in here to help you with nightmares and now look at me.”

“S’alright,” Anne murmured in a voice impossibly gentle, her hand finding Cathy’s and her thumb gently smoothing over her knuckles. “Happens to the best of us eh?”

“Yeah,” Cathy breathed out with a muted chuckle. She was already becoming sleepy again, Anne’s unspoken repeat of her own promise the night before banishing the misgivings from her mind and pulling her back towards unconsciousness. “You’re warm,” she whispered after a while, aware of the fever heat being emitted from Anne’s skin.

Anne laughed lightly. “I’m not well,” she reminded her, adding on “I’m cold and you’re a good blanket though so don’t you dare move.”

Cathy hummed in agreement as Anne reached over to flicked the lamp back off, but the dark wasn’t so scary when Cathy had Anne’s touch and her heartbeat to keep her anchored into reality. When they eventually fell back asleep, they both had the most peaceful night of rest in each other’s arms than they’d had in a long time.

[amintyworld]

LITTOH Chapter 2: On the Rooftop

A/N: I was planning on posting this fic earlier this week, but then school and life got on the way and now it’s Sunday. This is the longest fanfic I’ve EVER written, tallying on a google doc about 8 pages. I hope all of you are as excited for this series as I am. Your author, Minty.

Summary: After a small bit of hope sparks some confusing feelings, Virgil and Roman try to go back to fighting their own battles.

TW: Cancer mention, death mention, vomiting, loss of consciousness, parasite mention, logicality implied. (let me know if I missed any!)

LITTOH Masterlist

Virgil groaned, shifting, as the morning light eased him awake. Did he sleep through the night?! Jeez, these meds are strong. He felt a warm body pressed against his.

Roman…?

He slowly opened his eyes. He wouldn’t admit it, but the warmth was surprisingly comforting. He looked around the empty, quiet room and noticed the closed door. He didn’t remember closing it. He heard a content sigh from behind him. He looked down to notice an arm wrapped around him, and his face flushed red in seconds. He noticed his face nuzzled close, oh god they were so close…

He slowly crept out of the bed, as not to wake him. He needed to get out of here. He wanted nothing more than to hide away in his room. Virgil didn’t like the tightness in his chest, or the overwhelming heat on his face that no amount of foundation could hide.

As he slowly walked to the door, his stomach churned. His eyes widened. No..no, no, no, no!

Virgil quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, desperately trying to stop the inevitable. The room spun as he tried to stay upright.

Don’t fall, please no…

Roman stirred, rubbing his eyes. “Virgil…?”

Virgil looked pale and sickly, and...scared? He dashed out the door, ripping his black medical mask off as he puked into a nearby trash can. With this, Roman was awake. He threw off the covers, rushing to Virgil’s side. Virgil was shivering. Roman rubbed his back soothingly. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. He bit his cheek, concerned, looking round for nurses.

“It’s okay, Virgil.” Roman said. “It’s...it’s going to be okay.”

Nurses rushed over from the front desk of the ward, pushing Roman back. “Breathe, Virgil. Deep breaths, okay?” A nurse with the tag ‘Patton’ said. Virgil’s face was so pale, so deathly pale, and his chest struggled to heave in and out. Another nurse rushed to get a wheelchair, scooping Virgil up, god he looked so weak…

Roman was uneasy, mind filled with thoughts and words that somehow couldn’t leave his mind. He stood there. It was strange how one moment, life can be normal, smiles, and laughter. Then, well…

Why was he so upset? He didn’t even know him. He didn’t-

Yet the sinking feeling in his stomach spoke the truth.

-------------------

Virgil felt weak and dizzy, and he felt the familiar press of the warm plastic, and the tight strap that wrapped around his head. The voice was firm, but gentle. “Breathe, Virgil.”

It was distant.

The airborne medicine flew into his lungs as he breathed shakingly. His world slowly came back into focus, the mask becoming fogged. Logan gave a small smile.

“There we are.” He felt his forehead. “Just keep breathing.”

Logan was the head doctor of Urgent Care Ward. He was a resident doctor of the hospital, Patton his close friend since highschool. “Patton, he needs an IV and a nose breathing tube, his vitals are dropping.”

Patton gave a sharp nod, rushing out the door, a determined look on his face.

Logan pressed the cold metal of his stethoscope to his chest, sending a shiver down his spine. His eyes were fixed, focused.

“Deep breath, okay?”

Confusion flashed across the doctor’s face. He pushed up his glasses, mumbling to himself, thinking. “That dose should’ve worked, I don’t…” He looked toward Virgil, speaking calmly. “We should be getting your X-Ray results soon, they should clear things up.”

Patton walked in, hooking up the IV quickly, hydrating the weakened patient. He stroked his hair comfortingly, and Virgil offered a weak smile in return. He slowly turned the medicine flow off and carefully removed the mask.

Virgil's breathing had become more even, but he was still really tired. It was terrifying- panic and puke, breathing slipping from his grasp all too quickly. The nose tubes were uncomfortable, and very familiar. Painfully familiar.

Patton smiled down at him as Logan headed for the door swiftly, other matters to attend to. "How ya doing, kiddo?"

"F-fine…" Virgil said shakily, taking a deep breath of the oxygen before speaking again. "Just...tired…"

"Of course, kiddo." Patton could sense the panic in Virgil, and pushed some stray bangs out of his face. "You should rest, I'll check on you in a little while, okay?"

Virgil nodded, looking up at the white ceiling. The same white ceiling he had looked at for days, listening to his music and blocking out the world.

He couldn't help but have his thoughts wonder to Roman. He wished he was here, to hum his melodies…

Slow down, Virgil. You've only known him for like, a day. Now suddenly he's all you think about?!

His mind was pulled out of the clouds as he heard Patton talking to someone. He knew he shouldn't snoop, but honestly, he didn't really have a choice. Their words were loud enough to hear as they talked outside of his room.

"So...you seem pretty tired from the night shift, Lo. You wanna get a coffee on break?" His voice was nervous, yet full of hope.

"I probably will, Patton. Thank you for the suggestion." Logan said, his voice unwavering, always focused.

Logan's shoes made a loud sound on the floor as he walked off. He heard Patton's discontent sigh.

"Oh, Logan…" Patton said, a bit of sadness in his voice. "You really can't take a hint, can you?"

----------------

Roman sat in the waiting room, nervous. He'd been on his first round of chemo, and it was finally time to see if it worked.

Or worse, if it didn't.

He fidgeted, the answer weighing on his mind. They'd gotten the diagnosis early, when during one of his rehearsals at his local theater for his debut, he couldn't get enough air in to sing, and began coughing so badly his director demanded him to get a check up.

Thank god she did.

His twin brother, Remus, rushed into the room. At everyone's sudden glance, his face flushed as he walked over to his younger brother. Roman smirked. "That's one way to enter a room, Rem."

Remus smiled, but quickly faded with worry. "Any news yet?"

"Nope."

"Damn, they're really making us wait today. How long does it take to look at an x-ray?!"

"Pretty long, apparently."

Remus sat. He would wait until the end of time. He was not leaving his brother. Not today, and especially not now.

He can't really explain his emotions when Roman had told him about the call. It was almost like time itself stopped, and the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. Roman choked on his words halfway through, beginning to cry.

But, Remus knew what he was saying. He knew and yet he didn't want to know. He didn't want to believe it.

As he sat for a few moments, he noticed the chair next to him wobble. Roman's whole body was shaking slightly. He grabbed Roman's hand to steady him.

"Roman, you're shaking."

Roman just looked out of the window, quiet.

"Roman, talk to me." His voice was laced with concern. Where was that smiling, singing theater kid he used to know?

Roman's voice was quiet. "S-sorry, I'm just a little tired."

"Roman Sanders?"

Both pairs of eyes darted to the doctor standing by the door. Roman stood up. "Yes?"

The doctor gestured inside. "Come inside. We have a few things to go over."

Roman gripped Remus's hand as they walked. Remus remembered when Roman was so scared of heights, and he was being dragged along on his first roller coaster.

Roman was usually so tough, fighting dragons in their backyard and saving princes, but for the first time, Roman Sanders was really... scared.

Remus smiled at his brother. "Don't worry. I'll be right here."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

They sat in two chairs next to each other. The doctor got out a chart. "I am Doctor Joan, I'll be your primary team doctor." He shook both of their hands firmly.

Roman gripped Remus's hand tighter.

He cleared his throat before pulling out two X-Rays. Both were centered on his lungs. "As you can see here, this is your tumor when you were admitted- slightly smaller than a golf ball. Normal for stage three." He said, explaining the first X-Ray. Then he pulled out the second.

Both twins had their eyes glued to the doctor.

"After a week of chemo, it appears your tumor has grown by fifty percent, making you now at stage four. It's taken control of about a quarter of your left lung, and is still growing."

Roman had no words. He didn't move. He didn't speak. The fear of death loomed over him, and it seemed almost as if at any moment, it would all be over.

He looked at the ground. He couldn't look at the doctor. He couldn't look at his brother.

What he would give to be laughing and smiling with Virgil again. What he would give to see him right now.

Though, he didn't think Virgil wanted to see him. Maybe he didn't even like him.

Remus's mind whirred. No. No, he wasn't just going to give up so easily. He's seen his brother fight off monsters and warlocks and witches. He could beat this. He HAD to beat this. He won't let his brother go, not without a fight.

Remus looked at the doctor. "What can we do?"

------------

Roman was walking around the Ward when he spotted the door to Virgil’s room ajar. He yawned, the morning had sapped nearly all his energy out of him. He peeked his head in, worried for Virgil’s state from the episode this morning. Virgil was curled up, blue hospital scrubs against a white bed. He murmured in his sleep, pulling himself closer for warmth. Roman hated the way his face felt hot as a small breeze blew Virgil’s purple hair in the wind.

Wait…

What was he doing here? He quickly took a step back. The nurse will think he’s insane. Who the heck stares at someone sleeping?! He knew he only wanted to check to see how Virgil was doing, maybe even talk, but…

Roman! Snap out of it! You’re acting like a giddy, lovesick, teenager!

He shouldn’t be here. Why was he here? He turned to leave, wanting to make a mad dash for the door, but knowing it would wake him. STUPID! Why did he think it was a good idea to just stare into Virgil’s room when he’s freaking asleep like a stalker-

“Roman..?”

He froze. He hoped more than ever right then, that Virgil had a sleep talking habit.

“Roman, is that you?” Virgil rubbed his eyes, turning on a bedside light.

Roman slowly turned. “H-hey, Virge…” He said nervously.

“Roman, what are you doing in here?” Virgil asked. He yawned, energetic for the morning - er, afternoon by now.

“I...I was just checking up on you. I was really worried from this morning-”

Worried?

“-And I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a creep, I’ll go now-!” Roman’s face was flushed pink as he turned to leave.

“Wait!”

Roman stopped dead in his tracks. Either he was going to be yelled at by his crush for staring while he slept, or he was going to be screamed at by his crush for his pathetic explanation. He closed his eyes tight, not wanting to see Virgil’s face, even though his back was to him. He hated him, he just knew it-

“I don’t want you to go.”

“W-what…?” Roman asked.

“Well...y-yeah…” Virgil was blushing now. “I haven’t seen you all day, and I just wanted to talk.”

Roman was bright red, trying to keep his cool. “Y-yeah...I...I’d like that.”

---------

The wind blew their hair in all directions as they opened the door to the roof. Virgil smiled. The wind was almost comforting to him, and he started to walk toward the edge, sitting down and looking at the skyline as the sun lowered into the buildings, the sky turning a pale yellow and pink.

"What are we doing up here?" Roman asked, looking around. "I didn't even know we were allowed up here."

"We aren't usually, but I know a guy." Virgil bit his lip, still a but nervous. "Sit, Princey." Virgil patted the space next to him. Roman was hesitant, but slowly sat down next to him.

The wind slowed as the sun began to melt into the buildings, it's bright hue emerging between the small spaces between the skyscrapers. Virgil breathed deeply, his nose tube gone, as he let the wind whip his hair. He paused a moment before breaking the silence. "This is my favorite place in the hospital. I...I come up here when I just need, well… an escape."

Roman was quiet, this events of his day weighing on his mind. "I was worried about you, you know."

Virgil sighed. "I...I know." He bit his tongue.

You shouldn't have to.

Roman looked at Virgil, his face as mix of concern, as if thinking deeply about something. He looked like he wanted to say something, yet his mouth remained shut.

"Are...are you okay?"

Virgil tensed. He shut his eyes, trying not to think about him, god why was he thinking about HIM?! He slowly opened his eyes, forcing a smile. "I'm fine, Princey. Just...a lot on my mind, you know."

"Do you..wanna talk about it?" Virgil's eyes screwed shut again. Roman quickly replied, sensing the tension. "Y-you don't have t-to-!"

“N-no…” Virgil said, his voice shaking. “It’s okay.” His hand inched towards Roman’s without him realizing it, his heart ached for some kind of comfort. “I...that is, the reason f-for this morning…”

“Yes..?”

“I...I have a parasite.” Virgil said, looking away from Roman, below, at the thousands of people coming and going, always in a hurry. “It’s not contagious, but the doctors are running out of options. They say I may not have long to live.”

“O-oh.” Roman said. “W-well, if anyone knows what that’s like, it would be me.”

Virgil’s ears perked up, and he turned to face him. “How so?”

“I..u-um…” Roman Prince has never been this nervous in his life. He didn’t know how Virgil would react, after all, he barely knew him, yet he felt like he’d known him forever. It was a strange feeling to him. Would Virgil pity him? Would him telling Virgil ruin the way Virgil sees him?

Virgil’s hand quickly, subconsiously, grabbed Roman’s for comfort. “Hey, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay. Everything is okay.”

“L-lung cancer. Stage four. The tumor’s been growing rapidly.” Roman sighed. “I don’t know how much time I have left. It could be tommorrow, or a month from now.”

Stunned silence passed between the two.

“Well, if that’s the case Princey, let’s make today count.” Virgil smiled, making Roman’s heart skip a beat.

Virgil leaned close to Roman, their hands intertwined, as the stars sparkled in the night sky, the city below them flickering to life. Virgil’s warmth flooded his body as they sat there, the future scary, but sometimes, having someone to hold onto when your world is crumbling to the ground, can make it a little less freightening.

[i-can-get-extra-with-my-ships]

Interrupted By The Storm

Ok. The anticipation is over. My first official one-shot is here! I tried and think I did pretty darn good. Other than the name. The name is shit. No longer. It is no longer shit. @sanderssides-incorrectquotes came up with a good name that I have permission to use.

Ship: Romantic Prinxiety (Resident trash fiend over here)

tw: 5-6 curse words (Including the A/N). Thunderstorms. Roman screaming. Fourth wall breaks. Crappy humor. Decent writing. Fluff.

----------------

It was a nice summer day. Not too hot, or humid. Just perfect. Perfect for sitting outside on the deck with your boyfriend. Virgil and Roman knew this. They’d been sitting on the swing for hours at this point. Just talking and enjoying each other’s company.

“We should do this more often” Virgil stated staring nowhere in particular.

“And which one of us was screeching ‘DON’T FORCE ME TO GO OUTSIDE!! THE DEATH STAR CAN AND WILL KILL ME!!!’ before we came outside this morning?” Roman teased his boyfriend playfully.

“Shut up” Virgil mumbled into Roman’s chest.

Roman had closed his eyes and was enjoying the sounds of the birds chirping. Until there was a bright flash of light followed by a loud boom from over the horizon. Then came the pitter-patter of rain. 

The thunder had, to say the least, scared the shit out of him. He sat gay up (He can’t sit stright up. He’s gay.) and looked at Virgil. He looked... calm? How the fuck? Roman wondered.

“Do you wanna go inside or...” Virgil asked as if on cue. His voice trailing off.

“Do you wanna go inside?” Roman replyed.

“I would love to stay out here if you don’t mind. I mean we won’t get wet.”

I mean... he’s not wrong. We won’t get wet. You know I kinda wish that there wasn’t that bit of roof right there. Roman thought, weighing his options. But if we stay outside then he’ll realize how much of a wuss you actually are. If we stayed outside it would make Virgil happy. I mean when was the last time he looked this calm? He argued with himself, but he had a point, staying outside would make Virgil happy and even when he was relaxed Virgil still had the slightest bit of an aura of fear around him. But now, he was totally calm. And extremely happy. It was adorable. He decided to tough it out and stay where they were, for Virgil’s sake.

“We can stay out here,” Roman said as nonchalantly as possible.

Virgil must’ve not picked up on the slightest bit of panic in the prince’s voice. He simply hummed in response resting his head on the others shoulder and intertwining their fingers.

That helps. Roman thought right before there was another loud boom from the sky. He tensed up. Hoping and praying that Virgil wouldn’t notice. However. Despite his best efforts. The anxious trail noticed.

“Roman. Are you scared of thunderstorms?” he inquired, a signature smirk lay on his face.

“What? Pfft. No. Me? Prince Roman? Scared of- AHHHHHH!!!” At that moment another loud boom filled the sky... until Roman’s shrill screams of terror overpowered it.

“Pfft! I can’t believe it! Roman Princey Prince Creativity Sanders is scared of thunderstorms!!!’ Virgil laughed hysterically to the point that Roman thought he would fall off the swing they were sitting on.

“It’s not funny!!” Roman mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for the other to hear.

“Aww! Ro!” the emo started. “I’m not laughing because it’s funny. It is funny as hell tho. I’m laughing because the like one thing I find comforting is the one thing you’re deathly afraid of.”

“I’m not deathly afr- AHHHH!!!” The prince was cut off once more by the angry cackles from the sky.

“And your scream is funny as fuck soo... like how can I not laugh?”

Roman didn’t know what to say so he just crossed his arms over his chest and pouted like a 5-year-old. Virgil found this adorable. At the same time, he was starting to feel bad for what he said, even though he knew that the pouting was just his boyfriend being a drama queen.

“You wanna go inside?” Virgil asked once more.

“Well, yes, but also no.” the fanciful side responded.

“Care to explain?”

“Well,” Roman began. “I do want to go inside, but I don’t want to leave you alone or cause you to miss out on this. And your really cute when you're relaxed like this. Also, I don’t think I’ll be able to get up, and you can’t carry me so I’m stuck out here either way.” Roman sputtered quickly. He was just fast enough to not get cut off by the thunder. Once the loud crack was released he winced.

Virgil laughed again. “Well, I guess I can help you not be as scared. If you want,” he added on that last bit quickly.

Roman only nodded. At this point, he’d gotten the hint that the author didn’t want him to speak. Which wasn’t true. She just thought that Roman’s scream was funny as hell and wanted to think about it. the universe wasn’t going to let him talk. There was another shout from the sky. He tensed up even more than he already was.

The author is not having it today is she? Roman wondered. To that, the author responded. “No shit Sherlock. But that’s not it. I need thunder and this is a fun little gimmick.

Virgil leaned onto Roman again. Then he grabbed one of the prince’s arms and wrapped it around his torso. He once more rested his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder and intertwined their fingers once more.

“Does this help?” He questioned once he fished setting up their cuddles.

“We shall-” Roman was cut off for the 80th time yet another time. There was no scream. Just a slight build in tension that was released as soon as it came.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Virgil smirked. He knew that Roman hated needing help. He took it, but would much rather do it on his own.

“That it did, storm cloud. Thank-” Roman was cut off yet again. Not by the thunder this time. But by a soft pair of lips against his.

------------------

Another A/N because I say so. Umm. Yeah. That was the one-shot. It actually wasn't my original idea but that idea, I can guarantee you, has been done dozens of times. This hasn’t been done before. At least I don’t think so. Don’t die children. Death is bad for you.

                               -Em

[felineevil]

The worms remember Mallory Westbrook

(Tw for general horror, death and violence. And bugs.) This was just an attempt at writing out a new oc, but i havent written properly in ages soooo aksjdjdjsjsksm

It had happened so long ago, nearly nobody knew it as more than folklore- the tragedy now nothing more than an urban myth to scare children, no mourners left to weep for what had really happened.

It had become twisted, warped over the years- we all yearn for a scarier, more brutal story, enough so that the truth becomes buried under speculation and embellishment.

First they said she'd eaten someones dog, then soon it changed to somebody's baby- every new person telling the tale adding a new, more shocking reason for the violence that had been enacted.

Nobody could blame them, they didn't know the truth to their myth, but perhaps the first to tell it had other motives for changing it- perhaps they needed to make it more palatable on their own consciousness than the truth.

Because one could forgive the terrible, terrible things that happened that night if it had been to protect the community, surely?

But of course, like most the story, it was all lies.

The story started, in it's newest incarnation, on a still summer evening in the small, peaceful village community- life as normal rolling on at it's meandering pace.

Everybody knew everybody here and gave a smile and a 'hello' as they passed on the street, going to and fro about their business.

Little Toby Gunsen was the cheeriest villager to walk the street that day, skipping passed the butchers with a gleeful wave to all inside, stopping to smell the beautiful flowers at the florists- the very image of childhood innocence.

As he skipped and pranced his way onwards nobody thought to ask him where he was going, nobody thought it'd ever be important- but as the young boy reached the villages edge, how could anyone have known that would be the last they'd ever see of him alive?

Outside the village lay a vast forest, it's oppressive darkness matched in uneasiness only by it's eerie maze-like nature- but that did not bother the boy.

Despite parent's warnings against it the village children still came to play here, darting between thick, dark trees in their innocent games- not a fear in the world.

But there was one place even the children would not venture.

In the middle of the deep woods lay a small clearing, and in that clearing sat an old, rotting cabin- it's ghostly creaks and moans heard late at night sometimes as the wind blew through it.

The witch who resided inside was talk of the village come halloween, the only day she could be seen away from her cabin- wandering the village streets, cowled in black.

She never spoke nor looked a soul in the eye, just walked in a sombre pace to the church graveyard- bundles of little wooden dolls in her arms.

Curses, for sure, the people said- or talismans to raise the dead.

Either way she was no good.

But it seemed as little Toby played and ran fate had dark plans for him and the witches path to meet, for the maze of tree's soon lead him straight into the dark clearing- where not a bird nor bug could be heard.

It was still there, as if time had stopped and the only living things present being Toby and the tall figure of the witch, standing in her doorway- beckoning him close.

That night Toby did not return home, nor the morning after- his parent's panic building as it became clear their precious son was missing.

A search party set out and soon found a scrap of his woollen jacket on the forests fence, dread setting in as all began to suspect what had befallen the poor boy.

It seemed like they trekked for days amongst the tree's, dark magics turning them about and confusing them as they called out his name- fearing the worst.

Their fears were only strengthened with the discovery of a small, wooden doll carved in the likeness of Toby.

The witch had him, that was for sure.

By next nightfall they retreated, it was too dark to carry on.

The next day the villagers returned in strength, spurred on with rage.

Flaming torches and weapons in hand they returned, marching with determination and slicing through the undergrowth that blocked their path.

By the time they reached the cabin all hope had vanished from their hearts.

It was here that they saw her, standing as still as a statue with her head craned back to stare at the sky, arms outstretched- her body clad in a soft, silken gown that flowed in the slow breeze, soaked in rich red blood.

It dripped from her long, claw-like fingernails and dropped onto the sodden earth below, the villagers stomachs turning as their gaze fell behind the foul witch.

Screams of horror rang out, Toby's parents fell to the ground in grief- for there, barely recognisable as anything more than a hanging slab of meat at the butchers, was there son.

Skinned, eviscerated, but undeniably his frail form.

The villagers wasted no time in exacting justice, they tied the witch to the nearest gnarled tree and made her watch as they burnt her cabin to the ground, cursing her name as the flames roared on.

The witch never struggled once against her tight bonds, simply watching with blank coldness as they approached- torches and knives in hand.

By the time they were finished there was barely a recognisable corpse, just a burnt, mangled body that had long stopped twitching, held up only by the scorched tree.

They buried her remains then and there, spitting on her crude grave and destroying what was left of her belongings in the smouldering bonfire that was once her house.

Toby was buried at the church yard, his family's grief would never end- the terror of their sons last day haunting their every moment.

And, on every halloween a reminder would come knocking, a cold, chilling ghost from the past- for every grave in the churchyard would be found with a little, crude wooden doll placed upon it with no explanation.

Except for Toby's.

On his grave, every year without fail, would be a pig's head- freshly butchered.

Now, while this story might chill you it must be noted that nearly nothing is true- there was no Toby Gunsen or any murder at all, but the truth would be much harder for those involved to stomach.

There was a village surrounded by a forest, and in that forest there was a cabin- but the lady who lived inside was no witch, her name was Mallory Westbrook and she was the daughter of the vicar's son.

Mallory was a sweet and gentle soul, born mute and, in the words of the vicar, 'unusual' she had been hidden away- some suspected her to be cursed, disfigured, but that was fine by the vicar.

The more they speculated the less anyone suspected the truth, that Mallory was the child born of his illicit affair with one of his flock- a truth that would ruin his standing forever.

Mallory grew up isolated and unsocialised, once old enough to leave the vicar's home and wander the village she was treated to stares and gossip- nobody had a kind word to say about the pale, frail young woman.

Children started whispering that she was a witch, a vampire even- Mallory never responded to their mockery or taunts, not once defending herself from the village's cruelness.

After the vicar's passing Mallory moved into the woods, hiding herself away from those who seemed to hate her- this seemed a solution for quite some time, Mallory left the village alone and the villagers returned the favour.

That was, until Bobby Mcgorin.

Bobby was a mean, mean man with a temper as hot as a branding iron, though usually that temper was directed towards his wife.

He drank like there was no tomorrow and thought himself king of the world, ruler,of the roost and top dog in the village's quiet community.

It had been a baking summers day when Bobby decided to cause the single greatest dark act the village had ever seen and nobody really ever knew why, there was speculation he'd tried it on with Mallory and she'd pushed him away- or that he found her tending to his wife's wounds after she'd ran away one night.

But no matter the reason, if there even was one, what Bobby did was unspeakable.

He waited for night to fall before making his way into the woods, easily following the trail up to the small cabin in no time.

He broke in, beat Mallory senseless with no resistance and, once she lay unconscious, twitching in a pool of her own blood, he torched her cabin with her inside.

The flames could be seen for miles around as the fire spread to the nearby trees, Bobby staying for some time to watch- perhaps to make sure Mallory didn't escape.

She never even screamed or struggled, simply looked at her murderer with solemn eyes- Mallory died in a violent act of injustice that night and not a single soul mourned her.

She was different, not a part of the village and uncared for by anyone in it's community- the rumours soon started that she'd deserved it somehow, that she was a witch, that she'd cursed Bobby's wife and he'd simply been breaking it.

Mallory's body was buried under the ashes of her home, with not even a headstone to mark her place- the blackened tree's the only sign of what horror had befallen her.

Bobby walked free and Mallory became just a folklore story passed down by campfires, nobody to mourn her violent passing- nobody to stand up for her spirit.

It was not the last time Bobby acted in such a gruesome manner, and the next time he would be brought to justice- the murder of his wife not flying so easily by the village community, but never were charges mentioned for poor, forgotten Mallory.

She simply lay in the ground, rotting as worms squirmed through her eye sockets and beetles devoured her flesh- her frail form now nothing but a mass of insect life, feasting on her remains.

But perhaps insects can taste violence when they strip flesh from bone, perhaps they saw the spirit of Mallory rotting in her skull- maybe the anger of injustice that should've come from the villagers instead echoed through the ground, the earth itself mourning the loss of such an innocent life.

Because, many years later, as Bobby lay in a jail cell something quite unexplained happened.

Other inmates sounded the alarm, reacting in horror to the sound of howling shrieks echoing through the night- the sound of a man screaming for help, begging to be spared.

The guards couldn't get there in time, they found him slumped in a corner in a state unlike they'd seen before- bile built in their throats as the impossible scenario sat glaringly real and present.

Bobby's dead body, limbs twisted and frozen in a horrific tangle, fear still on his face- his mouth hinged wide open, filled with dirt and squirming worms, and his stomach gutted wide open.

The contents of his stomach spilled onto the floor and the blood almost filled the space, lapping against the guards boots as they stood in terrified silence.

There was no sign of entry, but how could Bobby have done this to himself?

All the evidence there was were two, ashen footprints and an ungodly amount of insects manifesting along the cell walls.

Nobody ever really knew what happened to Bobby, the official report was chalked up to suicide and hidden away as best as possible- but people gossip, as they always do and rumours began that the witch had returned for revenge.

I would like to say they were completely wrong, after all there was never any witch, but something happened to Mallory as she lay in the ground all those years- something whispered to her, a million tiny voices from those who'd seen the death of millions, who'd feasted on the flesh of the innocent more times than they could count.

They filled her every cavity and replaced her organs with their writhing bodies, reanimating her as a godless corpse- rotted and decayed but somehow now living once more, not undead but something entirely new.

When they feasted on her brain they must've listened, remembered, absorbed more than just nutrients- for Mallory was more than just a puppet, her mind while absent physically lived on in that putrid shell in the mind of a million others, their pulsing forms replacing her soft matter.

She dug her way out of the grave she'd sat in for years, stumbled into the village and began searching for what she needed.

Her body was loose, just a mass of bugs surrounding a skeleton, she needed a shell- an exoskeleton, something to contain her so she would not spill across the ground.

A biker's leathers were what she settled on, fitted to the squirming mass of her new form it held her together perfectly- It did not matter that it was bigger than her tiny frame, for she could simply fill it with her multitudes, changing her own silhouette to match the much taller, broader one she'd acquired.

Her new second skin was beautiful, jet black and tough- hiding the decay of her body so wonderfully, she could almost forget what she was.

The helmet hid her face and she finally felt complete, the worms and centipedes stretching out to fill the cavities of the space and letting her breath- for the first time since she'd hit the ground so long ago.

It had been easy from there on to reach the prison, the worms spoke to the earth and the earth told Mallory where to go- the cockroaches in her throat hissing in anticipation as she travelled to find the man who'd desecrated and destroyed her first body.

Mallory had unfortunately needed to abandon her new skin for a moment, just long enough to commit the deed she'd been reborn for- she couldn't just wander into a prison afterall, so she squirmed out of the leather and let her body separate, becoming nothing but a writhing mass of tiny living things as they swarmed onwards, Mallory's mind spread out amongst them all.

It would be over soon, Bobby could never hurt anyone again- he'd never get out and he'd never turn his hand to another woman, no-one like her or his wife.

Mallory could be at peace.

Bobby had been asleep when it happened, a thin black worm falling onto his face waking him his nightmares- had he been dreaming of her? Had he sensed her?

His eyes snapped open and he brushed the bug off him with a tired confusion, settling back down to go back to sleep.

Squelch.

Another worm, a fatter one.

Bobby jerked awake again, shaking his head free of the slimy thing- watching it squirm across his bedclothes.

Before he could lay back down another fell upon his shoulder, then another, soon a whole cascade tumbled onto him from above- Bobby let out a shriek and stared up, his screams only growing louder and more frantic as he saw her.

There, like a smear across the ceiling, was a pulsing mass of insects with a single, fetid skull in the centre- as Bobby howled and shrieked the worms took form across the skull, moving like tendons and muscle forming as it leaned closer to him.  

Mallory smiled, maggots spilling from her form as she reached out to Bobby- the stench of dirt and death the last thing he had time to register, before nightmarish revenge was enacted.

Mallory was not a violent nor cruel person, but the insects of the ground had only ever known death and decay, they saw not a living and precious life but simply a corpse that had yet to drop- and they knew where all the softest, best flesh lay hidden inside.

The coroner's who examined Bobby's corpse said he decayed at a faster rate than they'd ever seen, his body constantly full with ravenous maggots and beetles- by the time he reached his grave there was barely anything left of him.

After the act of revenge had been fulfilled one might expect Mallory to have fallen apart, returned to a lifeless corpse now her purpose was gone- but no, Mallory wasn't ready to go.

She wanted to live, something she'd not managed to do even when she was alive.

She crawled back into her new second skin, zipped herself up and placed the helmet on, letting the many wriggling parts of her form ease into the shape she would now inhabit- Mallory was long dead, but this new body was filled with millions of tiny lives.

She was animated, conscious, free.

And so Mallory walked on into the night as something entirely new, not as a monster hell bent on murdering more, but as a lost woman now free to see the world as she never had before.

Many people have mentioned seeing an unusual biker arrive at their cafe's and shops along the roads, never taking off their helmet or talking- just buying flowers snd trinkets and disappearing off into the world, usually never to be seen twice.

Some say they spot the leather clad figure at their houses, tending to their gardens or simply wandering peacefully- it seems most sense something macabre from the mysterious visitor and leave them be, probably a wise choice.

Those worms do get hungry afterall, and one wouldn't want to see Mallory have to defend herself..

But perhaps if one day you find your senses twinged by the smell of death and dirt, or the sound of a cockroaches hiss, you will turn to see that leather clad figure standing nearby, and perhaps you'll offer her a smile and a kind hello- you won't see the worms turn and twist into a mimicked grin, nor understand the clicks and hisses as a response, but Mallory will appreciate the kindness.

And if ever you find yourself threatening by a man with dark intentions, i'm sure Mallory will remember you and you'll find that man no longer bothers you again.

You'll find your gardens soil unusually rich with nutrients and healthy worms afterwards i'm sure, perfect for whatever you wish to grow- perhaps leave a few carrots out the front of the house, she might come by to pick them up.

[angstfactory]

Old Secrets

TIME: April 11th, 2022 PLACE: Bar + Colton’s apartment PLAYERS: Noah Mitchell & Colton James ( @a-small-drop-in-a-big-pond ) TW: Injury, assault, claustrophobia, ptsd, death talk, idiot boys

It wasn't exactly an accident that Noah wound up at this bar tonight... The one that resided so close to a certain someone's hospital, where they worked. A smart part of him though maybe there was an off chance he might just 'happen' to bump into them and he could easily play that off since why would it be strange for anyone to visit a bar, right? Free world and all... After about an hour or so of covertly surveying the area, starting his fifth drink, and still not seeing him, Noah started to give up. That's when some burly guy plopped down at the stool next to him and began chatting. He could tell this guy considered himself one of those bears in the gay community and apparently thought Noah was right up his alley-- funny how just the other night he was saying nobody ever noticed him and this guy had somehow gotten his arm around the back of his chair and leaned in so close, Noah could smell the vodka on him. It wasn't really the attention he wanted-- well, not from the person he wanted, but it felt nice to feel noticed. Maybe this was why Colton craved attention so much, it could give one a big head if they let it.

Colton had just finished work for the night and decided to head to the bar for a drink. Thanks too the wolf, he couldn't get drunk but he could still enjoy the taste. Colton pushed the door open, and stepped into the bar. He glanced around the place, noticing the crowd. Small, but mostly regulars. Colton undid his jacket as he made his way too the bar and sat down on the stool. Colton smiled at the bartender and ordered a drink, before he looked back around the bar again. He frowned a little as he noticed a familiar face sitting next to a burly man. Colton glared a little as he  saw the guy place his arm around Noah, Colton looked back at the bar tender and grabbed his drink, before he looked back at Noah, watching him. Not willing to approach the other yet, he didn't seem to be in danger. at the moment

Distracted by the other man, Noah completely missed when the person he had been waiting for this entire time actually did come in and take a seat down the bar. He made a show of finishing up his drink and declined the offer of a fresh one from the guy, making up an excuse about how he had an early start in the morning. He broke away from the other quickly, before anything more could be said, and started for the door.

Colton watched Noah, taking a sip of his drink before he placed his glass down. Colton shifted when he saw Noah get up and head for the door. Colton frowned when he noticed the other also move, as if he was about to get up. Colton stood up quickly, and crossed the room. Catching up with Noah. "Hey." Colton said softly as he wrapped his arm around Noah's waist, pulling him close. "Have you had a good day?" Colton asked as he glanced behind him, watching the guy for a moment before opened the door for Noah.

He almost thought it was the guy coming up on him like that but when he turned and saw Colton, Noah grinned from relief. There wasn't anything wrong with that guy, he just wasn't interested tonight. He didn't seem to notice how the man from before was getting a surly expression to see Noah receive this -- to him -- new guy's attention far more than his own. Enough to get up and start in their direction. But Noah was paying attention to Colton now. "Hey," he said back, almost shyly, which was unlike him but he didn't know how to really act with his friend since the other night. "It's been okay.." he followed outside. "I didn't expect to see you here." Bold lie.

Colton smiled as he stepped outside, letting the door close behind them. "Hmm." Colton said softly as he listened to Noah. "I just finished work, thought I would grab a drink before I headed home." Colton said as he looked at Noah, his hand still firm around Noah's waist.  "I don't live far from here, so its a nice walk." Colton smiled as he as he looked away from Noah. Colton's ears twitched a little as he heard the door open and close again, Colton glanced behind them. But couldn't see much due to the dark, his eyes were still learning how to adjust to the dark. Colton sighed as he guided Noah down to an alley way. "Through here, it's quicker." Colton said softly, hoping that whoever just left the bar wasn't the guy and wasn't following them.

"Oh yeah? Long day then?" He tried to sound casual but Noah finally cued into the fact that Colton had him snug to his side and he hadn't said a word about it. And honestly, he didn't mind it much, so he decided to keep quiet on it, too. But he did notice that Colt was apparently leading him off somewhere. His lips twitched. "What are you doing, eh?" He asked in a low tone that made his British accent thick, "am I just coming with you now?" But again, there didn't seem to be any resistance from Noah-- at least, not until he heard the shout of HEY! behind them. Noah stopped short and instinctively stepped in from of his friend, a thing he was used to doing since they were kids. He was always protective of Colton. "Hey mate, this isn't cool, yeah? You can't just come out following people--" Something was said about Noah and how he apparently led this guy on and who did they think they were, and the former fighter pilot reacted when the buff guy made a move like he was going to shove Colt. "Knock it off, mate!" Noah squared up and got in the other's face immediately, ready to scrap, but this dude was like three times his side and one shove practically tossed the slender kid to the ground like a rag doll.

"Not to bad, thought I better go home for some sleep for a change." Colton said with a soft laugh as he shrugged as he looked back down at Noah. "Taking you back to my place." Colton replied as if it was obvious what he was doing. "Seems like you are." Colton laughed again, he moved his fingers gently over Noah's hip. Colton was about to say something else when he heard a voice behind them. Colton watched as Noah stepped in front of him, to protect him. Like he always use too. But things were different now. "Noah." Colton said softly as he saw Noah move, getting to the male before he was tossed to the side. Colton growled as he looked at Noah before he moved towards the man. "Typically when a person leaves, it's means they aren't interested." Colton growled out as he moved forward and grabbed the man by his shirt before he shoved him, hard into the wall. Colton felt the man under him squirming, moving his arms about as he tried to fight Colton. Colton reached out for the man's wrist and gripped it tightly. Colton could feel the man's bone break under his strength. "Now how about you get out of here, before I break more than you wrist." Colton growled out as he pulled the man away and tossed him towards the opening of the alley way. Colton took a breath before he walked over to Noah and knelt down next to him. "Hey, you alright?"

Everything all happened so fast. He hit the pavement roughly and quickly scrambled to get back on his own two feet, ignoring any signs of pain because he was full of adrenaline and wanted to take care of this pushy asshole. Noah definitely took back his earlier thoughts of thinking the guy was okay. By the time he righted himself, though, Colton had basically shoved the guy halfway up the wall and he heard the sickening crunch of bones when Colt grabbed his wrist. Noah was far too much in shock at what he just saw, it took a moment to register his friend was asking if he was okay and the guy was cursing up a storm as he rushed off the opposite direction. He blinked many times, staring at Colton and taking a step back, maybe a little alarmed despite himself. "Did you just-- what the hell was that!?"

Colton stood up and ran his eyes over Noah before he frowned a little. "Uh adrenaline." Colton said as he looked over at the guy who left the alleyway in a hurry before his eyes fell back onto Noah. He took a breath before he stepped closer to Noah. "Are you alright? Not hurt?" Colton asked as he ran his eyes over Noah, checking his friend over. Colton reached out and gently took Noah's hand. "Anything I need to check over?"

He continued to stare and echoed, "Adrenaline.." Was he supposed to really believe that Colton had somehow gotten the strength of several men in order to lift a guy way larger than both of them combined? Easily over three hundred pounds. And then be able to crush his wrist like that too? He looked uncertain. Colton was military trained now, he had to remember that he wasn't the little kid that had trouble defending himself anymore. Maybe it was Adrenaline and good training. There was science about that, how people could be stronger than what they were normally capable of in high stress situations. "Huh?" He blinked again and looked down at himself, at the arm that was starting to throb a bit. "It's just scrapes," he brushed it off. His hands and arm had gotten road burn. There was a little bit of skin cracking and minor bleeding but, nothing Noah knew he couldn't handle.

Colton squeezed Noah's hand gently as he nodded his head. Not really believing Noah, but didn't push it.  "Yeah, adrenaline. It's a thing that happens." Colton shrugged as he shifted his footing slightly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "My place isn't too far from here. I can look you over better when we get there." Colton smiled softly as he ran his eyes over Noah again, spotting the blood and the scrapes. "And maybe I can cook you some dinner?"

"I guess.." he said, still not sure if he believed it, but what choice did he have? He just witnessed it. "That was pretty cool though," Noah admitted, impressed by it now that the danger of the situation had worn off. "Guess you can look after yourself now, huh?" It wasn't going to stop Noah from keeping his eye out on his friend. As they walked a few more feet, he came to a stop. "I'm not going to sleep with you, Colton," he stated bluntly, just to make things clear. "We're friends.. I care about you, and just-- if that's why you want me to come over and why you're being nice, I'm telling you now."

Colton shrugged a little as he walked with Noah. "Thanks, guess all that army training comes in handing." Colton laughed softly as he glanced at Noah. "Yeah, but as I have been told by my friends. I'm still going to need people to look out for me." Colton said remembering what Sebastian kept telling him. Colton raised an eyebrow when Noah stopped, Colton turned to him and frowned a little. "I didn't say anything about sleeping with you Noah, I offered to cook you dinner." Colton said as he sighed a little. "Do you just assume that I sleep with everyone I bring home? Because I do have a lot of friends that come over."

"Must have." Noah nodded agreement about needing people to look out for him. "Everyone does. It's nice to have backup. So.. thanks for that, back there. I could have had him," he joked, and patted Colton on the arm briefly, "but glad you were there." He could give praise when it was due, okay? "Colt, I don't know what you do -- probably? Yeah, probably. And the other night, you kissed me," he reminded him. "And we don't kiss. We've never done that."

"Oh I'm sure, after you picked yourself up. You would of had him." Colton smiled softly as he felt Noah's hand on his arm. "Maybe next time, be careful who you flirt with." Colton teased as he leaned back on the wall. He shook his head a little. "I don't sleep with every person I see Noah, I don't know where you got that idea from." Colton said as he reached out and took Noah's hand, pulling him towards Colton. "Just because I kissed you Noah, doesn't mean I want to jump in bed with you." Colton said as he moved his other hand, and placed it on Noah's hip. "At least not right away."

"He was being alright until that nonsense," Noah said with a disappointed shake of the head. "I probably would have been fine to hang out with him a little if I was up for it.. just not the night. I thought he had a nice beard." It was the truth. Said gentleman was being flirty and praiseworthy because he wanted something from Noah, he knew how the game worked. He might have played along any other day just since he was starved for attention usually. "It's from you taking almost anyone you get your eye on home with you," he said with a quiet frown. "You basically admitted the other night that you've been with someone recently. It doesn't sound like you've changed from what I remember." And here he sighed. "And it's not like you need to-- it doesn't matter, ok? That's your business, you get to live your life as you want, you're a grown man. But I'm not going to be doing any of that." As Colton suddenly jerked him forward, Noah put hands up to push back on the others chest lightly and break the contact just as easily. "What are you doing? Did you not hear me? We're friends, Colton, we've always been friends. I said I'm not going to sleep with you. We don't do that, we've never done that. I don't know what's gotten into your head but it's been this way for like, sixteen years and now you're acting like this?" Another frown. "Are you funning me?" Noah liked to think Colton wasn't a cruel person, but he couldn't help but wonder if he was messing with him because he'd let slip that he might have had a torch for the guy at one point in his life (still) or he pitied him enough to try and give him what he thought he wanted. Either way, Noah didn't want that.

“He was being alright, until you walked away.” Colton said softly, before he laughed again. “You were flirting with him, because of us beard.” Colton shook his head, only his friend would flirt with someone because he liked their bears.  Colton realised an eyebrow as he listened to Noah. “God, you make me sound like a whore, willing to bend over for everyone.”  Colton said as fixed his eyes back on Noah. “Yeah, I was with someone the recently.  So what?” Colton asked, his eyebrow raises slightly as he shook his head.  “Why do you care so much that I was with someone? You did this the other day as well Noah. What’s going on?” Colton sighed before he  took  a breath. Colton frowned a little when he felt the hands on his chest, pushing him back slightly. “And I told you the other day, it’s not about sex.” Colton moved his hand and placed it on Noah’s chest, over his heart. “Is it so hard for you believe that, I like you as more than a friend?  We talked about this other day Noah. We never had to chance to really talk about this, life got in the way. “ Colton said as he shifted then around, pressing Noah into the wall softly. “I want to sleep with you, one day. Far down the road. But right now I want to just be with you, and get to know you again. Take you out on dates, cook you dinner, movies night.  Small things Noah. When it comes down too you, I don’t want to rush it.”

"Yeah, he had a nice beard," he shrugged, not seeing the problem with that. He frowned, feeling a bit guilty as Colton pointed out how he was treating him. "Well I mean-- like, I'm not saying it's a bad thing," he tried to correct himself, not wanting to make his friend feel like he was terrible, "obviously it's okay to like sex and you're a grown man, you're doing it with other consenting adults.. it's fine, just.. Not everyone is like that, okay? Some people want more than that." Noah wanted more than that. At least, where this man was concerned. He leaned in against the wall, sighing. "Yeah, it is actually. What's changed in all this time? How was life getting in the way when you were going off with all the others you thought were worth your time instead of me?" He shook his head. "You think I like you, and you're trying to placate me, you're trying to give me what you think I want, and I'm alright, Colton. I don't need all of that. I don't like you."

Colton raised an eyebrow as Noah tried to back track on what he had said. "I'm not like, I don't jump everyone I see." Colton sighed as he shifted his footing slightly. "I'm enjoy being with people, people who don't care what I look like under all this." Colton said as he gestured to his clothes. "People who aren't going to judge me or make fun of how look. Or leave the moment they see the scars because it turns them off." Colton said softly as he pressed closer to Noah. He moved his left hand, and took Noah's hand in his own. Link their fingers together as he pressed it to the wall. "We were in the middle of a War Noah, our leave didn't always match up." Colton sighed as he moved his right hand and pushed it through Noah's hair slowly. "And if I had said anything during high school, you probably would of thought I was just doing it for another notch in my bedpost. Because you have this notion that everyone I hung out with, I was sleeping with." Colton rolled his eyes slightly as he dropped his hand out of Noah's hair slightly, and played with the small wisps of hair at the base of his neck.  "I'm not try too placate anything Noah." Colton said as he leaned forward, so he was an inch from Noah's lips. "If I kiss you now, will you slap me?"

"I'm not talking about--" he immediately started to say he wasn't talking about when they were in war and couldn't see each other much. He was talking about before that, when they were just boys growing up together. But Colton cut in over him to cover that base too like he had known Noah was going to say something about it. "Then what were you doing with them?" He couldn't help but ask, because it looked like Colton was doing everything. The rumors around school were there about it too. And Colt had never seen fit to correct anyone about it. What was he supposed to believe? Noah tried to lean his head away from the other playing with his hair like that, it was too nice. Distracting. Things felt a bit like they were in a fish bowl when Colt came so close to him like that. "Absolutely not," he said quietly, pausing before he said then, "I'll punch you."

"Studying, smoking, just hanging out." Colton said as he shrugged a little as he ran his eyes over Noah. He knew about the rumors that floated around school about him, and Colton didn't care. People could think whatever they wanted of him. Colton smiled as he flicked his eyes up to Noah's for a moment before he looked back down at Noah's lips. "Well then you better punch me." Colton said softly as he moved his hand out of Noah's hair, and moved it to grip Noah's chin gently as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Noah's.

"And nothing else?" His brows came together, uncertain if he should believe the boy or not. "Why wouldn't you just tell me that?" Granted, Noah had never asked him to elaborate on his time with other friends but, he thought maybe he would have said something.. told him those rumors were just rumors. "Colt--" the warning was there in his tone, "Colton, don't be a stupid bastard--" Noah grabbed the front of his friends shirt in two fists, ready to make good on the promise... It never came. Because he didn't want to hit Colton. He did want to be kissed, kissed by him, and it was something that he had thought about for so long that he got wrapped up in the moment.  Fists unfurling so that his hands were holding onto the boys shoulders and he leaned into it, a dead giveaway that all of what he'd said before about not liking Colton and not wanting any of this were lies. Noah did get enough sanity back to break away, wetting his lips and hanging his head down and away from Colton's face, his red hair brushes his face. "If you're just messing with me," he said quietly, "I'll never talk to you again." A frown was there as he looked up. "A week ago you basically never wanted to see me again and now what? What do you want?"

"You never asked and I didn't think you were the kind of guy who would believe those rumors. After all you are my best friend." Colton said with another small sigh, shaking his head slightly at Noah.  Colton smiled as he pressed his body into Noah's, deepening the kiss more when he felt Noah kiss back. He let out a small noise when he felt Noah's hands on his shoulders.  When Noah pulled back, Colton shifted back slightly giving the other space. "I'm not messing with you, Noah. You really think I'm that kind of guy?" Colton questioned as he ran his eyes over Noah before he sighed. "A week ago, I wasn't expecting you to walk back in my life.  I wanted too see you again, but I wasn't ready. I told you that." Colton said softly as he stepped closer to Noah again. "I've always wanted to see you again. I just....didn't know how." Colton reached a hand out and cupped Noah's cheek, rubbing his thumb over Noah's cheek bone gently.

"Then we both screwed up, I don't know.. I don't know what I was supposed to think.. I guess it wasn't my business anyway." He looked away though because saying that didn't mean it hadn't affected him and that he hadn't cared about what was going on. But he couldn't say anything either because it would have ruined their friendship. He still felt like admitting to any of this would ruin it. This was all rather sudden and unexpected, he didn't know how to feel. Overwhelmed, maybe. "I didn't think you would be someone who would ditch me either and look at how that turned out," he said then, with a sudden edge in his tone. Noah wasn't going to forgive him for that so easily, he didn't care what reasons Colton had for it. "Just.." he grabbed at the boys hand to stop him touching his face like that.  "I'm trying to think."

"I guess we did. I guess sixteen year old us, wasn't good at talking huh." Colton said softly as he watched Noah, the way he turned away from him. Kept his eyes down cast.  Colton swallowed a little as he listened to Noah, he didn't want to leave Noah. "I never wanted to leave you. But after what happened and rehab." Colton sighed as he frowned a little. "This is all complicated, more complicated than you know and I don't know how to explain it all too you." Colton said as he looked at their hands, when Noah took his hand.  "Alright, then. Think all you want." Colton smiled as he ran his eyes over Noah again. "My place isn't far here, I want to show you something." Colton said as he pulled away from Noah and lead him out of the alleyway and towards his apartment.

"Maybe not," he admitted reluctantly. He used to think they had known each other so well and now he was coming to find that it wasn't really the case. "Well.. one day I hope you will find a way to tell me because I want to know. I want to be there for you, alright?" Noah gripped Colton by the back of his neck briefly to force him to meet his gaze seriously. "Alright?" He repeated, just so Colt would see he meant that. "show me what? You promised me food."

Colton looked up at Noah when the other gripped back of his neck. He smiled softly as he nodded his head. "Alright." Colton said as he reached up and squeezed Noah's arm gently. "One day I'll tell you. But right now, you will probably think I'm crazy and should be locked up." Colton pulled away from Noah. "You'll see when we get there." Colton rolled his eyes, smile still on his lips. "I'm sill going to feed you, don't worry." Colton said as he glanced at Noah. Once they got close to his place. Colton finished out his keys, entering the building. Colton lead them over to the elevator, once side Colton pressed his floor number before he leaned back on the wall.

"Ow," it was a soft and reactionary exclaim of some discomfort when Colton gave his arm a bit of a squeeze. He looked down, holding his arm in against his chest to check and see how bad the pavement burn was. Now the the adrenaline was fading off, those stings were starting to come in. "I already think that mate," he told his friend, but with a jaunty and teasing grin. "You better, my stomach is empty and you know how I get when I'm hangry." Noah followed on after Colton, though he paused before the elevator. It was such a confined space... Made him think back to the cramped quarters of a cockpit. He looked a bit uncomfortable. "Maybe we should use the stairs?"

Colton shook his head slightly as he looked over at Noah. "More crazy." Colton said with a sigh before he raised an eyebrow and laughed softly. "If you say it makes you grumpy, then I'm sorry to break it too you. You are always grumpy." Colton teased as he nudged Noah gently. Colton looked at Noah, reaching out to stop the doors from close. "I'm on the ninth floor." Colton said softly as he held his other hand out for Noah. "I'll be with you the whole time, Noah. Just breath and keep your eyes on me."

"I dunno if that's possible but I guess we'll see," he said reasonably. "I'm not grumpy," the young man claimed then with a sourpuss expression, "I just don't like to be messed with. There's a difference." Noah liked to think he was a perfectly reasonable bloke usually... "Bloody hell, why would you be up that high?" He complained, though still ready to go up nine flights if he had to. But at the same time he didn't want to appear weak in front of his friend, especially when he was looking at him that way. He could do this.. Noah wet his lips nervously and entered the Small area reluctantly, moving in instinctively closer to the other as he glanced around rapidly. His breathing kicked up in pitch as soon as he stared at the doors coming closed and clutched his hands into the fabric of his own shirt. He tried to recall the therapist's suggestions to help this boxed in and trapped feeling that pressed in at him.. count backwards from fifteen, breathe.. "It's wobbly," he couldn't help the comment but when the thing jiggled that way, it startled him.

Colton moved closer to Noah. He placed his hands gently on his friend's hips, tugging a bit closer. He knew what it was like living with PTSD and everything that came with it.  "Nope, just grumpy. But you do get this cute little pout on your face, as you try and prove you aren't grumpy." Colton smiled as he moved his hand and gripped Noah's chin gently. Tilting Noah's face to look at Colton. "There was nothing free  on the lower floors." Colton said softly as he moved his other hand and pushed it through Noah's gently. "Hey, look at me." Colton said softly as he ran his eyes over his friend. "I know, this isn't the best idea for you. But taking the stairs would aggravate your injuries. " Colton said, keeping his voice soft and calm. He glanced at the numbers before he looked back to Noah. "Almost there, won't be long. Just breath."

It was just like when they were younger, almost. Colton had always been a touchy feely person and liked to cuddle all the time. But now Noah wondered if there had been reason behind it.. like if he had really been blind to the boy always wanting hands on him in some fashion. "I don't pout either," he muttered, with exactly the kind of pout Colt just referenced. He did look up when the other encouraged him to, trying to focus more on his friend and not the fact that the doors were kinda rattling. "I just prefer-- bigger elevators.." or none at all, actually. He even had some trouble with bathroom stalls, unless he could use the handicapped ones. Sometimes it wasn't that bad, if there were several clear exists and ways out of the stall. "I'm okay.." just uncomfortable.

Colton smiled as he moved his thumb and ran it over Noah’s bottom lip gently. “That’s the pout.” Colton said softly, as he stopped moving his thumb, just pressing it softly to his bottom lip.  Colton shifted slightly, as he dropped his hand off of Noah’s chin completely and placed it back on Noah’s hip, his left hand still carding through Noah’s hair.  “Yeah, it’s not the best. I know.” Colton said as he frowned a little, as he looked back at the numbers. “Just a few more floors.” Colton said as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Noah’s forehead. “You are doing so good.”

Colton was certainly doing a great job of distracting the young man, because he couldn't quite think straight when he was caressing his bottom lip that way. Or staring at him like that. Had Colton always looked at him this way? Surely not, he would have seen it.. he had been watching his friend all the time, he would have noticed? "Finally," his gaze broke away when the sound dinged and the doors opened, Noah grabbing Colton by the shirt and physically hauling him out of the elevator quickly. "I don't think I'll be able to fly again," he admitted, the news clearly something that bummed him. "My plane got shot down and I was crushed in the cockpit for several hours.. felt like I couldn't breathe. And it was pitch dark too, so every sound was just--" Colton would get it. That was the day he'd gotten retrieved and the next week, they realized he couldn't handle it as a fighter pilot anymore.

Colton let out a small noise when Noah grabbed his shirt, and pulled him out of the elevator. “We made it.” Colton smiled as he took Noah’s hand and lead him towards his apartment. “What?” Colton asked softly as he looked over at Noah as he fished his keys out of his pocket. He pushed the key into the lock and unlocked his door. Pushing it open, but not quite stepping in as he listened to Noah. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Colton frowned again, looking at this friend.  Colton knew what it was like, being caught in a situation and not knowing if you were going to come out of it. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t there for you.”

now that they were out of that damned elevator, Noah's stomach stopped churning and he quickly regained most of his senses. He followed the other, pausing when Colton did. "Colt, what are you talking about?" He looked at him like he was silly. "How would you have been there for me? We were in different departments entirely." He took it as if Colton meant literally not there for it, overlooking that his friend might mean something deeper than that. Like there for him emotionally, as support.

Colton walked into his apartment, taking a money to listen for Dan, but couldn’t pick him up. Which meant he was out somewhere either work or with Walter. Colton dropped his keys in the bowl. “Come in.” Colton said as pulled his coat off, dropping on a chair. “I should of been there, any way I could of.” Colton stepped into the kitchen and over to pantry. “When did this happen? How long have you been out  for?”

He wandered into the apartment as well, curiously looking around to see how the other decorated as an adult. Because of their service and the separation, he hadn't had much experience in getting to see Colton in his own element as a full blown adult male out on his own. "Last January," he informed, starting to roam the apartment on his own and touching all the things he saw.

Colton could hear Noah walking around the apartment. “Dan did all of the decorating.” Colton said as he grabbed out some pasta, before he moved to grab a pot out. “Before he moved in, I kept it very minimal.” Colton moved about the kitchen as he got everything ready to make dinner. “Hmm.” Colton said softly as he shifted to watch Noah for a moment. “I’m sorry Noah.”

He froze with his hands on some pricy looking case. "Dan?" Noah frowned to himself as he put it down with little regard. It chinked loudly. "Who's Dan?" Did Colton have a partner? A boyfriend? Or worse yet, a husband!? Noah hadn't even thought to look for a ring. Facing the other, he put his hands behind his back like he didn't just get caught touching everything. "It's okay, it happens to most guys that serve.. most of us come back changed in some way. I got off lucky." Especially if Colton's story about dying and being saved from the brink of death was true.

Colton raised an eyebrow but smirked a little at Noah’s reaction to the other man’s name. “He’s my flatmate, works at the hospital. It’s how we meet.” Colton said as he licked his lips slightly. “Now before you start over thinking there, do you think I would of kissed you if I was with someone?” Colton questioned as he went back to making the mac and cheese.. “my bedroom is the second door on the right, if you want to go poking in around there.” Colton called out, his voice teasing and playful. He knew what Noah was like, he liked to snoop. Take in new things. “If I had known. I would of come back to you Noah, I would done why I could to be there, to help you. As much as I could of.”

"Okay.." he said slowly, and couldn't help but pry, "and do you like this Dan guy? Are you guys, you know--" he made the gestures with his hands. "I don't know what you would do, Colt.." it was just as sad fact of how distance they have become. He looked over shoulder at the door his friend spoke of and immediately headed for it. "I appreciate you telling me that, I wish we could have been there for each other," he said, more distracted by wandering into the boys room.

“He’s a good friend, no we aren’t sleeping together.” Colton finished prepping dinner, leaving the pasta to boil as he stepped out of the kitchen. “I’m not a cheater. Never have been, never will.” Colton said as he watched Noah head towards his bedroom. “Guess fate had different ideas for us.” Colton said as he followed Noah, leaning on the door frame of his room. “Just don’t be weird and start rolling around in my sheets, okay.”

"Oh.. okay.. not that it matters," he muttered the last bit under breath because a part of him was still trying not to make it so evident that he did care, that it did matter to him. Why did he feel so green about this? He had gone for so long as just Colton's best friend, able to hide how he felt, and no questions were ever brought up. Now? After they hadn't seen each other in so long, everything just felt so different between them. Colton was different. He was the same but he was different and honestly, Noah could just feel it within himself. And for whatever reason he felt nervous and unsure, being here alone with him. It was difficult to understand why, too. This all felt like new, untraveled ground. Maybe that was why this felt so unsteady and unknown. "I will do what I want," he shot back, "and that includes rolling in sheets if I want." Mostly, he just wanted to antagonize his friend as he traveled about the room touching every little thing. Going through the closet, checking into the drawers. "Go away, I'm snooping," he said, gesturing for Colton to leave him be when he spotted the man watching from the doorway.

Colton hummed softly as he heard Noah mutter under his breath. He watched as Noah moved around his room, touching things in his room. Not that Colton had a lot in his room. He liked to keep things minimal, not really finding much enjoyment in clutter that came with decorating. Colton smirked as he glanced at his bed, before he looked back at Noah. "Only if I get to roll around with you as well." Colton said as he laughed when Noah looked over at him. "I can see that, and that's what worry me." Colton shifted as he stood up and shook his head. "Dinner won't be long." Colton said as he headed back into the kitchen, to finish off dinner.

Noah definitely rifled through the bag near the door, seeing that it was packed with quick essentials kind of stuff. He recognized it immediately-- it was a to go, something Colton could grab on his way out the door if he was ever in a pinch and couldn't stay to pack everything. "Just remember," Noah called out as the other disappeared to go back to the kitchen, "you're the one who invited me to look so only blame yourself, yeah?" Eventually, he was at the dresser on the other side of the bed and pulling open each drawer until he got to the last one which, oddly enough, didn't have clothes. There was a box. Plopping his bottom onto the floor, he lifted it carefully onto his lap so he could peek inside.

Once back in the kitchen, Colton got to work making a cheese sauce as the pasta cooked away.  "Yeah, Yeah I know." Colton called out with a roll of his eyes. He sighed as he moved around the kitchen, grabbing a dish before he drained the water out of the pot. Once the water was drained, Colton poured the the pasta in the dash. "I still need to check over your injuries, Noah." Colton called out as he finished putting sauce on the pasta, topped it off with cheese before he placed the dish into the oven before he walked over to his bedroom. "What have you found now, Snoopy?" Colton asked as he walked into his bedroom and saw Noah with the box.

Inside the box were several official medals, all tucked in and cared for, shiny like they had just been issued that day. But clearly not being kept anywhere they should be honored, and they were certainly medals that were to honor Colton for his service. He opened his mouth to ask about that but then he saw letters poking out from underneath them and naturally dove deeper to look those over instead. Because one said Noah on it. Actually, another did. Several! Were they all for him? He looked back at the door, holding one up. "You did write me.." he sounded surprised.

Colton stepped into bedroom and moved to sit next to Noah. "Yeah, I told you I did. Every day for two years." Colton said as he took the letter Noah was holding and turned it over his hand, reading the return address. Colton looked up at Noah and shrugged a little. "I didn't where you stationed, so I didn't know where to send them." Colton turned the envelope over in his hand. "Then I just decided not to send them, they never told where you were so what was the point." Colton sighed before he smiled softly. "But I liked writing to you, even if I knew you were never going to read them. It just helped me, you know. To feel like you were still close by, still listening to whatever I talked about. "

"That's a long time.." his features darkened a bit, guilty and sad. "I didn't write you." That wasn't actually true. He had written Colton-- once, about halfway into those three years of absolute silence and uncertainty. He still had the crumpled up piece of paper somewhere, with a bunch of different lines scratched out and rewritten and scratched out again. These sentences would usually start with 'I hate' and then Noah ranted about what he was angry about with Colton. One day it was his clothes, another it was how his eyes were too pretty, or one about that stupid crooked smile. All crossed out. It ended with something simple, just a hasty scribble of 'I love you actually'. But of course he wasn't going to send that, alright? And it was nothing compared to the lengthy one he just happened to rip into next. It was far different than the others he scanned. This one had a heavy tone, one that said the writer didn't expect to come out of this. Noah poured over it intently and quietly, the piece of paper almost pressed to his nose. He read it three times, before finally looking up at the young man that had taken up spot beside him on the floor. "Did you mean this?" He asked, waving the paper. "Or was it just because you thought you weren't going to make it.." Which, still, wouldn't it be the same difference? People often said what they were always wanting to say when they didn't think they were going to make it.

"I wouldn't expect you too." Colton said softly as he watched Noah open the letters. He wasn't going to stop him, they were after all his letter. Even if they were never mailed to him. "I wouldn't expect anything after I just up and vanished for three years." Colton said, voice quite as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment before he looked back to Noah.  Colton moved a hand and pushed it through Noah's hair gently. "Does it matter?" Colton asked as he ran his eyes over his friend. "I've already told you, in person when we in the alley and you still don't seem to believe me, so does reading a death bed confession make any difference?" Colton asked before he shifted and stood up. "I don't know what more to tell you Noah." Colton said sadly as he shrugged before he headed towards the door of his bedroom, needing to checking dinner.

He frowned. "I guess not."  Noah moved his head away from the hair petting, looking back down at the letter and carefully putting everything back the way it was as he just let the other leave to tend to whatever was going on in the kitchen. He had enough of snooping for one night. With a quiet sigh, he got back to his feet and left the room, being sure to close the door and everything. "I think I'm not hungry anymore, actually," he said, "sorry. I'll just talk to you later, okay? I don't think I'm going to keel over from a few scratches so.."

Colton looked over at Noah as he heard the footsteps and the door closing. Colton looked back to the oven and pulled out the mac and cheese, placing it on the bench. "What do you want me to say Noah?" Colton asked as he looked back at his friend. "If you want to leave, you can." Colton said as he looked over at the door before he sighed softly. "I don't think, anything I say right now will change your mind anyhow. Right?"

He said nothing because he didn't know what he expected the other to say himself. It just-- this was a lot to take in and none of it felt real. This wasn't really the way he imagined anything to go, if there was ever a Big Day where they confessed feelings for each other and everything would be perfect from then on. "I'll see you." Noah didn't even look over at him, he just went through the door and let it slam behind him. Not really angry at Colton but more at himself. He passed the elevator for the stairs because no, he wasn't riding down in that thing.

[roseonhissleeve]

Ache

REQUEST: so i know you're not taking requests, but i would die die die and love love love a fic with harry as a med student who realizes he's in love with his best friends little sister (and they've all grown up their whole lives together really close) super specific i know, but we all have those tropes that we love haha

A/N: Kind of changed this around, I hope that’s okay! I might do another part to this eventually if there’s interest. All the love. xx

TW: cancer death. 

You and Harry were never really all that close growing up.

You only knew him as your brother’s best friend. Granted, you thought that he was great— he had come over to enough family dinners and holidays for you to know that he was incredibly funny, and extremely talented. He was there at the dinner table when you announced that you were going to med school. He was there when you came back for Christmas and Thanksgiving, and even occasionally when you skyped your brother from college. He was more family member than anything, even though you two had never really had that deep of a connection.

You never expected him to be the one that was there for you on that day.

It was on the fourth day of your internship in the surgical wing. You’d been up for about forty-six hours, with a few cat naps here and there and more cups of coffee than you could remember. And you lived for it— you lived for the rush of running down hospital wings, you lived for the look on a loved one’s face when they were told that the patient would make a full recovery. You loved the puzzle, the riddle, everything about the game.

Until you didn’t.

He was nine years old. The little boy with brain cancer was nine years old.

You first checked up on him during your morning rounds. His BP was low, and his test results left much to be desired. He was asleep when you walked into the room— the heart monitor beeped constantly as you checked his vitals, mulling about the space as quietly as you could. Nico, the clipboard stated as his name, and you went about your business and slipped out of the room to let him sleep. You remember thinking it was odd that he didn’t have any parent there.

The second time you checked up on him was three hours later. You caught a glance at him when you walked by his doorway— he was sitting up in bed, the bags in his eyes as dark as you could imagine. Nevertheless he was playing with a toy truck, his food sitting on the tray next to his bed.

You knocked on the door lightly, a smile coloring your lips.

“Hey, buddy,” you said, watching as he looked up in your direction.

“Hi,” he croaked, his voice weaker than you expected. It took you back for a second, and you took a few steps into the room before speaking again.

“What’s your name?” You asked, despite knowing it already.

“Nico,” he replied, his blue eyes big and captivating. His skin was pale and gleaming with sweat, but his eyes were filled with more life than ever.

“Nice to meet you, my name’s Y/N. Is it okay if I check your vitals?” You asked. He nodded softly, turning his attention back to his truck, and you milled about the room doing your work gently. He barely flinched when you put the stethoscope to his back, and you realized that he must have been here for a while.

“Where are your parents, Nico?” You asked, adjusting the stethoscope around your neck as you glanced up at the monitors, looking for any irregular numbers.

“Mom’s at work,” he admitted, and the way he said it made you realize that dad wasn’t in the picture. “She comes whenever she can, but she doesn’t have a lot of time to catch the train between her jobs.”

You swallowed thickly, immediately regretting asking the question. You forced a smile on your face as you looked at his thin features, making a mental note to come check back in on him later.

“I’ll bring you a pudding cup next time, okay? What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Chocolate,” he said with a thin grin, his top tooth missing.

“Chocolate it is,” you confirmed, shooting him a wink before turning around and leaving to continue your rounds.

The next time you walked past his door, there was a chocolate pudding cup in your pocket.

And there were five doctors in the room.

“There must be something we can do…”

“This poor kid’s mother is working three jobs, for Christ sakes.”

“Has someone called her?”

“I couldn’t get through to her.”

“Well try again, for fuck sakes.”

“Dr. Bell?” Your voice interrupted the slurry of physician’s words, causing everyone to glance over at you. You made eye contact with your assigned resident, swallowing thickly before speaking again. “What’s going on?”

The young woman’s lower lip trembled a little bit, and you could tell that she was fighting to hold it together. There was a look in her eyes that you hadn’t seen yet, as if this was something that she hadn’t meant for you to face so soon.

“Y/N, I…” she began, closing her eyes briefly as she tried to find the words. “The patient...Nico, well, we’re afraid his time is up. There’s...there’s nothing else we can do for him.”

The words sunk in slowly, one by one, like slowly peeling off a band-aid.

“We’re trying to contact his mother, but we know that she works long hours and has four other children but...we thought she’d want to be here to hold him,” she finished, tears in her eyes for the first time since you’d met her. You came to the conclusion that this job must never get easier.

“I’ll sit with him,” you said immediately, your voice unwavering.

“Are you...Y/N, you don’t have to— ”

“I want to,” you asserted, walking further into the room. You took a seat next to the bed as your eyes fell upon the little boys features— cold and hard, yet soft all at once. “If that’s what he needs right now, if that’s what you’re all looking for, I’ll do it.”

There was a long pause in the room as you reached to take Nico’s hand in yours, surprised at the cold sensation of it. That feeling would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“I’ll...get someone to cover the rest of your rounds,” Dr. Bell said, glancing around at the other physicians before gesturing for them to leave you and your patient alone.

You sat, and you sat, and you waited. You held his little hand in yours and rubbed it between your palms, bringing it up to your lips and blowing hot air on them in an attempt to warm him. It didn’t work, no matter how many times you did it. You ran your fingers through his hair and almost shivered at the way his unmoving body felt beneath your fingertips, the feeling like an unwanted houseguest creeping under your skin.

By the time the monitor made that slow, single, monotone beep, you felt numb.

*

Harry was just going to drop his spare house key off at his mate’s house and leave. He was going away on a trip and wanted someone to water his plants, as weird and adult as that sounded to him. So he lifted the mat and revealed the hidden key that his best friend thought would never be found by an unwelcome guest (even though it was more cliche than he could ever imagine), and he let himself in.

He whistled softly as he walked into the hallway and set his key on the counter at the end of the hall. He was about to turn around and walk back out when he heard it— the sound of someone retching, as if they were about to throw up.

“Hello?” Harry called out, furrowing his brows as he walked down towards the bathroom door. He was half expecting to see his mate, but his eyes widened when he saw that it was you.

“Y/N?” He murmured softly, lips turning downward with concern. You were still in your scrubs from your shift earlier that day, your hair pulled up in a tangled messy bun that had long since partly fallen out. Your face was pale and your entire body was shaking, your white sneakers resting against the bright pink tile of the bathroom as you held your head in your hands.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Harry cooed, immediately kneeling down on the ground in front of you. He could see it register on your features when you realized it was him— your face softened slightly and your eyes began to water all over again. You couldn’t fake it around Harry. There was something about him that made the truth spill out.

“I can’t— I can’t do it, I can’t Harry, I can’t do it anymore, I’m not made for this,” you rambled quickly, your head shaking as you covered your eyes with the palms of your hands and choked on a sob. You couldn’t get the feeling of that little boy’s cold hand out of your head, seeping in like rainwater through a wall.

“What can’t you do, love? What’s going on?” Harry asked, reaching to brush a lock of your hair behind your ear. He felt the desire in his chest to hold you so desperately, and he didn’t know where it was coming from.

You told him everything. Between the sobs and the hiccups and the tears, you told him about the little boy in the hospital that day, the one that died alone without his mother or any of his family. The one who’s pudding cup was still in your locker at work because you couldn’t bear to throw it out, because every time you tried to the feeling of his hand in yours would tie it to you like an anchor to the bottom of the ocean.

“I just felt so helpless, Harry, it was...it was the worst feeling I’ve ever felt in my entire life,” you concluded, your face bright red and your eyes stinging as you looked at him. “I never want to feel that way ever again.”

Harry’s own eyes threatened to fill with tears at the sight of you like this— the only other time he’d ever seen you this upset was when you broke up with your long term boyfriend on Christmas two years ago. And even then, it wasn’t like this. Back then you didn’t look so...broken.

Oh, how he wished he could put you back together.

“C’mere,” he murmured softly, opening his arms as he leaned back onto the tile to sit on his behind. You sniffled as you crawled towards him, and you found that you fit against his chest easily. His arms wound around your frame strongly, pulling you against this chest and tucking your head under his chin. He smelled faintly of soap, aftershave, and Tom Ford cologne, and the scent made your head spin and your muscles relax. You felt his chest vibrate slightly as he hummed, closing your eyes and letting yourself be taken care of.

“You have to do this,” he whispered, and you suddenly realized that his lips were against the top of your head. “You have to do this, Y/N, because I know you. I know that you were meant to do this...we need doctors like you. Doctors who don’t just see it as a way to earn a paycheque— ones who will stop to ask a sick boy what his favorite pudding is. One who will spend their time holding someone’s hand during that last moment, because it’s just as important as the ones you spend saving someone. You...you saved that little boy, Y/N. In some way, somehow, you saved him. You did.”

The way you saved me, he wanted to say, but he simply closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He had been there alongside you as you grew, and he had always known there was something special about you— you had this light in your eyes and in the way you treated people that made him feel like the world wasn’t hopeless.

Like he wasn’t hopeless.

And maybe he should have realized that sooner, and maybe it shouldn’t have taken him finding you on a bedroom floor for him to realize that he loved you. But lord, did he ever love you. It hit him like a strike of thunder, and left him shaken to the core.

And all the meanwhile, you found yourself surprised at how easy it was to fit into his arms. You wondered if he always knew exactly what to say, and you realized that Harry was a bigger part of your life than you’d ever imagined.

He was the one who quizzed you for seven hours straight when you were studying for your MCATs. He was the first one you called when you passed them. Harry picked you up from your prom when your date showed up drunk and your brother was too busy to, and he took you out for ice cream afterwards and made you laugh about it. He was there with your family at your high school graduation even though he had graduated two years earlier, and when you got sick and your parents were out of town he cooked dinner for you for three days.

And suddenly you realized that Harry had been there for you in more ways than once.

And you were in love with him.

You tucked yourself further into his embrace at the realization, your eyes shut and still stinging from all the crying as your shoulders stopped trembling. He ran his hands up and down your back as you sighed, and with the feeling of his lips resting against the top of your head, you felt yourself drifting off to sleep for the first time in three days.

There was still a dull ache in your chest, but you felt safe again.

You were there, and Harry was there, and tomorrow would be a new day.

But you’d remember this one always.

[justsomebucky]

Finding Closure (Part 3)

Summary: AU. Reader left behind a hometown full of misery to make a new home in Brooklyn. A death in the family forces her to briefly return to the place that has haunted her dreams and memories for three years. Will she finally be able to move on, or will a figure from the past change everything?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,809 (Jean-Ralphio voice: “I’m the wooooorst!”)

Warnings: angst, language, car trouble, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of bad home life, revisiting childhood home, tw: seizures (mention), medical emergency (mention)

Part:  1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

A/N: This is the next part of my submission for the talented and wonderful @tatortot2701 ‘s AU writing challenge.  I took a fluffy prompt and darkened it. Tags are closed.

My prompt was 28 .“____ is not a real word.” “Yes it is!”

Bucky can’t help himself, can he? And how cool is Sam?

The next morning, you left Darcy at the hotel to sleep off the previous night’s fun. There was no way she was going to be of any use to you today anyways, not with how much alcohol she had consumed.

This was something you felt you should do alone, at least this first visit.

The drive to your house was short and not-so-sweet. You gripped the steering wheel tightly in a vain attempt to calm down, silently willing yourself to get out of the car. From where you sat, you could see the end of the walk and the small (but somehow still wildly out of control) hedges that lined the yard.

Were you ready for this?

Did you even have a choice, really?

The inconvenient answer to both of those questions was absolutely not.

It wasn’t like you had anyone else to throw this task to. You didn’t have any siblings, and your extended family would never bother to help you. No, you were made to suffer through this one final thing, a nice little parting gift from a man who always did his best to make sure you were miserable.

Sam was already there, naturally. He was leaning up against his beautiful and impractical sports car parked in the driveway. There were sunglasses on his face even though the late spring sky was cloud-covered once again. His bomber jacket was the only thing that made sense on this chilly morning.

Your eyes slid to the clock on the dash. If you sat here any longer, Sam was going to charge you extra. You really liked him but you didn’t exactly want to finance his next summer vacation.

Reluctantly, you got out of the car, taking a few deep breaths as you shut the door.

“Well, well, well,” he said, straightening at the sight of you as you made your way up the crumbling walk. You saw a bottle of champagne in one hand and his briefcase in the other. “Look who finally decided to show. I was just about to round up your bill to another half hour.”

“Geez, Sam, it’s really good to see you, too,” you deadpanned, offering him a small smile. “How’s the missus? How’s Riley doing in school?”

“Charlie’s good, real good. She just finished up her residency at Children’s.”

“Leave it to you to find someone just as brainy and dedicated as you are.”

Sam chuckled. “Riley, well, he’s growing so fast, learning a lot…he’s more interested in sports, can you believe it?”

“Maybe you’ll raise a billionaire athlete?”

“Maybe. So anyway, are you ready for the good news or the bad news first?”

You smacked your forehead lightly. “Why is it that you can’t ever trust a lawyer?”

“Hilarious. You come up with that just now, or…?”

“Bad news first, please, I’m a realist.”

“Or a sadist.” Sam motioned for you to follow as he turned and walked closer to the house.

This moment was where someone with a normal reaction to their childhood home would have happily followed. Instead, you found your feet planted on that crumbling walk, your eyes shifting nervously to the house for the first time.

It was still as depressing as you remembered. The paint was all but peeled from the sides, and the roof over the back porch was caving in a little. Some shingles were missing in places on the roof, and a broken window had cardboard covering it.

Yeah, you definitely didn’t miss this place.

“Come on, Y/N, we have work to do,” Sam pressed.

You fumbled with the keys for a second (those damn shaking hands again), and when you finally got the door opened, you pushed your way inside. Everything was just as you’d left it the day you had to help grab some of your father’s things, after the seizures started.

That had truly been the day from hell.

It started off like any other lonely and miserable post-Bucky breakup day. It hadn’t even been a week after you graduated that you came home from the store to find your father on the floor having an seizing episode. EMTs stabilized him and took him via ambulance to the hospital, while you stayed back to grab some clothes and personal hygiene supplies.

The doctors told you his drinking was the problem, then they really laid it on you: he no longer had full brain functionality.

You had to put your dad in a personal care home at the expense of the state when he could no longer care for himself and needed frequent medical attention.

Since personal care homes were ridiculously expensive, and your father didn’t have a penny to his name, you signed forms stating that in the highly likely event that he passed away the estate would be sold off immediately. This was so the state could recoup some of its losses.

Not that you wanted to keep it. No freaking way.

Sam set the champagne and his briefcase down on the kitchen table and opened it, pulling out a large stack of documents. “I took care of the sale for you. The contractors who bought it want to flip the house for resale, and I think they offered a fair price, for what it’s worth. Your realtor had a hard time finding someone to make an offer as-is.”

“Thank you,” you said, nodding as you shuffled through each page to find the little stickers so you could sign everything away. “That all sounds okay. So what’s the bad part?”

He handed you a pen and you signed while he kept talking.

“The bad part is they only agreed to the fair price if you got all this shit out of here by the end of the week.”

Your pen nearly scraped a hole in the paper as you glanced up at him in shock. “Are you kidding me? I’m not here that long, Sam, what am I gonna do?”

“I suggest you find a way to be here, Y/N. I can help arrange for the city mission folks to bring their van out. They can take a lot away for donations and you can claim it on your taxes.”

“Great,” you muttered, going back to signing your childhood home away. “What’s the good news, then?”

“I actually ended up giving the good news first.”

“Great.”

It took a couple minutes, but once you’d signed everything, Sam shoved the documents back in his briefcase and gave you a small smile, pushing the bottle in your direction.

“This is for you. I know you don’t like to drink much, given the whole…anyway, Charlie wanted me to give it anyways. She said, ‘That girl deserves some expensive bubbly.’”

The corner of your mouth lifted as you imagined her bossing Sam around. “Tell her I said thank you.”

He put a hand on your shoulder. “It’ll be okay. It’s almost over.”

“I know. I’m just really tired, Sam. This is the end of a long and painful experience that’s lasted, ya know…my whole life.”

“You’re almost free.” Sam gave you a tight hug. “By the way, I heard your reappearance caused a scene at Steve’s place last night.” He pulled back to look at you while trying to keep a straight face.

“Yeah, I forgot to thank you for not telling me,” you retorted. “I love walking into the only restaurant worth anything in town to find my entire high school there.”

‘Why would I ever miss out on a chance like that? The mental image alone got me through all my meetings over your house!” He laughed, then turned to leave with his suitcase in hand. “Don’t be a stranger. Oh, and don’t forget to cut my check.”

“Thanks for all your help.”

“Anytime.” With a final salute, Sam walked out of the house.

You were left alone once again to clean up the mess your father made. With another big sigh, you stuck the champagne bottle in the fridge and got to work.

It took two hours of non-stop back-aching work, but the kitchen was finally sorted. Everything salvageable, including the appliances, would be going as donations. The remainder would be trashed.

Now you only had the rest of the house to clean. No big deal.

Your phone buzzed three times in your pocket, alerting you to incoming texts, all of which were from Darcy. She’d finally woken up about an hour ago, texting to ask where you were.

You explained your dilemma, and she quickly fixed all the travel and accommodation changes so that you could stick around and finish what you started with the house.

It didn’t surprise you that Darcy had agreed to the travel changes; this was like a safari to her, only instead of watching lions hunt in the grasslands, she was watching rednecks smash beer cans on their foreheads.

She would never have to know what it was like to live here.

Lucky her, though. She really was an amazing person, and you would have to pay her back somehow.

The living room was an even bigger mess. That room was where your dad spent most of his time either drunk or drunkenly passed out in front of the TV.

You moved around quickly, stopping only to move a picture of your parents on their wedding day out of the way. You’d be keeping that one, even if it hurt to see them like that, full of love and hope. It was the only picture your father ever kept around him, since hers was the only face he wanted to remember.

The hallways and the dining area were cleaned in no time, and since you were ahead of schedule, you decided to finally take a break. You wandered up the creaky staircase and down the hall until you reached your old room.

Okay, no lie, you were a little terrified to go in. You weren’t sure what you’d find. Would there be a giant spider? Maybe lots of small ones, or even a bat?

You braced yourself as you turned the knob slowly and pushed the door open, ducking back away from the door just in case anything flew out at you.

All seemed quiet, so you reached inside and flipped the light on, peering slowly around the door frame.

You were completely shocked at what you saw.

The last time you had been in here was the night after you moved your father into the home. You ransacked the place, trying to grab anything important as you packed a bag for New York City, fully intent on never returning. There had been clothes strewn everywhere, books on the floor…

Now the room was spotless. It looked like someone had come into the room and tidied up, putting everything back just how you had it before.

Your eyes filled with tears. There was only one person who would have done this, and it sure as hell wasn’t your father.

Bucky had come looking for you.

That was the only explanation. He had a spare key to the house, something you’d given him the minute things got serious just in case of emergencies. You never asked for it back because, well…you hadn’t seen him again after your breakup.

Even still, it had been ages since someone was in this room. You moved inside, letting your hand glide over the painted walls and dusty furniture. A box on the dresser caught your eye.

It was your own little version of the cliché memory boxes all the girls in your grade had made in high school to store mementos of their relationships. He must have discovered it weeks, maybe months after you left, and placed it there for safe keeping.

You knew it was ridiculous to be embarrassed about it now, but you felt your face grow hot at the thought of him seeing all these cheesy little mementos. You walked over to it, letting your eyes wander over some of the familiar items. There was the first CD mix he ever made you, and a couple of movie ticket stubs. One of the t-shirts you stole from him was tucked in a corner of the box.

Then there were the many, many photos.

You liked the convenience of taking pictures on your phone, but he always preferred to have hard copies made. There were stacks and stacks that you never had time to put into an album. You reached for one, gently blowing the dust off of it as you turned it over.

Your heart sank at the sight. It was a picture of you and Bucky, taken by Steve as the three of you sat on the front steps of the library. Bucky was sitting on the step above you, his arms wrapped around you as you leaned back into his chest. He was kissing your cheek while you grinned at the camera.

It was definitely one of your favorites. The two of you looked so incredibly happy.

If only you could warn the version of you in that picture about what was going to happen.

You carefully set the picture back on top of the stack, not yet ready to look through them. This box would be one you took back to Brooklyn with you, though, you were sure of that.

Just as you were about to turn away and get back to cleaning and sorting, your eyes landed on a small envelope that had been set out on the dresser next to the box.

You distinctly remember ripping it from your pocket and tossing it across the room the day you and Bucky broke up, though you were pretty sure you missed the garbage can.

He must have noticed that, too. You wondered if he got angry, knowing you never read it.

Should you even bother to read it now?

What good would it do?

In the end, you left it on the dresser. Tomorrow was another day.

Darcy started texting you again to grab some lunch, but you asked her to order room service this time around. If you stopped your progress now, you weren’t sure you’d meet that deadline the contractors had set.

Even with the extension, you still couldn’t really slow down. There was just so much to sort through, so many things your father never bothered to take care of. You didn’t even stop to eat, only pausing for water breaks.

Just like he promised, Sam got the city mission donation van to stop by and start taking the appliances. After a few more hours the lower level of the house was finally cleaned out.

The sun was starting to go down and you didn’t want to be there anymore, so you called it a night.You had accomplished a lot more than you expected, giving a nod of approval to the front door after locking it.

As you pulled the rental car from the curb, you saw the stupid check engine light come on.

“No,” you pleaded with the car. “Please no.”

The only garage in town was Bucky’s, but you didn’t want to go there. You really, really didn’t want to go there.

The car began to sputter with each acceleration, and you knew you had to decide before you ended up stuck in this neighborhood waiting on Triple A for another two hours.

Maybe he wouldn’t even be there. Maybe you could get your car in and out without having to deal with the rental place in the morning.

You didn’t have time for all this car nonsense when there was the entire top floor of the house left to clean.

The garage was your only hope. You knew the way by heart. Bucky used to invite you over while he was on the clock, then ignore his work to make out with you instead. His uncle used to give him hell for it, but after Bucky told him about your dad, he didn’t mind your presence so much.

There were still employees working on cars even though it was late, so you figured it would be safe to at least pull into a spot and go inside to ask someone if they could have a look.

You were just a little more than nervous as you pushed the glass door open and went inside. A little chime sounded, and a short bald guy with glasses came walking out. His name tag read ‘Jasper.’

“Hi there, how can I help you?”

“Hello!” You turned and pointed at the little rental. “My rental car’s check engine light is on, and it’s hesitating a lot when I try to drive. I know basically nothing about cars, so I’m not sure if that’s really bad or not. Can someone here take a look at it for me?”

He made an apologetic face. “I’m sorry, we’re about to close, and the bays are filled. Can you bring it by tomorrow? We open at eight.”

“Can you please at least tell me if a check engine light is safe to drive with?” you asked, trying to remain polite. You didn’t mean to be cranky, but you’d had a bad day, too. All he had to do was answer whether you were going to breakdown halfway to the hotel or not.

Jasper shook his head again. Before he could get his next sentence out, a figure came out from the back room.

“What’s going on here?” Bucky Barnes asked, glancing between you and his employee.

“I was just telling the customer that we’re about to close, and-“

“And you figured you’d turn her away just because you didn’t feel like dealing with it tonight, right?” Bucky stood a little taller, his expression serious. “What if her car stalled someplace in the middle of nowhere and she didn’t have cell phone service?”

“I- it’s our business hours, Mr. Barnes, I-” Jasper sputtered. Poor Jasper was glowering at you now, but there was no way he could have known your history with Bucky.

“Go home, then, Jasper, if you don’t feel like doing anymore work.” Bucky turned away from him and toward you. “Is the car acting funny?”

You nodded. “It’s hesitating…kind of sputtering when I press the gas pedal.”

Bucky nodded, wiping a hand down his face before holding his other hand out to you. “Keys?”

You were a little confused now, too. Didn’t he try to leave Steve’s restaurant at the sight of you yesterday? Why was he so willing to help you now?

“You don’t have to, Bucky, I can come back tomorrow.”

His blue eyes stared you down with determination, and he wiggled his fingers again, so you dropped the keys into his open palm. Bucky pushed past you to go get the car.

You shrugged at Jasper, who was now giving you a curious look, and turned to take a seat in the lobby.

After Jasper and the rest of his crew were long gone, Bucky came wandering back in from inspecting your car.

You sat up a little, unable to stop yourself from appreciating the fact that he’d ditched his business casual button down in favor of the white tank top beneath, now covered in sweat and grime. Bucky’s long hair was pulled back in a bun, leaving his muscular shoulders exposed. He’d obviously maintained some kind of workout regimen, because beefy arms like that didn’t happen overnight. He was still really, really hot.

Bucky’s entire body was a work of art.

Well, that was unfortunate.

Your eyes flickered up to his as you squirmed in your chair, and your face grew hot almost immediately. He definitely caught you checking him out just then.

“So what’s the verdict?”

Bucky had the audacity to look a little amused. “The gas cap wasn’t on tight enough. Whoever got the gas must have not only gotten the cheapest kind possible, because it was bad, but then they didn’t put the damn cap back on.”

You felt super idiotic now. “The rental car gave it to us like this. We- we didn’t have time to get gas yesterday.”

“It happens. Water or dirt can get into gas, and that messes with the engine. Anyway, I’m draining the tank now. Once I replace the gas it should work fine.”

“Thank you,” you said softly. “I just- you know I don’t know a thing about it. I worry.”

“I know,” he agreed, the corner of his mouth lifting a little.

Neither of you said anything for a moment, then you both spoke up at once.

“Let me buy you dinner, Buck, it’s the least I can do since you-“

“Anyways, I guess I should go back in, get this fixed up for you so you don’t have to wait-“

You both laughed uncomfortably.

“Sorry, you first.”

You cleared your throat. “I was just saying you should let me buy you dinner, Buck...for being so nice to me tonight.”

Bucky shook his head, wiping his palms on his jeans. “It’s no problem. I wouldn’t ever turn someone away like that idiot was about to.”

Ah, he would have done this for anyone. That made more sense. Plus, he couldn’t even find it in himself to accept free dinner from you.

You knew your disappointment was showing on your face, but you didn’t care. He was being unexpectedly kind, and you hated to not repay a favor. You also hated leaving here without accomplishing anything.

“Well, maybe we could order pizza or something,” he relented gruffly. “Nothing fancy. I can’t really run to a shower.”

Pizza? You could absolutely go for some pizza right now.

“Okay,” you agreed, trying to seem unaffected.

He gave you a single nod, then turned and shuffled back through the Employees Only door to the rental car. 

You pulled your phone out to type a quick message to Darcy, canceling dinner plans, then pulled up google to try to figure out if the pizza place Bucky used to love was still in business.

As you typed, your hands were shaking a little. You knew you were anything but unaffected when it came to him.

If you were honest with yourself, you were glad to have the excuse to come here tonight. You felt bad for ditching Darcy again, but this was a one-time opportunity.

You were glad that crappy car was sputtering, because you wanted to hear Bucky’s side of the story. You wanted to be in the same room as him and not feel angry and hurt. You wanted another chance for him to turn those blue eyes in your direction without the same anger they held yesterday.

Steve had been right; you shouldn’t get the details from a third party, you had to go to the source.

Tonight you’d finally get the closure you’d been longing for since the night you and Bucky Barnes broke each other’s hearts.

Part:  1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

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