#desperately praying and hoping that he’ll wake up and seeking his hand for comfort

[skoulsons]

you’re absolutely right, I haven’t stopped thinking about this. it doesn’t leave my brain, not for one second. i fell asleep last night thinking about this. i think about this like it’s the air that I breathe. they are the air that i breathe. i wake up every morning and this is the half a second clip that’s plastered on every inch of my brain. i just want PEACE.

[nayutai]

The Task At Hand

Pairing Mingyu x Female OC

Word Count 15.1k

Warnings mentions of infidelity, mentions of racism, foul language, anxiety, insecurities, therapy sessions, dumbasses in love, light choking, dry humping

Summary The first year of marriage is always the hardest. Unfortunately for Mingyu and Kamile, the first year as husband and wife may also be their last. 

Notes This absolute behemoth of a fic is my contribution to The Intimacy Anthology where I, along with many other fantastic writers, have explored intimacy in all of its many forms. This fic is incredibly close to my heart and I hope that you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please check out the other stories featured in the project here as well! 

Mingyu fumbles with his keys in the dark as he searches for the one that’ll get him into his house. The alcohol coursing through his system is making this very simple task a lot harder than it needs to be. He shouts victoriously when he finally manages to unlock the front door to stumble inside. He freezes when he hears someone clapping slowly off to his right.

“Two minutes and forty seven seconds. That didn’t take you as long as I thought it would but then again you have been good at finishing quickly these days.” Mingyu groans deep in his throat at the scathing words from the woman staring him down from the love seat in the living room. She lifts a glass of what he can only assume is white wine to her lips, draining it quickly. 

“I’m too drunk for your bullshit tonight, Kamile.” Mingyu grunts as he leans back against the door to steady himself while he toes his sneakers off. All he wants to do is crawl up the stairs to the guest room he’s been sleeping in so that he can go to sleep. He rolls his eyes when he hears Kamile clear her throat from across the room. If he knows anything about his wife, nothing good is about to come out of her mouth. 

“If you didn’t want to hear my bullshit then maybe you should’ve shown up for dinner with my parents tonight.” The venom in her voice makes Mingyu’s blood run cold. He’d totally forgotten about her mother’s birthday dinner tonight. Fuck. As much as he hates to hear her nagging him, even he has to admit that he deserves it this time. This dinner has been planned for months and he should’ve been there. 

He forces his eyes to focus when he looks back over at the brooding woman shooting daggers at him from across the room. It’s then he registers the fact that she’s still fully dressed despite the late hour. Kamile is a huge proponent of being comfortable within the walls of her own home and for her to sit in a dress and heels as she waits on his appearance does not bode well for him in the slightest. He’s surprised that she hasn’t launched her wine glass at his head.

“Whatever or whoever you were out doing,” Kamile rises slowly from the couch, impressively steady in her heels despite the bottle of wine she ran through waiting on her neglectful husband to come home. Silence stretches between them interrupted only by the damning clicks of her shoes against the hardwood flooring. Kamile stops to appraise the man she married when she reaches him, wondering where it all went wrong. 

“…I hope it was worth it.” She silences his groveling with a raised hand. She’s tired of the arguing. Tired of the excuses. Just tired in general. 

Most people would have some sort of emotional response to this but her exhaustion leaves nothing but an empty void in its wake. Mingyu may as well be yelling at a brick wall for all the response he gets from Kamile as she slowly climbs the stairs. The sound of the bedroom door clicking shut echoing around the house may as well have been a gunshot.

“One more thing for her to hold over my fucking head.” Mingyu grumbles as he slowly blazes his own trail up the stairs. He pauses before the closed door to the bedroom they once shared, hand gripping the doorknob in his hand as he contemplates going in to apologize. “What’s the use? Not like she’d listen to me now anyway.”

The bed in the guest room welcomes him like an old friend when he flops down on it, draining him of his energy. Thoughts of how he’ll fix things in the morning drift through his head. Sleep evens out his features, lulling him into a peaceful slumber despite the fact that he’s still fully clothed. The perfect cover for the plans being set in motion right down the hall. 

The sun rouses Mingyu from his sleep way before he’s ready. He could’ve sworn that the curtains were pulled closed when he went to bed but it’s hard to know what’s what when you’re three sheets to the wind at god only knows what time. Blindly, he reaches out for his phone where he’d left it on the nightstand but comes up with a piece of paper instead. It takes a minute for his eyes to focus enough to read the words on the page, but when they do he finds himself bolting for the ensuite bathroom. The offensive piece of stationary gently drifting to the ground as if it hasn’t just ruined his life.

He heaves and wretches until he has nothing left to give. His knees buckle several times as he tries to brush his teeth which is an incredibly difficult task to complete when one is sobbing with everything they have. This can’t be happening. He refuses to believe that this is his reality. Mingyu’s heart sinks even lower when he drags himself back to the bedroom and sees Kamile’s  wedding ring on the night stand next to his phone. He retrieves the letter from where it rests on the floor, reading it over until the tears he’d fought back make a reappearance.

Doing this feels incredibly impersonal but I feel like it’s probably better this way. I realized that the flame I thought would burn forever is barely a spark anymore. Tonight was an epiphany for me. I realize that I deserve better and I’ve decided that I will have it. I’ve always wished you joy and light and I will probably never stop doing that despite everything that’s happened but I can’t do it as your wife anymore. 

Take care,

Kamile Dexter

The usage of her maiden name feels like the final nail in his coffin. He calls. He texts. He emails. He even sends her a message on instagram. Every single attempt to reach her goes unanswered. Anyone could see that things hadn’t been the best between them for a while, but never in his most horrific nightmares did Mingyu think that Kamile would actually leave. 

Time is irrelevant to Mingyu in the days that follow Kamile’s departure. He wakes up when his alarm goes off and drifts through the day. His nights are spent calling Kamile despite the fact that she never answers which then leads to him drinking himself into an alcohol-induced sleep complete with all the blessed numbness that it provides until his alarm goes off once more. This is without a doubt the lowest point of his life and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Kamile grew up with Vernon so naturally Mingyu tries to enlist his help. Unfortunately, it seems that she has anticipated that move and stops answering Vernon’s calls and texts as well. 

With all of his other options seemingly exhausted, Mingyu calls the one person that could possibly help him, Sidra Dexter. A woman with many accolades to her name, Sidra considers being Kamile’s mother to be the most important among them. If anyone knows how to get through to his wife, it’s Sidra. Mingyu prays that she still has a soft spot for him as the phone rings in his ear. If this call goes unanswered, then he really will lose all hope in saving his marriage. 

“It’s about damn time you called me, Gyu Bear. My daughter left you a whole week ago tomorrow and you’re just now enlisting my services? Tell me why that is.” Never a woman to beat around the bush, Sidra gets right to the point with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile. 

“I don’t know what to do, Mama Dee. She won’t talk to me.” Mingyu whines, on the verge of tears for the umpteenth time today.

“Of course she won’t. She’s stubborn just like her ornery ass father.” The aforementioned father pipes up in the background to defend himself but is quickly shut down. “Now back to you, Gyu Bear. You have messed up big time but I love you so I’m going to help you fix it but I have one question first.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Did you cheat on my daughter? And yes that ‘harmless flirting’ shit you men folk like to do counts as cheating in my book.”

“Of course not! Wait…does Kam think I cheated?” Mingyu is floored and honestly a little angered at the fact that after all these years together Kamile thinks he’s actually capable of infidelity. The alcohol-induced haze clears long enough for his brain to recall a comment she’d made the night she left about whoever he was doing being worth it. 

“She sure does,” Sidra starts up, “but luckily for you, my gut says that you’re telling the truth and it hasn’t steered me wrong in the last 56 years so I don’t see a reason not to trust it now. So here’s what we’re going to do.”

Mingyu listens intently as Sidra outlines her master plan. Not for the first time, he’s in awe of the way her brain functions. The tightness in his chest subsides a little bit with every word she says. For the first time in the six days since Kamile left, Mingyu feels like his life has meaning again. His marriage might not be over after all. 

Despite the fact that Kamile had no intention of answering any of Mingyu’s desperate pleas for attention, the sudden cessation of said pleas only serve to further increase her anguish. She’d originally thought she’d be able to finally find peace when he gave up, but that does not seem to be the case. A part of her didn’t want him to stop trying. Didn’t want him to stop fighting for her.

Did I make the right choice?

The question has haunted her every waking moment as she adjusts to her new normal. She’s been adrift for the last ten days trying to figure out her next plan of action. Should she stay in Korea? Should she go back to America? Should she throw a dart at a map and go wherever it lands? The possibilities are endless but Kamile finds herself unable to fully commit to either option which is how she’s ending up existing on takeout in a hotel for the past week and some change. God, why did she have to be so impulsive? She should’ve made sure that she had a game plan before she just up and left like that. 

Her phone rings on the small night stand, interrupting her self-loathing thoughts. Kamile groans when she sees that it’s her mother. Ever since she’d broken the news to her parents that she’d decided to leave Mingyu, her mom has been giving her grief. Kamile had always had a hunch that her mom loved Mingyu just as much if not more than she loved her, but their break up has made her think that her hunch had been closer to the truth than she’d previously thought.

“Hey, ma.” Kamile greets her mother apprehensively, bracing for the latest round of her mother’s reconciliation efforts. 

“Hello, my lovely daughter. I just landed in Seoul so if you don’t mind coming to get me from the airport that would be great.” Kamile chokes on the mouthful of noodles she’d been munching on. There’s no way in hell that her mother just said that she’s in Seoul. Sure enough, Kamile pulls her phone away from her ear to check her mother’s location and it says that she is in fact at the Incheon Airport. 

“Baby, what did I tell you about making sure you properly chew your food before swallowing. Did you forget what happened to your Uncle Tommy?” Kamile barely hears her mother’s recounting about the uncle who’d died from choking on a fish bone as she rushes around her hotel room gathering her things. She can’t believe her mom really flew halfway across the globe. Thankfully, her hotel isn’t far from the airport so Kamile is helping her mother put her bags in the back of her SUV in no time at all.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything, but what are you doing here?” Kamile questions as she eases her car into the steady stream of traffic bound for the exit. 

“You just left your husband and you didn’t come home to me so I don’t know what made you think that I wasn’t coming out here. A friend of mine is letting me stay with her since I know how you are about your space.” 

Kamile is more than a little thankful for that. Her mother can be overbearing when she’s on a mission and the fact that she’ll still be able to maintain some personal space is comforting. She’s only too happy to let the gps in her guide her to this friend’s house. The closer they get to their destination though the more unsettled she becomes. She has no idea why her gut is telling her to be suspicious, but she’s definitely not about to ignore it. Kamile’s sense are on high alert when she turns into the driveway of a nondescript home in one of the more affluent suburbs of the city. 

“Mom, what’s this friend’s name?” Kamile eyes the structure in front of her as if it could possibly grow teeth and bite her. Something is not right here and if there’s one thing her mother taught her, it’s to trust her gut instinct and right now her gut is telling her to throw her car in reverse and get the hell out of dodge. The only thing keeping her from running for the hills is the fact her mother seems so at ease as she hops out of the car to grab her bags. 

“Her name is Bae Yeojin. She studied abroad at Villanova her junior year and we were roommates. She’s got a pretty successful business now.” Kamile hums in acknowledgement. She vaguely recalls her mom telling her about a girl named Yeojin from college, but that does nothing to assuage the uneasiness in her gut. 

Kamile waits at the bottom of the steps as her mother knocks on the front door. Her fingers are drumming on banister, eyes glancing back and forth from the ornate door and her car. She clutches her keys like a lifeline. At the slightest provocation, she’s ready to bolt. The two women squeal like school children and not the established professionals they are at the first sight of each other. Kamile wonders briefly how long it’s been since they last saw each other.

“Kamile Danielle Kim get your ass up here and say hi.” Not one to disobey a direct order, especially one accompanied by her full name, Kamile reluctantly climbs the short staircase.

“Jesus, Sid, you really spit this one right out. She’s practically your twin.” Yeojin exclaims. She pulls Kamile into a quick hug before ushering the both of them inside. 

One deep breath and Kamile instantly realizes why she felt so uneasy. There’s candles burning in the foyer, but they do nothing to mask the familiar scent she’s spent the last six years smelling. Mingyu is in this house somewhere. She spins around to fix the two women with what she hopes is a threatening glare. Unfortunately, neither one of them appears to be phased by it in the slightest.

“What the hell is going on here?” Kamile’s quickly starting to realize that not trusting her gut has landed her in a situation she most definitely has no interest being in. Her eyes quickly dart back and forth between the two scam artists in front of her.

“I told you she’d figure it out. Pay up.” Yeojin doesn’t take her eyes off Kamile as she holds her hand out to Sidra who is grumbling while she digs in her purse to hand over a few bills.

“Dammit, Kam, did I really raise you to be this observant? You’re costing me money.”

“Yes, now what in the fresh hell do y’all have going on?” The answer to her question comes in the form of timid footsteps sounding off behind her. Her spine stiffens. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. She can sense him. “Fuck this. I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not. Now turn your little narrow butt around and have a seat.” Sidra adopts the tone she’d frequently used when Kamile was growing up and even now as an adult Kamile knows that disobeying this direct order is not the right choice to make. 

It’s with a grimace, that she pivots on her heel to face her husband for the first time since she walked out on him. The satisfaction she feels when she sees just how awful he looks is cancelled out by the fact that she probably looks just as bad. It would be a lie to say that she hasn’t missed the comfort and solace his presence used to bring her. That she doesn’t want to let the outside world fade away as she hides away in his embrace. She wants that back. Craves it even, but enough is enough.

Curse words flow like running water through Kamile’s mind as her mother situates her on a love seat in the living room with Mingyu sat right next to her. His large frame dwarfs the slightly undersized piece of furniture. She can feel the body heat radiating off of him and it’s a battle of wills to keep from leaning into him. 

“First things first…” Sidra claps her hands as she and Yeojin take a seat on the sofa opposite the troubled couple, “I think now is a good time to mention that Ms. Yeojin here is actually a therapist who specializes in couples therapy.”

Of course she is.

Kamile rolls her eyes as the puzzle pieces start clicking into place. She could be buried under her blankets, binging on The Golden Girls right now, but no, her meddling ass mother has scammed her into marriage counseling instead. She should’ve ran when she had the chance.

“Based on what Sid has told me, the two of you are exactly one week shy of your first wedding anniversary and already on the verge of divorce. So, who would like to dump their emotional baggage on the floor first?” Yeojin glances between Kamile and Mingyu looking for a crack in their demeanor that she can exploit. Mingyu looks like he wants to hurl while Kamile’s face is a carefully constructed mask of indifference. She makes her choice easily.

“Mingyu, thank you for volunteering. Let’s hear it.” 

Put on the spot, Mingyu chances a glance sideways at Kamile before clearing his throat. Yeojin sits at the ready with her notebook and pen. She listens intently as Mingyu tells the fiasco as he sees it.

“I know I forget things sometimes. I try not to, but I’m an idol. I have a lot going on but that’s no different from when we first started dating so I don’t know why it’s suddenly such a big issue now.” Mingyu seems to find his voice as he speaks up on how he believes that he’s been wronged. The timid nervousness he’d felt before quickly getting pushed down so that his frustration can take over.

“When we first started dating, I wasn’t being abandoned in a house all day with nothing to do.” Kamile may have been grumbling under her breath but Mingyu hears her loud and clear. His head whips around so fas that the two mothers across from him silently worry about the neck pain that may cause him later. 

“You have nothing to do because you’ve turned down every opportunity that’s come your way.” Thoughts of the numerous job and consulting offers from Pledis and other entertainment companies like them that she turned down come flying to the forefront of his memory. Human resource agents have practically been beating down their door for the chance to work with Kamile, a creative visionary in her own right, but she’s rejected them one after another without a moment’s hesitation.

“You mean every opportunity that you have sent my way. Like why would I want to work at that entertainment company and be forced to watch that bitch Miyeon flirt with you every day like you’re not married?” Mingyu is forced to concede to her point with that one. Miyeon is one of the stylists at the company and, despite his repeated rejection, is too flirtatious for his liking as well. Unfortunately, she’s deeply entrenched in the corporate hierarchy and nothing short of murder would make the higher ups get rid of her even if all of the members have lodged complaints against her. 

“Is that the simple hoe you come home smelling like every time you’re ‘out with the boys’?” Kamile adds on as if she’s finally started connecting some dots in her overactive imagination. The fact that she has even entertained the thought of Mingyu not only cheating on her but cheating on her with Miyeon of all people makes his blood boil.  

“Why do you think I’m cheating on you? Why do you always just assume the worst about me? Do you think Vernon would ever let me even think about cheating on you? The man hates violence but he would beat my ass over you and we all know that.” The frown on Kamile’s face falters at the mention of her oldest friend. Mingyu is correct in saying that he would absolutely fight him, but there are still some thing that aren’t adding up. Yeojin attempts to halt the conversation so that they can delve deeper into what Mingyu just said but Kamile beats her to the punch. 

“You come home smelling like warm vanilla sugar every night when everybody knows that I am a Japanese cherry blossom supremacist. What am I supposed to think, Mingyu?” She can’t believe that he has the audacity to sit next to her and still lie. The palms of her hands itch with the urge to throw things but she’s done enough of that plus this isn’t exactly her house either.

“Seokmin always sprays us down with some random perfume because he says it keeps the women away and honestly, it actually works like a charm so I’m always first in line to get sprayed.” Kamile’s anger deflates almost immediately. To anyone that doesn’t know Lee Seokmin that would sound like a crock of shit, but it’s perfectly on brand for him.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

“We’re fucking married, Kamile. You could’ve just asked. Better yet you could have come with me to these events like I’ve asked you to do a million times.” 

“You know I hate those things.”

“Everyone hates them, but I would hate them a lot less if I had you there with me. I just feel like I’ve been trying to make an effort but you’re not meeting me halfway.”

“I knew my Gyu Bear wasn’t a cheater!” Sidra, who hasn’t set a word since things had started to get heated, pipes up.

“God, Mom could you at least pretend that you love me more than him?” Kamile throws her hands up in frustration. Her mother’s obvious favoritism is really starting to get to her right now.

“Not until you start giving me less grief.”

“Now, now, Sid. Let’s not derail the progress we’re making here. Kamile, is there anything you’d like to bring to the table?” Yeojin pats her dear friend on the back of her hand to reign her back in. She’d hate to ruin the momentum they got going by having Kamile suddenly switch gears to argue with her mother.

Kamile is only too happy to tell her side of the story as she recounts the events of the night that she decided to leave Mingyu and how it was the tipping point for her. Yeojin listens intently, taking note of the fact that none of the issues that Kamile has with her husband are particularly heinous aside from the debunked cheating suspicions. Each transgression on it’s own wouldn’t be enough to end in divorce, but rather it’s the heaping pile of them that overwhelmed Kamile to the point that she felt she needed to get out.

The more she listens, the clearer it becomes to Yeojin that their marriage is suffering not because they don’t love one another but because they’ve forgotten how to talk to each other which has lead to an unfortunate disconnect. The biggest obstacle is definitely going to be Kamile’s determination to end things. She’s made up her mind and getting her to change her mind is not going to be easy.

“I think I’ve heard everything that I need to hear for today.” Yeojin sets her notepad down on her coffee table, relaxing in her chair a bit before she continues. “The first year in a marriage is usually the hardest, but that seems to have been exacerbated by the fact that the two of you have never lived together before now plus Kamile here has uprooted her entire life and moved to a new country.”

“Saving this marriage is going to take considerable effort on both sides in order to restore the balance you had before you said your vows. Here is what I recommend.”

Yeojin challenges the young couple to separate themselves from their daily lives for the next week and go somewhere remote. A place where it’s just the two of them without any outside influences. Of course, this won’t be just some run of the mill vacation. They’ll have “homework” of sorts that Yeojin will be checking to make sure they complete. Mingyu is all for it but Kamile is much more hesitant. All they’ve done is argue for the past few months and she’d rather not be stuck in a house arguing for two weeks straight. 

“I’ve spent the past year stuck in a house with no outside influences and look at where that’s gotten me. On the verge of a fucking divorce!” Mingyu looks like he has something to say, but Yeojin thankfully stops him before he can rile his wife up any more than she already is. 

“You’re not just going to be ‘stuck in a house’. Think of it like a game of Among Us. The two of you are crewmates and this wall that’s been built between you is the imposter.” Kamile looks at Yeojin as if she’s grown three extra heads. There’s no way she just related this counseling session to a freaking video game. 

“I will also stop bugging you about grandkids for six months if you go.” 

“You should’ve just started there. I’ll go.”

Yeojin claps her hands excitedly. She sounds way too happy to be shipping them off to self-guided marriage boot camp, but Kamile stays silent though that becomes increasingly difficult as her mother’s friends lists out the “tasks” she expects them to complete.

“So here’s the game plan, I want you two to be totally and completely honest with each other as much as possible for the entire time you’re gone. Often times in relationships, both parties will censor themselves as a way to keep the peace but that can be detrimental as it has been for you guys.” Mingyu and Kamile don’t realize it but they both frown simultaneously at the proposal of this honesty idea. Yeojin takes it as a positive sign that they are still in sync on some level. 

“If the thought of doing it all day is too daunting, then start with just one hour. This doesn’t mean that you have to sit and stare at each other for a whole hour and trade statements just act normally but speak honestly. Okay so far?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mingyu casts a glance in Kamile’s direction, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out to her. He’s had to stop himself several times since she arrived and it’s not getting any easier.

While Kamile’s mind is running wild with all of the potential for disaster that an hour of honesty could result in, Yeojin powers on with the rest of her required tasks. On top of separating themselves from society and this so called honest hour, Yeojin has mandated that they share at least one meal together every day with one of them being dinner on their wedding anniversary. Just when Kamile thought that Yeojin couldn’t possibly pile more on, she brings up the “activity days”. Each of them will have to plan some sort of activity for the two of them to do together while they’re away. It could be as big or as small as they want, but it has to be meaningful. Mingyu draws Kamile’s attention when he pulls his phone out of his back pocket to start tapping away on the screen like a mad man.

“You guys have a lot of preparing to do in order to be ready to leave tomorrow so we’ll stop here for today. I’ll be checking in on you daily to assess your progress and offer any guidance you may need.” 

Kamile is out of her chair and halfway to the door before anyone can blink. The room suddenly feels too small as the gravity of what’s about to happen sinks in. She’d convinced herself that she no longer wanted to be married to Mingyu. She was so sure that her run as Mrs. Kim, albeit short as it was, had come to an end, but now she’s been confronted that her main reason for ending things was baseless. This is not how she thought things would go.

Day 1

The drive from the hotel to the home she’s shared with Mingyu for the past year goes way too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu had texted her about having to go gas up the rental car so he’s nowhere to be seen when Kamile arrives. She sits in the driveway for a few minutes thinking of the memories saturated into the home that looms before her. The memories she had hoped to create. A stray tear slips down her cheek and she swipes at it furiously. She swore that she was done shedding tears over this but they just keep on coming.

Her pity party is interrupted by an unfamiliar SUV pulling into the driveway behind her. Kamile looks in the mirror to see Mingyu getting out of the driver’s seat. She does her best to erase the evidence of her tears, but the look on his face when she opens her own door says that she wasn’t very successful. 

“Are you-”

“I’m fine.” Kamile cuts him off before he can even finish his question. She stalks to the back of her car to start transferring her bags from her car to the behemoth of an SUV behind her.

“I’ll get them.” Mingyu takes the bag she’d already grabbed from Kamile’s hands, motioning to the passenger’s seat. Kamile, no longer in the mood to speak, wordlessly follows his directive and climbs into the SUV.

It takes Mingyu no time at all to load Kamile’s bags into the back with his own. 

“Obviously this is a sign that we should just leave.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to let a lost set of keys stand between me and keeping my marriage.”

“Why do you even care? Why are we even doing this?” Kamile screams. She’s been holding this in for far too long and she can’t take it anymore. 

“For better or for worse.” Mingyu’s face is a mask of carefully controlled fury and it’s giving Kamile pause. She’s never seen him like this before. “We promised each other for better or for worse and yet you’re ready to run for the hills at the first sign of trouble. I’ll admit that I’m not perfect and certainly played a role in why we’re here but I’m willing to put in the work to make it better because those vows meant something to me. I thought they meant something to you too.”

Kamile is incredibly taken aback at Mingyu’s fervent desire to stay married. She didn’t think that he cared that much anymore. Without any further protest, she joins him in the hunt for the elusive key to the front door. Fifteen minutes pass and they are no closer to gaining entry than they were when they first arrived. A rep with the rental company calls as they’re checking the bottom of the flower pots that line the front porch and tells them that the keys were mistakenly put in the mailbox. The same mailbox that sits at the end of the mile long driveway. Kamile makes to get back in the car to drive to the end of the driveway but Mingyu suggests walking it.

“It would be faster in the car.”

“You heard that therapist lady. We’re supposed to be spending time together. What better way to do it than by walking two miles?” Kamile walks back and forth as she considers her options. She can resist which will probably lead to yet another fight or she can just suck it up and walk to the mailbox. With a groan, she makes her decision.

“Fine, but if I get tired you’re carrying me.”

“Anything for you, my lady.” He bows deeply which almost makes Kamile crack a smile. She steels her resolve quickly though and reminds herself not to get caught up in his antics. He’s going to have to do a lot more than make her laugh in order to get out of the dog house.

The walk to the mailbox and back is quiet for the most part. Their footfalls join the hum of the wildlife in the woods that line the driveway on either side, but the jokes and playful jabs that used to fill the air between them is noticeably absent. Neither one is sure of what to say or do around the other anymore. Thankfully, the key is hanging on a hook inside the rather large mailbox.

Mingyu fully expected for Kamile to ask to be carried on the way back. She’s never been a huge fan of physical activity so it doesn’t come as a surprised to him when she starts whining halfway back to the cabin.

“I can’t do it just leave me here with my flower friends. I’ll become one with the forest.” Mingyu wordlessly moves to crouch down in front of her. He’s thankful that she can’t see his face to save himself the embarrassment of having to explain why he’s so excited to carry her for the last half mile to the end of the driveway.

Kamile doesn’t hesitate a single second to climb onto his back, clinging to him like a koala. It’s not lost on either one of them that this is the most physical contact they’ve had with each other in months. She’s wrapped around him tight enough that he doesn’t need to support her thighs, but he does it anyway. No way in hell is going to let this moment pass by without taking full advantage. 

They opt to spend the rest of the day just getting settled in. Yeojin had encouraged them to share a bedroom but Kamile is not down with that. Mingyu is disappointed when she wheels her suitcase into one of the guest bedrooms but he takes solace in the fact that she’s chosen the one right across the master where he’d dropped his things hoping she’d follow. He hopes that at some point in the next few days she’ll finally share a bed with him again. 

Dinner ends up being Thai takeout. Kamile has to admit that she’s impressed when Mingyu is able to rattle off her usual order with practiced ease. There once was a time when they’d get Thai food together all the time, but they’re so far removed from that time that she was sure he’d have forgotten by now. They eat without a single word exchanged before going their separate ways to bed.

Day 2

Mingyu wakes up before the sun despite the fact that he slept all of two hours the night before. His hands are on the verge of trembling from all of the nervous energy coursing through his body. Today is the official first day of marriage bootcamp and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s barely seven so there’s no way that Kamile has even attempted to get out of bed yet. Like a thief in the night, Mingyu creeps down the hall to peek into the bedroom that she had claimed as her own. A small smile graces his face at the cute way she hugs one of the throw pillows to her chest. It falters a little when his brain reminds him that she used to hug him close to her like that and not a pillow, but he shoves that depressing thought away for now. He has work to do.

The smell of bacon rouses Kamile from sleep, luring her down the stairs. She grunts a greeting at the man currently tending to a pan of scrambled eggs as she reaches for the stack of bacon on the counter to his left. Mingyu is quick to swat her hand away before she can secure her bounty.

“The eggs are almost done. Be patient.” Kamile whines at being chastised, scowling at the back of Mingyu’s head with disdain.

In the midst of her grumbling, she finally takes notice of his attire or the lack thereof. Saliva pools in her mouth at the sight of his muscles flexing as he cooks the eggs. Her gaze moves lower to his trim waist and the pair of gray sweatpants hanging from said waist in a way that has no business being as attractive as it is. Her fingers twitch with the urge to slide her hands beneath the waistband of those sweatpants to get at that prize she knows is there but she keeps them to herself.

“Earth to Kamile.” Mingyu chants as he waves a spatula in front of her face. She blinks rapidly, doing her best to clear the thick fog of arousal from her mind. The uncomfortable sensation of her panties sticking to her skin is quickly forgotten when Mingyu holds up a plate peeled high with bacon, eggs, and blueberry pancakes.

“Thanks, Gyu.” Kamile murmurs as she takes the proffered plate and heads for the table. She falters half a step when she realizes that she’s let his nickname slip. She prays that he didn’t notice and if he did, she prays he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Gyu? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” Looks like that prayer went unanswered. The shit eating grin on Mingyu’s face makes her itch. 

“I’m hungry and thankful. Don’t push it.” 

They eat in silence. The only sounds are their forks as they make contact with their plates.  Mingyu is kicking himself in the ass for not saying anything but his brain is short circuiting. Thankfully, the buzzing from the intercom by the front door signaling that someone is at the front gate. It’s the special grocery delivery he’d requested for the first of their planned activity days. 

“What’s all this for?” Kamile asks curiously. She pokes through a few of the bags to see fresh strawberries and a variety of other fruits along with a very large bag of rice cakes.

“I was thinking we could have a picnic today for our first planned activity.” His heart races as he waits for Kamile’s reaction to his idea. She munches on a piece of bacon as she continues to pull things out of bags.

“I dig it.” Mingyu feels weak with relief at his idea being well-received. “Why so many rice cakes though?”

“You’ve been a tteokbeokki fiend since we met. Didn’t see the point in depriving you while we’re here if I could just make it for you.” Kamile groans at the thought. She’s more than capable of feeding her own addiction with the spicy rice cake dish, but she’s never been able to make it as good as Mingyu. Despite the fact that she just ate, she contemplating requesting that he make a batch of it right now.

Mingyu grabs a knife to start chopping up some of the fruit. Kamile takes a seat at the island across from him, propping her chin in her hand as she watches him work. She’s always loved watching him cook almost as much as eating the food he makes. She can’t even remember the last time that she was able to do this. It feels like a lifetime ago. Her eyes with sparkle with fascination watching him prepare the food for their picnic. 

“Open up.” Mingyu holds a strawberry up to her lips and Kamile opens her mouth without hesitation. The berry is perfectly ripe and so juicy that a stream of it runs down her chin. Mingyu reaches out to swipe it away, licking the liquid from his thumb. 

“Tasty.” Kamile squirms in her seat at the way his lips wrap around his thumb. Time for her to make an escape before she does something crazy like fuck her husband in someone else’s kitchen. 

Mingyu watches Kamile hastily retreat with barely concealed glee. He’d thought that she’d stopped being attracted to him, but that is incorrect if the results of the little experiment he’d decided to conduct are to be believed. He smiles to himself as he continues cutting up fruit. There might be hope for them yet.

After agonizing longer than he should have over the best spot to set up their little picnic, Mingyu finally picks a spot. He’s so focused on how best to arrange everything on the blanket that he doesn’t even notice Kamile creeping up behind him. He nearly jumps out of his own skin when she clears her throat much to Kamile’s amusement.

“Did I scare you?” It’s clear to her that she did, but making him admit it is too good for her to pass up. 

“No…maybe.” Kamile hums in response, kneeling across from him on the blanket. “That dress is really pretty on you.”

“Thank you.” She mumbles in response. It’s been so long since she’s heard any sort of praise or compliment from Mingyu that she doesn’t even know how to respond anymore. It almost feels brand new. 

Eager to rid herself of the awkwardness blooming in her chest, Kamile grabs a fork and shoves what she thinks is a potato straight in her mouth. In her haste, she fails to realize that the potato she thought she had is actually an onion. Mingyu doubles over with laughter at the pure disgust painted across Kamile’s face. She desperately wants to spit it out but she was raised to believe that spitting out perfectly good food is only a half step below a sin so she powers through. She chugs one of the glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade on the small tray to her right as Mingyu continues to cackle at her plight. 

“You set me up for failure.” Kamile has hated onions from the womb according to the stories her mother told about the smell of onions making her nauseous for her entire pregnancy. Mingyu must pay for this. 

“I purposely cut them big enough for you to easily pick them out. You weren’t supposed to eat them.” Mingyu defends himself breathily as he tries desperately to stop laughing. Kamile reaches out to punch him in the arm which only serves to make him laugh harder.

Silence falls over them again although, unlike breakfast this morning, they’re able to exchange some small talk here and there. The awkwardness that they’d started off with wanes and wanes until they’re left comfortably enjoying each other’s presence for the first time in a long time. 

Mingyu finds himself unable to take his eyes off of Kamile. He’d meant it when he’d said that the yellow sundress she’s wearing looked pretty on her. It compliments the rich mahogany of her skin as if it was made especially for her. The plethora of curls that he’s always loved are full of life as she bobs her head side to side, one of her many habits that Mingyu has always adored. His chest feels tight with the weight of his love for her. He can’t believe that he nearly let her slip away.

“You’re staring, Mingyu.” Kamile says between bites of the strawberry she’d grabbed. Mingyu opens his mouth to answer when a distant rumble beats him to the punch. 

“Oh shit.” 

The two of them hastily toss the near empty dishes back into the picnic basket. Dark clouds are steadily rolling in with the speed of a bullet train. Just when they think they might be able to make it back into the house, their luck runs out. The rain comes down in sheets, drenching them in seconds. Kamile is so thankful that the lack of pockets on her dress lead to her choosing to leave her phone inside.

Kamile is the worst mood when they finally reach the safety of the house. She just went through the stress and physical exhaustion of wash day two days ago and now she has to do it all over again five days ahead of schedule. 

“Did you not check the fucking weather before you decided to turn us into sitting ducks outside?” She seethes. Mingyu arches a brow in confusion at her sudden mood swing.

“Of course I did. It was supposed to be nothing but sunshine all week.”

“Well, clearly that was a lie but I’ve grown to accept that from you. Now I’ve got to go suffer through wash day ahead of schedule.” Mingyu winces at her words, but he’s nothing if not an opportunist so he chooses to ignore it in favor of jumping on the more important statement Kamile just made. 

“Can I help you with your hair?” He asks as he follows his grumpy wife up the staircase. She pauses outside her room to fix him with a glare.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? I’ve always helped you with your hair.” In his mind, this isn’t a huge request. The Kamile he knew used to be only too happy to allow him to hand over her hair products for him to do her extensive wash day routine for her. He’d actually gotten so good at it that he’d even started doing her younger sisters’ hair whenever he was in the states to visit.

“I barely know who you are anymore and you expect me to let you touch my hair? Not a chance in hell.” Kamile’s voice climbs in volume until she’s practically yelling. 

The last thing Mingyu wants to do today is fight, but enough is enough. Their screams echo through the spacious house as they go back and forth over Kamile’s mistrust of Mingyu. He doesn’t get it and she thinks it’s incredibly shocking that he doesn’t. Kamile’s phone rings somewhere in the bedroom she has yet to enter, effectively interrupting their spat. She leaves Mingyu in the hallway in favor of answering it and groans out loud when she sees that it’s a FaceTime call from Yeojin. She’d forgotten all about the daily check-ins that the therapist had mentioned she’d be conducting. She goes back out to the hallway and drags Mingyu with her to the staircase so they can get this call over with without ruining the carpet in her room. 

“Hello, love birds! How’s everything going?” Yeojin chirps once the call connects. Her hopeful smile falters slightly when she sees the sour looks on her clients’ faces.

Mingyu is only too happy to give the attentive marriage counselor a full rundown of what was happening before she called. Kamile scowls at him the entire time. To hear him tell it, she’s the bad guy but anyone with common sense would’ve left her alone after she’d made it perfectly clear that she was not in the mood to have a conversation. She can’t wait for Yeojin to drag him therapeutically for not picking up on that. 

“Kamile, what do you think lead to you lashing out like that? The rain was not his fault.” The woman in question is thrown off when the outcome she was expecting doesn’t come to fruition.

“He should’ve checked the weather before deciding to have a picnic outside but that’s neither here nor there. I feel like I made it very clear that I didn’t want to talk to him and yet he kept pressing the issue.” Kamile can’t believe that she has to defend herself. Mingyu is so hasty with responding that it sounds like a keyboard smash is coming out of his mouth.

“I would like to make it known that I did not say one word to you when we came back inside until you started yelling at me.” He looks incredibly smug as he watches Kamile’s mouth open and close as she tries to think of a way to refute his statement. “I would also like to make it known that I have been obsessive about every detail of this picnic and I would have never had it outside if there was even a slight chance that it might rain. Maybe if you had a little more faith in me you could see that.”

“And that brings me to my next point.” Yeojin begins. “We’ve established that the infidelity was a myth, so why do you continue to hold on to that mistrust, Kamile? I want you to really think about it and be completely honest with both us and yourself. I’m not saying that whatever you’re feeling is wrong because you are entitled to feel that way but I think it would be good for the both of you if why you feel that way is better understood.”

The theme of the day continues to be silence as Kamile ponders the question put before her. She’s mature enough to admit that not trusting Mingyu while also admitting that she believes him when he says that he didn’t cheat is contradictory. The root of that contradiction is something she’s been trying to avoid ever since she got roped into that surprise therapy session. Mingyu’s alleged infidelity had been her out. Her escape. She had cut and run on the back of a false truth and that reality is something that’s been hard for her to process. Tears well up in Kamile's eyes as she thinks back to Mingyu’s rant about their wedding vows when they’d first arrived. She’d thought that everything was his fault and being forced to face the truth is difficult. Mingyu’s harsh glare softens as he reaches out to wipe the tears from her face as they start to fall. He sighs when she pulls away from him.

“I can see that I’ve found a sore spot so I won’t press this any further today. We’ll revisit this in the future.” Yeojin gives them some tips on how to better communicate before she ends the call.

Kamile is only too happy to end the call so she can lock herself in her room. She doesn’t even come back out for dinner despite Mingyu all but begging outside of her door. He’s not sure what mental dots she connected when they were talking to Yeojin, but whatever it was seems to have upset her more than he’d originally thought.

A weather alert comes through on Mingyu’s phone as he watches TV downstairs. Apparently the storm that had snuck up on them earlier is part of a much larger system of severe weather that changed course and is expected to hang around the area for the next day or two. His first thought is Kamile. She’s terrified of thunderstorms. Always has been. 

He thinks back to a time before they started dating when Kamile was just Vernon’s pretty American friend that he had a huge crush on. She had come to Korea to visit and insisted on sleeping on the couch despite the fact that everyone tried to give up their room for her. Much like today, a nasty storm rolled in and in her panicked state she had accidentally ended up in his room instead of Vernon’s. The realization had been comical and she’d tried to leave to go to the right room, but a sudden clap of thunder that seemed to shake the whole building sent her diving into his arms where she stayed for the rest of the night. She slept through a thunderstorm for the first time in her life that night. A selfish part of him hopes that this storm brings him the same luck he had all those years ago.

Day 3

Heavy rain beats against the window like a prize fighter while thunder rattles Kamile’s brain until she feels like screaming. There aren’t many things that strike true fear in her heart, but thunderstorms are definitely somewhere in the top five things on that list. She’s got her headphones in and her music blasting, but it does very little to drown out the war going on outside. She rips the blankets from her body and makes for the bedroom door to go get in bed with Mingyu but like the fifty other times she’s attempted to do that she stops herself in the hallway. The door shuts with a soft click as she seals herself back in her own personal hell. 

Kamile jolts awake not even aware of when she had even managed to fall asleep. Sweat has glued her clothes to her skin and it’s making her skin crawl the longer she lays there. She groans aloud when she hears the rain still beating against the window pane. The alarm clock on the nightstand says that it’s just barely six in the morning which means it’s been exactly one hour since she apparently passed out from exhaustion. A rumble off in the distance lets her know that she probably won’t be getting more sleep any time soon so she drags herself to the bathroom for a shower. 

Freshly showered and in desperate need of caffeine, Kamile makes for the kitchen. Mingyu’s bare back comes into view for the second consecutive morning when she rounds the corner. His hair is sticking up in odd directions and he looks to be five seconds from falling asleep standing up as he stabs at the buttons on the coffee maker.

“Why are you up so early?”

“You need coffee.” He replies with a yawn.

“Yeah, but I can make it myself. You didn’t need to lose sleep to make me coffee.” She protests. Mingyu turns to glare at her until Kamile raises her hands in surrender.

“If you’re up, I’m up.” Kamile shakes her head at him as she pulls two mugs out of the cabinet. No sense in arguing with him when he’s clearly made up his mind about suffering.

The two of them sit in silence side by side, sipping their coffee, and staring out the window watching Mother Nature do her thing. Out of habit, Kamile leans over to rest her head on MIngyu’s shoulder. She stiffens when she realizes what she’s doing. Mingyu holds his breath. Scared that if he makes any sudden movements the bubble will burst and she’ll move away from him. She surprises the both of them when she lets the tension drain from her shoulders instead, relaxing into him.

“I’m sorry.” Kamile whispers into the void. If Mingyu wasn’t so acutely focused on her every move, he probably wouldn’t have even heard it over the wind. 

“Me too.” He turns his head to softly kiss the top of her head, taking a moment to inhale the familiar scent of her hair products. He never knew it was possible to miss a singular smell so much.

They’ve exchanged exactly four words since they sat down at the table, but they mean so much. There’s a near palpable shift in the air. Like a switch has flipped. An unspoken truce between them that they are in this together. Kamile lifts her head to finish her coffee and Mingyu immediately misses the weight of her head on his shoulder.

“Did you ever finish watching The Originals?” Kamile asks before downing the last of her coffee.

“No, it was kind of our thing so I haven’t watched it since we stopped watching it together.” She hums in response.

“Well, it looks like we’re going to be stuck in this house all day so we may as well pick up where we left off.” Mingyu nearly chokes on his coffee. He can’t even remember the last time Kamile willingly suggested that they spend time together. He pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming which she rolls her eyes at. 

“Come on. You’re in charge of snacks.”

For the next eight hours, their butts are glued to the couch. They only get up to use the bathroom and replenish their snack pile. They’ve spent so much of their time arguing that Kamile had forgotten how much she loved just being with Mingyu. Klaus is about to rain down hellfire on some of his enemies when Mingyu’s phone vibrates in the pocket of his sweatpants. Kamile can feel it against her own thigh and it’s only then that she realizes the way that they’ve gravitated towards each other over the course of the day. If she were to get any closer to him, she’d be sitting in his lap. Mingyu had intended to ignore the call, thinking it might be someone from the company despite his strict instructions not to contact him, but he answers it instead when he sees that it’s Yeojin. 

“Well don’t you two look cozy. I was planning to pick up where we left off yesterday, but I’d rather talk about this first.” Yeojin looks entirely too smug as she brings attention to the lack of space between the two of them. Mingyu half expects Kamile to scoot away from him now that it’s been pointed out just how close they are, but she stays put. 

“Can’t a girl just sit next to her husband without being questioned to death?” Kamile asks playfully. Yeojin chuckles and moves on with their daily check in. 

“Fine, fine I’ll leave it alone. Let’s get down to business. Mingyu we didn’t get to hear from you a lot yesterday so I’d like to get into how you felt when Kamile left. What was that like for you?” Yeojin rests her chin on her hand as she waits to see what’s going to come out of the box of emotions she just opened. 

Mingyu briefly realizes that this is the first time he’s talked about that day to anyone as he recounts that dark morning like the nightmare it was. Kamile listens in stunned silence while he tells his story. After seeing the bags under his eyes at Yeojin’s house, she’d figured that he’d suffered just like she had, but she’d never imagined that waking up to find her rings and the note she’d left had affected him to the extent that it did. The guilt that’s been festering in her gut increases tenfold at the thought of him heaving into the toilet.

“I knew things weren’t the greatest but I truly did believe that we were strong enough to get through whatever. Divorce never crossed my mind even once so it killed me to know that it had not only crossed her mind but became a viable option that she ran with. I get why she thought that was the best option now, but then it felt like I’d been blindsided.” Mingyu explains. His words are laced with the hurt that he’s been keeping to himself. Kamile picks at the words screen printed down one of the legs of her sweatpants wishing that a hold would open beneath her and swallow her up. She’s never felt so low.

“Kamile, I see you’re getting emotional. What are you feeling right now?” Yeojin gently pries. Mingyu pulls Kamile into him as his own emotions start getting the better of him. Yeojin is pleased to note that, unlike yesterday, Kamile doesn’t snatch away from him. 

“I was so focused on how unhappy I was that I didn’t consider anything else. It was all about me, me, me.” Kamile stares off into space as she opens up. She’s never talked about this with anyone but her best friends. In hindsight, they might not be sitting where they are right if she’d just talked to Mingyu about it ages ago but then again hindsight is always 20/20. “I visited Korea plenty of times when we were dating, but living here as the black wife of an idol has been so hard. Being from America, I’m used to people treating me different because of my skin color but when people feel entitled to be so invasive about it because of who I’m married to…it’s different.”

Mingyu’s jaw is on the floor as he listens to the struggles that his wife was having right under his nose and he never knew. He noticed that she’d become more withdrawn and hostile but he could never figure out why and she wouldn’t tell him when he asked. It comes as no surprise to him now that she stopped going outside. He can’t exactly blame her. Seventeen is going on their eighth year so Mingyu is a seasoned veteran at ignoring the things people say on the internet. Unfortunately, Kamile didn’t have that luxury. His stomach turns at the tales of her being approached on the street by people who wrongly called themselves fans thinking they were protecting him. The racist comments made about her online. She was suffering and he just let it go on thinking that she was just being moody.

“Do you think that caused you to develop a little resentment for Mingyu and his idol status?” 

Kamile’s first instinct is to say no, but given that they are supposed to be as honest possible she tamps down the lie before it can slip out. She did resent that she’d fallen for someone with such great public notoriety sometimes. It was different when she was just one of Vernon’s childhood friends. The general public didn’t really care what she did from day to day, but now one wrong move turns her into a trending topic and she doesn’t know how to handle it. There are days that she wishes that Mingyu was just a normal person, but then they would have never met and that’s not a reality she truly wants to live in despite her feelings towards him when she walked out. 

“Maybe a little bit but I know we’d have never met if he wasn’t Mingyu from Seventeen so it’s pointless really.” 

They talk with Yeojin a little while longer before she has to go to her next appointment. The air between them is heavy with the weight of the secrets that have come to light. It’s a stifling atmosphere and it’s beginning to drive Kamile insane. She reaches for the remote to restart their show, but Mingyu takes it from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” His eyes are misty as he struggles to hold himself back from crying once more. He could kick himself for not doing his best to shield her from the people that had killed her spirit.

“You’re already so busy and the last thing I wanted to do was add to everything else on your plate.” Mingyu wants to scream. She means more to him than being an idol. She always has. He cups her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“Promise me that you won’t hold stuff inside like that anymore and I promise to be better at not letting you. Deal?”

“Deal.” Kamile’s eyes flutter closed as Mingyu pulls away to press his lips to her forehead. 

He clears his throat before grabbing the remote to resume their show. For the next few hours, conversation is limited to the messy lives of the supernatural beings on the screen before them. The wind still howls. The rain is unceasing. Yet in the little bubble of Netflix and snacks that they’ve created, it may as well not even exist. 

Until bedtime that is.

“You know,” Mingyu says as they file up the stairs. The seemingly ever present bad weather still continues, “…you don’t have to sleep alone. I know you don’t like storms.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” It would be so easy to take him up on his offer. She could finally get some sleep, but for whatever reason she can’t bring herself to do it.

“Well you know where I am if you change your mind. Good night, Kamile.”

“Good night, Mingyu.”

Kamile stares at the ceiling in despair. She didn’t think it was possible for the storm to get worse but apparently Mother Nature took that as a challenge. She’s starting to genuinely concerned about whether or not the window by her bed can withstand the force of the weather it’s being forced to deal with. Kamile contemplates running to Mingyu’s room but shuts that idea down for the millionth time. Things feel...different between them after today’s call with Yeojin but she’s not sure if they’ve been different enough to justify hopping into bed with him quite yet. 

“This is fine. I don’t need to sleep.” She whispers into the void. 

She’s accepted her fate and made peace with it. Or at least that’s what she thought she’d done. A crack of lighting illuminates the room despite the blackout curtains over the window followed by a thunderous boom so loud it seems to vibrate her very being. Kamile is across the hall before she even has the time to process what she’s doing. Mingyu is out cold when she bursts into the room. Her brain chooses that moment to catch up to what she’s doing and flips on the switch of self-consciousness. Another loud boom has her throwing caution to the wind once more, sliding beneath the blanket to get as close to him as possible without waking him up. 

Kamile lays next to him a trembling anxious mess as the storm rages on. She’s so consumed by her own fear that she doesn’t even notice the man next to her has roused from sleep until he’s wrapped both of his arms around her to pull her into his warm chest. It’s as if the environmental warfare outside ceases to exist the second Kamile’s cheek makes contact with Mingyu’s skin. His presence drowns everything out just like it did all those years ago. The sleep that had been evading her comes quickly in his embrace. 

Day 4

A ray of sunlight shines perfectly through a crack in the curtain to hit Kamile square in the face. She squirms around trying to escape it and gets a frustrated groan in response. It’s then that she registers the weight of the arm that rests loosely across her midsection. The memory of running to Mingyu’s bed in the middle of the night comes rushing back to her. Her first instinct is to bolt, but she’s so touch starved that she finds herself turning in his hold in a bid to get closer. 

“Good morning.” Mingyu grunts something in response that she’s sure he thought sounded like good morning.

He slots one of his legs between hers and unintentionally allows her to feel the morning wood barely contained by his boxer briefs. Mingyu’s even breathing indicates that he’s fallen back asleep. Kamile would love to do the same but all of her attention is laser focused on the hardened appendage intimately pressed against her upper thigh. A damp spot has already started forming in her panties. She needs to get out of this bed now. Kamile squirms and wiggles around trying to get away, but it would seem that her efforts are having the opposite effect. A throaty groan slips from Mingyu’s lips.

“Stop moving.” He mumbles still half asleep. Kamile does her best to stop fidgeting and focus her attention elsewhere, but it’s not working. Her inner muscles clench around nothing as thoughts of what Mingyu could do to her dance dangerously through her mind. 

“I have to pee.” Mingyu cracks one eye open. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that he doesn’t believe her for a second but he releases her anyway. He sighs as he watches her run off to the en suite bathroom. 

Mingyu is noticeably absent when Kamile emerges from the bathroom fresh off a rushed orgasm though hardly sated. She follows the scent of coffee downstairs to find Mingyu bent over digging through one of the crisper drawers in the refrigerator. Back before everything went to shit she would’ve slapped his ass with glee and run away before he could exact his revenge. Good times.

“Did you hear what I said?” Kamile was so focused on his ass that she hadn’t even registered the fact that Mingyu had said anything.

“Huh?”

“I said do you want to get in the hot tub later since we can go outside now?” He repeats as he hands over a cup of coffee already milky and sweet the way she likes it.

“It’s almost 80 degrees outside and you want to get in a hot tub?” She questions slowly to which Mingyu responds with an emphatic yes. “Be honest. Are you just trying to see me in a bikini?”

“Absolutely.” He giggles when Kamile reaches out to smack him on the arm. “Why are you attacking me? Yeojin said we have to be honest at all times.” 

“I don’t think that included being a horny little shit.”

“I’m a man with eyes and a hot wife. I can’t help.” Despite the compliment, Kamile’s mood sours at his words. Mingyu’s freshly honed observation skills picks up on it immediately.

“Uh oh, did I say something wrong?”

“If I’m so hot, then why haven’t we had sex in four months? We used to go at it like rabbits and then one day you just stopped initiating things.” 

Mingyu is quick to point out that he did try to have sex with her plenty of times, but she pushed him away. Eventually, he gave up. It’s almost funny when the dots start connecting in her head. Her personal struggles had originally been why she denied him sex, but then he’d started coming home doused in perfume so she really didn’t want anything to do with him then. Mingyu has never been a very pushy person so he figured he’d just wait her out. He didn’t think that he’d end up in a four month dry spell (and counting), but he was also not about to look for satisfaction outside of his marriage either. 

“How about we save this sex talk until after I’m finished cooking? All of the blood in my body is rushing south and these rice cakes are starting to look like nipples.” Kamile nearly chokes on the water she’d just taken a sip of. Tears pour from her eyes as her body can’t decide if it wants to laugh or die of asphyxiation. 

“Woah, woah! When we said till death do us part I was hoping we’d be farting dust not barely 26.” Kamile is sure that he wants her dead now as her internal war between laughing and choking only gets worse. 

Despite her earlier protests, Kamile finds herself seated across from Mingyu in the hot tub later that evening as they watch the sun set. She fully expects him to try something from the way his eyes keep drifting south to stare at her chest, but he’s on his best behavior the entire time. 

Day 5

“Hello, love birds! I missed you two yesterday. What happened?” Yeojin looks hesitant almost as if she’s scared of their answer. She looks downright relieved to hear that they missed her call because they fell asleep cuddling on the couch. After getting a run down of everything that’s happened since they last spoke, she encourages them to continue sleeping in the same bed together. 

“Couples often downplay the amount of good that just being physically close to your partner can be. If you’re both comfortable sleeping next to each other without a thunderstorm being the driving force, please keep doing it.” Yeojin pleads before ending the call to go to her next appointment. 

Her words hang in the air even after she’s gone. Mingyu looks over at Kamile with a questioning look on his face. It’s clear that he’s after her opinion on this whole shared bed situation, but Kamile doesn’t have much to say on the matter. The two of them have been pretty much inseparable during the day now, but she’s still nervous about sleeping in the same bed together and she doesn’t know how to shake that feeling. She was too scared to think about it last night but without the weather to distract her she’s not so sure if sit’s a good idea.

“What’s going on in there?” Mingyu taps a finger against Kamile’s temple to get her attention. She shakes her head but he’s got a feeling it’s about what Yeojin’s bed sharing idea.

“If this is about sharing a bed, don’t worry about. You’ve got the rest of the day to decide.” She nods in acknowledgement of his point but Mingyu can tell that the gears in her head are turning even faster than before. Her overthinking is going to give her a headache.

Night time comes entirely too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu has kept her so busy that she hasn’t had the time to sit down to sort through her thoughts. Knowing him, he probably did that on purpose. He always hated her habit of overthinking everything, preferring to live in the moment and make decisions as they arose. Kamile has never had much success doing that which is why they work so well together. He balances her out and helps her weed out the important aspects of the topic at hand to make faster decisions. 

Her mind is racing as they climb the stairs on their way to bed. Mingyu stops at the door to his bedroom and looks at her with such hope on his face that she almost feels guilty for what she’s about to say. His face falls when Kamile tells him that she thinks it’s better for them to sleep in their own respective rooms tonight. Mingyu is a good sport about it, bidding her good night with a lingering kiss to her forehead. 

Falling asleep has never been a problem for Mingyu which is why he’s utterly confused when he’s still wide awake three hours after getting into bed. He’s in danger of pulling the sheets off of the mattress on one side from how much he’s been tossing and turning. 

This is bullshit. I’ve been sleeping fine every night. What’s the difference now?

Mingyu sits up to fluff his pillows. It doesn’t help. He kicks the ceiling fan up a notch. That doesn’t help either. He counts sheep, ducks, and even cows, but nothing is working. The longer he tries to avoid the obvious the more awake he seems to be. Sleeping in the guest room most nights to avoid arguing had taught him to sleep alone. Now that he knows what it’s like to hold her again, he’s ruined. He wonders briefly if Kamile is awake too. Is she just as restless too? 

He tosses and turns for the better part of another hour. The clock on his phone says that 3 a.m is quickly approaching and Mingyu caves. It takes less than ten seconds to cross the hall to her room, but practicing his explanation as to why he’s in her room at ass o’clock in the morning takes much longer. He knocks twice and pokes his head in.

“Kam?”

“You can’t sleep either, huh?” She asks without even turning to look at the man poking his head into her bedroom. 

Mingyu nearly collapses from sheer relief when Kamile simply reaches behind herself to lift the blankets after he confirms that he’s been unable to fall asleep just like her. He wastes no time sliding in behind her. Before he can even get it out of his mouth to ask, Kamile reaches back to find his arm, pulling it across her waist. 

“Good night, Gyu.” Kamile whispers. Her words are slurred as if she’s already half asleep. Mingyu kisses her shoulder, letting his lips linger against her skin.

“Good night, Kam.”

Day 6

A feather light touch to her lower lip is what prompts Kamile to open her eyes long before she’s ready. She pulls back slightly once her vision clears and she realizes just how close Mingyu’s face is to her own. He even has the audacity to laugh at her surprise.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d wake up.” He’s not sure how long he’s been watching her sleep, but he’d do it for the rest of his days. The pesky organ in his chest skips a beat as he holds Kamile’s gaze like a lifeline. He mulls over his next words very carefully, preparing for a possible rejection just as he did when he came to her room in the middle of night. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.” She whispers into the inch of space that separates them. 

Mingyu closed the gap slowly as if he’s giving her time to change her mind. Kamile sighs when his lips finally touch hers. One of his hands comes up to untie the silk scarf tied protectively around her head so that he can bury his hand in the curls he’s always been obsessed with. He uses his grip on her to guide her head as he deepens the kiss. 

She rolls onto her back and pulls him with her so that his much larger frame nearly covers hers entirely. Mingyu lets his primal instincts take over. Too lost in the way her lips are moving against his own. A groan rattles his chest when she squirms beneath him until his hips are situated between her thighs. The thin fabric of their respective underwear are the only barriers separating his aching erection from the place she needs him most. He can’t resist the urge to grind himself against her. If his brain wasn’t so clouded in lust, he’d probably have the mental capacity to feel a little embarrassed at just how quickly he’s risen to full mast. Kamile is floating somewhere beyond cloud nine when Mingyu’s hand that had been cradling her head moves to lightly grip her throat instead while the other rhythmically squeezes and pushes at her ass in time with his thrusts. Her head is tipped back in ecstasy as he kisses along her jaw.

It takes a herculean effort that he wasn’t totally sure he was even capable of, but Mingyu separates himself from the panting woman in his arms. He rocks back on his heels and Kamile’s eyes are immediately drawn to the tantalizing bulge at the apex of his shapely thighs. She reaches for him but Mingyu grabs her wrist before she can get her hands on him. He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing kisses to the back of it.

“Trust me when I say that I would love nothing more than to ravage you right now but if I’m going to be inside you again, I want you to have my ring on your finger.” Kamile starts to speak but stops when Mingyu presses his index finger to her lips. He traces the outline of her kiss swollen lips almost as if he’s in a trance. “I don’t want you to make a decision that you’re not totally comfortable with just because you’re horny. I want you to really want it. I want you to really want us. Now get up so I can feed you.”

A vulgar comment about what she really wants him to feed her crosses Kamile’s mind as Mingyu playfully swats at her thighs to get her moving. She respects his resolve and keeps it to herself but only barely. 

“It’s super nice outside. Wanna go for a walk?” Kamile would actually rather stay inside and enjoy the comforts of the air-conditioning, but Mingyu looks so excited that she finds herself giving in. She disappears upstairs to put on her sneakers mentally kicking herself for being so whipped for the man waiting for her by the patio door.

Mingyu laces his fingers between Kamile’s

They happen across a small stream during their casual stroll around the property. Kamile stops to look at Mingyu to see if he’s on the same wavelength as her. 

“Let’s do it.” 

Their shoes are abandoned under a tree near the creek before running full speed into the water.  The cooler temperature of the water feels like heaven. Kamile squeals when Mingyu splashes her with water. Mingyu suddenly lifts her over his shoulder, using the hand that’s not holding on to her to splash Kamile with more water. She’s out of breath from laughing when he finally lets her down only to steal the rest of her breath away when he surprises her with a kiss. 

“What was that for?” She’s slightly dazed both from the lack of oxygen and the searing kiss he’s just laid on her.

“Because.” He smirks at her before swooping in for yet another kiss.

“And that one?”

“Because part two.” Kamile giggles at his corniness even though she does her best not to give him the satisfaction of knowing it gets to her. Mingyu’s smile somehow gets even bigger at the sound of her laughter. He digs his fingers into his sides to prolong her laughter for his own enjoyment. 

They spend a little longer frolicking around before finally heading back to the house to shower and start on dinner. Kamile unsuccessfully lobbies to shower together but Mingyu is adamant in his refusal. He’s positive that the self-control he exhibited earlier that morning used up all the restraint he could’ve ever hoped to have for the next six months. There’s no way he’d be able to deny her. He kisses her quickly before running off to his own bathroom. 

Mingyu is totally and completely in love. He absentmindedly pushes his food around with his fork as he listens to Kamile rant about the mistreatment and near erasure of some X-Men character named Darwin. He’s got absolutely no idea what she’s talking about but she’s so passionate about it that he can’t help being fascinated. 

“Darwin’s whole entire superpower was that he could adapt to anything and you mean to tell me that robots designed to adapt to and counteract the powers of mutants were built off of Mystique’s DNA? Absolutely not. I might be a little-” Her rant is cut short by her phone ringing on the kitchen counter where she’d left it. She grumbles about being interrupted as she gets up to go get it. It’s Yeojin. 

Kamile returns to the table with her phone, choosing to sit in Mingyu’s lap for their daily check-in. The marriage counselor should get a kick out of that one. Sure enough, their seating arrangement is the first thing that Yeojin comments on. They take turns updating her on everything that’s occurred since they last spoke with her though they leave out some of the more sordid details. 

“This is what I like to hear!” She exclaims with an excited clap of her hands. “It seems that everything is going well right now. Is there anything we haven’t talked about this week that one of you wants to go over? If not, I’m comfortable ending the call here.” They say their goodbyes after confirming that they feel like they’re in a good place right now. Yeojin makes them swear to call her the moment they think they need her but she doubts that she’ll be hearing from them  until their follow-up appointment in a few days. 

Kamile makes to get up to return to her own chair but Mingyu stops her. She shrugs and reaches across the table to grab her own bowl. He smiles to himself as she resumes the rant that she’d been in the middle of before Yeojin’s call. He still has no idea what she’s going on about but he’s content to just listen to her vent. 

Day 7

Anxiety twisting her gut into knots is what eventually pulls Kamile from the bliss of sleep. Mingyu’s side of the bed is empty and she’s thankful for that to a certain extent. She heads for the shower, taking extra care with everything she does until she realizes how cowardly it is to stall like this. Deciding against putting on actual clothes, Kamile opts to just pull on one of oversized hoodies.

“Good morning!” Mingyu leans over to kiss her sweetly before turning back to the pan he’s tending to on the stove. He’s been doing that a lot since yesterday. Just randomly stealing kisses like he’s making up for lost time. 

“Just so you don’t get freaked out when they show up, I’ve got a private chef coming to cook us dinner tonight.” Mingyu mentions as they sit down to eat breakfast. She’s pleasantly surprised that he’s put in so much thought into their anniversary even though he’s yet to directly mention the fact that today is their anniversary. 

Today is their last day in their little safe haven away from the world and the status of their marriage is still technically up in the air. They both know that a decision needs to be made before they leave in the morning, but neither of them has brought it up. It’s like they’ve been tip toeing around the giant elephant in the room and expecting for it to just disappear on its own. 

Other than Mingyu making tteokbeokki, extra spicy and extra cheesy just the way Kamile likes it, they don’t really do much throughout the day. A majority of their time is spent tangled in each other on the couch just talking. They reminisce on the days when they’d first started dating. Kamile nearly falls off of the couch in a fit of laughter at Mingyu’s spot on impression of Vernon’s face when he’d caught them sneaking a few kisses in the dorm kitchen one day. Each memory is sweeter than the last and Kamile is overcome with the urge to make more of those memories. Now that she’s been able to let go of the anger and misplaced resentment that had made her bitter, she actually has hope in that possibility.

The heels of the platform pumps she’d decided on for the night click with every step as Kamile slowly descends the staircase. She’s determined not to let her natural clumsiness send her to the hospital on such an important day. Mingyu holds his hand out to her when she reaches the last few steps. He looks every bit the international superstar that he’s known to be.

“You look absolutely stunning.” Warmth spreads across her face at the whispered compliment. She barely manages to return the favor. Kamile’s nerves are starting to get the better of her and she hopes and prays that there’s wine on the table so that she can drink them away.

Thankfully, Kamile notices a bottle of white wine chilling in an ice bucket next to the table when Mingyu leads her into the dim dining room. The dinner prepared by the chef looks delicious and she’s can’t wait to taste it but wine is her first priority if she expects to make it through dinner without bolting. Her first glass is tipped down her throat in record time much to Mingyu’s amusement. He refills without hesitation though she chooses to actually sip that one as intended.

Conversation flows easily between them as they eat. However, the topic that deserves their attention the most continues to stew on the back burner as they talk about literally anything else. As nervous as Kamile was when she first came downstairs, Mingyu is doubly so. He’s done his almighty best to convince Kamile that their marriage is worth saving without outright begging her. Based on the past few days, he’s incredibly hopeful that she’ll come back home with him tomorrow and stay there but she’s always been a wildcard. You never truly knew what move she was going to make until she made it. The small velvet box in his pocket feels like a stone. During a lull in the conversation, Mingyu makes his move.

“Kamile,” He reaches across the table to grab both of her hands, “Four years ago you agreed to be my girlfriend and I thought that surely that was the happiest day of my life but then you said yes to being my wife and I knew then that I was wrong. You’re the most precious part of my life and I was a fool for not making sure that you knew that every day for the last year.”

Mingyu pauses to get down on one knee next to Kamile, pulling the ring box from his pocket. Her ring is nestled in the tiny velvet box. It sparkles brilliantly even in the dim lighting. “Kamile Kim, will you do me the honor of staying my wife?” 

Tears well up in Kamile’s eyes as she nods her head yes. She’d made countless lists and weighed her options, but in that moment she throws all of that logic to the wind. At the end of the day, Mingyu is the one. He always has been and he always will be. She can’t believe that she almost threw everything away over her own assumptions and insecurities. Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to slide the piece of jewelry onto her trembling hand when she holds it out to him. He stands, pulling her with him so that he can kiss her senseless. 

“I’ve been waiting to say this until I knew where we stood but….happy anniversary, babe.”

“Happy anniversary, Gyu.” She whispers against his lips before kissing him deeply once more. “Now take me upstairs.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.” 

[cauliflowercounty]

Return to Me (Fred Weasley x fem!Reader)

House:  You Choose

Blood Status:  You Choose

Word Count: 2k

Warning:  Mentions of serious injury/death-ish/distress/war

A/N:  Happy Ending

Not proofread yet. I’ll do that later :)

----

Coughing from the smoke and ash, Harry presses himself up against the walls of the castle as Ravenclaw’s diadem shatters in his hands, scorched in the fire Crabbe had set in the Room of Requirement.  Malfoy and Goyle disappear down the hallway without a word or thank you.

“Crabbe must have been casting feindfyre.  That’s the only explanation for the diadem being broken,” Hermione says once the air’s cleared. “It’s cursed fire so it can kill Horcruxes.”

“What?” you grumble, standing up and catching your breath. “How’d he learn that?”

“Probably the Carrows,” Ron remarks.  “He probably had a field day with them.  They were teaching the cruciatus curse in their classes.  I wouldn’t be shocked if they taught him how to cast feindfyre, too.”

“This means we only need to kill the snake, Harry,” you say, realizing Voldemort’s defeat is closer by the moment.  

“Yeah, but how are we going to get it alone?” Harry inquires.  “It’s practically a part of him.”

“We’ll figure out when we get there,” Hermione says.  

As everyone gets to their feet, the crack of spells can be heard echoing down the corridor, coming closer and closer by the moment.  Harry, Hermione, and Ron draw their wands, in preparation.  You clench your hand around yours, preparing for whatever might come.

Percy and Fred come into view, dueling two hooded figures in long black cloaks.  You sigh in relief.  Fred is still alive and fighting with all his might.  You watch as the death eaters’ silvery masks reflect the light of the spells as the opponents exchange blows.  Percy flicks his wand and hits Pius Thicknesse squarely in the chest, sending him tumbling backward. Fred skillfully blocks a curse headed his direction, countering with a jinx, causing the other death eater to trip.

“Stupefy!” Fred shouts, hitting the death eater as he falls, sending him flying back towards the other end of the hall and knocking him out cold.

“Hello, Minister!” Percy exclaims beside his brother with a smirk.  “Seems as though you could brush up on your dueling.  And did I mention I’m resigning?”

You jump forward and join Percy, wrapping up the Minister in binds made of his own robes.  Percy swirls his wand and the Thicknesse quickly starts to transfigure into a sea urchin.  Percy smiles, satisfied with both of your work.  Next to you and Percy, Fred lets out a hearty chuckle, the vibrant smile you’ve grown to know to spread over his face. He starts to say something about how long it’s been since Percy’s made a joke since he’s so consumed with his work and shrouded in seriousness.  Just as the moment of satisfaction comes that there are no longer any threats in the seventh-floor corridor, everything slows.  

The shockwave rips through the air.  The explosion is unexpected and devastating as it sends everyone flying and to the ground.  White noise rings in your ear.  As you feel the rubble tumble past your head and dust fill the air, you don’t have a sense of anything around you or where anyone else is. After a second, you move your fingers and legs, trying to determine your injuries.  Other than a few bruises and some residual shock, you seem fine as you get up shakily.

“Hermione?  Y/n?  Harry?” Ron calls out.  “Percy are you okay?”

“I’m alright,” Percy says.  “Fortunately, my glasses are the only thing that’s broken.”

“Ron!  Thank goodness!” Hermione calls from somewhere around the rubble.

“Where’s Fred?” Harry asks as you gasp in horror.  Looking down a few feet away from you, you can see a light-skinned frecked arm sticking out of the rubble.

“Fred!” you shriek, rushing to him.  “Fred!  Help me!  Percy!”

You scramble to move the rocks from on top of Fred in desperation, praying and pleading to anyone or anything that would listen that Fred is okay.  The others join you, clearing the rocks with magic and their bare hands.  As soon as you’ve uncovered him enough, you scoop him up and hold him against your chest, tugging on his torso and lifting him all the way out of the rubble.  His eyes are closed and his body is limp.  Resting his head in your lap, you begin to cry.

“Freddie?” you whimper, running your hands through his hair just as he’s always loved.  “Are you there?  Come on, wake up?”

Percy takes two fingers and presses them to Fred’s neck.  Percy’s eyes widen. 

“I feel a pulse,” Percy sniffs quietly, a tear rolling down his cheek.  “But it’s faint.  I don’t know if he’ll between now and when we can get him to Madame Pomfrey…”

Harry, Hermione, and Ron’s faces all drop.  Fred’s always been there.  Making jokes, teasing Ron, selling his products.  Most of all, he’s been with you.  They stare at Fred’s face in shock, not even beginning to fathom a world in which Fred Weasley isn’t around.

“I-I have something to ask all of you and I need you to do it fast,” you say quickly.  “You have to trust me.  It’s for Freddie.”

The four of your friends look at you intently.  

“I need you all to cast the Patronus charm,” you explain.  “Now.”

“Y/n…” Hermione says.  “This isn’t’ the time.  There aren’t even any dem-”

“I know, Hermione!” you snap, shooting her a look.  “Stop asking questions trust me!  I need you to cast it or Fred might not make it! I can’t cast it now.  Corporal patronuses are best but shields are just fine!  Hurry!”

Everyone nods, grabbing their wands, and soon enough, Harry’s stag, Ron’s jack russell terrier, and Hermione’s otter form in the air.  Percy closes his eyes and casts his own charm, forming a small shield in front of him.  You nod to all of them and mouth your gratitude.

Closing your eyes, you extend your arm out in front of you above Fred’s chest.  You focus and reach further, your fingers feeling as if they’re pushing through layers and layers of magical barriers and shields.  As soon as you feel it, you grasp a small vial in your hand and it materializes as you pull it back towards you.  The others watch in confusion and awe as you uncork the tiny vial. You murmur a few small words, hoping this will work as you tip the vial.  

Out of the vial comes a shimmering liquid that glows as it descends through the air and onto Fred’s chest.  It shines as if it’s made from the sun itself and swirls with a pearlescent sheen.  As soon as it touches Fred, it glows warm, comforting, filling the entire vicinity in its brilliance.  The lights dance with the silvery blue whisps of the patronuses.  Within a second, it all fades.

You duck your head down to Fred’s chest and sigh a shaky breath as you listen to Fred’s steady heartbeat.

“You’re okay…,” you smile to Fred, who’s just beginning to stir.  His brown eyes flutter open and lock with yours.

“Y/n?” he whispers almost inaudibly, reaching up to touch your cheek with care. He coughs a bit, clearing the dust from his throat.

“It thought I lost you,” you cry as he brings you into a tight hug, your tears staining his jacket.  The others gasp and smile.  Fred’s still here.  He’s not dead.  Fred reaches up to Percy, who helps bring Fred to his feet and the three brothers quickly embrace Ron on the verge of tears. As soon as they release, Fred turns to you, scooping you up in his arms and kissing you on the lips, giving it all he can.  As you break apart, he rests his forehead on yours.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Fred whispers, noticing your tears dribbling down your cheek.  

“It’s okay…,” you reply softly.  “It’s not your fault…  I’m glad it wasn’t too late.  I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

“I’m not going anywhere now, y/n,” Fred assures you.  “There’s no way.”

Hermione clears her throat and you and Fred jump away from each other, surprised at the disturbance. “Y/n, what was that?” she questions

“Yeah,” Ron nods.  “Explain.”

“It’s….,” you trail off.  “It happened a while ago.  I was going through some very old books and I found a long lost magical technique.  I had to translate it.  What it said was that people can store concentrated healing magic.  Once a day, someone can cast a healing spell and concentrate it in liquid form and keep adding to it as long as they want.  If it’s kept going long enough, it can perform miracles.  It’s inefficient, though.  One person can only make one at a time and you can only add to it once a day.  It must have fallen out of use for inefficiency… but I’ve made my own.  That’s what I used to heal Fred.”

“That’s bloody brilliant,” Ron exclaims in astonishment.  “Why would a technique like that go out of fashion?  Even if it’s rare, it still had value.”

You shrug in agreement.

“What about the patronuses?” Harry adds.

“Patronuses are more than they seem to be.  Expecto Patronum means ‘I await a guardian.’  They repel more than just dementors.  They can slow down death in his footsteps.  They don’t stop him.  Only slow him.  Guardians are protectors, after all,” you clarify with a smile.  

“So you asked us all to cast one because it would give Fred the best chance?” Ron asks and you smile back to confirm.  “Wicked.”

“This bit of explanation and monologuing has been great, but the battle isn’t over yet,” you say.  “We still have to kill that snake.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione agree, beginning to head off toward the courtyard, deciding to seek out Voldemort and his snake directly, leaving you behind to stay with Fred. Just as they get out of sight, Fred tugs at your arm and kisses you lightly.

“Thank you y/n, I-”

“Shhh. Don’t mention it, Fred.  I would have saved you any day,” you cut him off.  “We can talk about this after the battle when we have a moment to ourselves.”

“I love you,” he adds with a hopeful look.  You grin, not being able to resist him and kiss his cheek.

Fred nods and takes your hand.  He looks at you in the eyes as if to say, “Ready?”  You take a deep breath in, the feel of Fred’s hand in yours reassuring you that he’s still there and this isn’t a dream.  With that, you, Percy, and Fred head into battle.  This time, you don’t let go of Fred’s hand during the battle for even a moment.

~

Years later, you’re living in a London flat that you and Fred share.  Wealsey’s Wizard Wheezes is a booming business.  Everyday, you wake up to Fred, giving him his good morning kiss before he gets ready to work at the shop.  You smile as you fix his crooked ties and kiss his nose.  As you part your ways as he goes into the shop for his work and you head down the alley for yours, you smile to see all the excited children already gathered outside.  You’re happy knowing that the shop is a success because it’s where he comes alive, talking about the products with customers. As you drop him off, George every once in a while flashes you a meaningful smile as if to say “this is all thanks to you.”

You travel with Fred to the United States when the international branches of the shop open, which was a much anticipated expansion.  You’re right there in the picture with him and George on opening day as they cut the ribbon, clapping and cheering the loudest out of anyone.

At night, you both return to bed you share, and you snuggle into his chest tightly, taking in the smell of Fred that you’ve come to know and love: cinnamon with a hint of firework smoke.  Each time, you tuck your head onto the crook of his neck, smiling, knowing you don’t know what exciting occurrences will come tomorrow, but Fred’s most definitely going to be there right beside you and you couldn’t be more in love.

[ezzydean]

018: “I want to hear you sing.” Kuroo and Oikawa.

Definitely under a cut because this wound up being 2400 words.

(click here to read on my blog and not the dash)

Tooru hums as he tucks himself against Tetsurou.  It’s still early, not even noon yet, but Tetsurou can feel sleep creeping in on him.  It might be because of the warmth of the sunlight they’re laying in.  It might be the long night of research they had just finished.  It might be Tooru content and solid and warm against his side.  It’s probably a combination of them all but he doesn’t really care at all.

“Hey Tooru,” he says softly.  Tooru hums in response and Tetsurou smiles sleepily.  “Sing to me? ��I want to hear your voice.”

“Oh?”  Tooru shuffles them a little until he’s draped over Tetsurou, smiling down at him.  Tetsurou can feel Tooru’s heart beating steadily against his chest and he reaches up to run his hand through Tooru’s fluffy hair.  “Just for you, love.  Just for you.”

Tooru takes a deep breath and lets his eyes flutter close as his lips part.  The softest, sweetest song fills Tetsurou’s ears and he struggles to keep his eyes open as Tooru’s voice washes over him and gently pulls at him.  He wants to give in, to fall asleep here and now, but he doesn’t want to stop listening to Tooru.

“Stop fighting it, love.  You’ll be awake again and grumbling at me to keep quiet before you know it.”

“I like listening to you,” he admits, sleep dropping his walls and his filters like anchors into the sea.

“I know you do,” Tooru whispers, breath ghosting across his cheek.  Tooru presses a kiss to both of his cheeks and then brushes his lips so gently he’d swear he imagined it.  “That’s why I never take offense when you tell me to shut up.”

Tetsurou laughs and when Tooru’s song reaches for him again he goes without resistance.

—

He wakes with a groan.  The sun is still fairly high so he didn’t sleep too long.  A quick glance around the room shows him a distinct lack of Tooru so he was clearly asleep long enough for Tooru to get bored of napping and wander elsewhere.  He shouldn’t be hard to find.  They’re literally the only people in this abandoned shell of a village.  Have been since they got here a few days ago.

Tetsurou stretches and rolls out of bed.  He wobbles for a moment — the biggest downside to asking Tooru to put him to sleep with his songs is how unsteady he feels when he first wakes back up — and shuffles out of the bedroom, snatching some bread and dried meat on his way across the main room.  Tooru isn’t here either which means he either found something in one of the other, less habitable destroyed homes, or he’s in the stream that’s just outside the village fences.  

Tetsurou is betting on the stream.

He still pokes his head in the other buildings as he wanders through village, enjoying the early afternoon sun while he still can.  Only a few more weeks before the chill of autumn started to settle over the land.  He wonders if Tooru has figured out where he wants to head this autumn yet or if he’ll just throw a knife at a map like he did last year.

Tetsurou is still shaking his head at the memory of Tooru trying to back out of his own rules in regards to the whole ‘knife at the map’ thing as he pushes through the branches and steps to the edge of the stream.

“Tooru,” he calls out.  “I hope you’re decent.”  He glances up and down the stream.  “Tooru?”

Dumbass is probably planning on trying to jump out and scare him like last week.  He rolls his eyes.  Eventually you would think Tooru would learn that he can’t sneak up on Tetsurou, no matter how much supernatural blood is flowing through his veins.  But nope.  He still tries.  Every few weeks.

“If you’re trying to play hide and seek Tooru you know you’re going to lose.”  He cocks his head to listen to the woods around him.

It’s quiet.

No.  It’s damn near silent.  No birds.  No animals.  No insects.

No Tooru.

“Tooru!”  He scrambles as best as he can upstream a bit and then back down, nearly tumbling into the stream in his haste.  “Tooru!  This isn’t funny!” he calls out as he hurries back to the village, letting his anger color his voice.  Better anger than the cold shiver of fear oozing down his spine.

He throws open the door of the house they’ve been staying in, barely even wincing when the hinges finally give up and the door slams against the wall and then topples to the side.

“Seriously Tooru this isn’t funny.”  No one answers him, not even a cricket.

He feels so stupid.  Of course Tooru left.  Tooru never stays put for long.  Never has and never will.  He should have learned that years ago when they first met.  He just thought that maybe… maybe…

He stomps to the bedroom to grab his things; there’s not much point in staying if Tooru isn’t here.  The research he needed to do is complete.  The only reason they had stayed was because Tooru had insisted.  Said he didn’t want to go back to the bustle and crowds of the living quite yet.

Tetsurou scoffs and starts shoving things into his pack.  First his clothes.  Then his various oils and potions.  His notes.  His bedroll.  Tooru’s notes.  Tooru’s cloak.

He stares down at the cloak.  It’s Tooru’s favorite.  He had actually made them turn around and travel two days back when they had left it behind at an inn a couple months ago.  It was, apparently, one of the only things Tooru had left of his home.  Tooru would not have left it behind.

Not willingly.

—

It takes four villages, three innkeepers who are probably mentally scarred for life, a half dozen threats of testing out his newest potion experiments, and seven assholes stabbed  — why everyone is so surprised to see a mage with a dagger he still doesn’t understand, a sword he would see the surprise, but a dagger?  Come on — within an inch of their life.  But he finds out where Tooru is being held.

And why.

“Shit,” he sighs.  The mansion Tooru’s being kept is isn’t all that heavily guarded.  But it’s heavily guarded enough that one mage is going to have trouble getting in by themselves.

He slips back into the darkness of the forest at the back of the mansion, hand already slipping into his pack to pull out the pendant and potion he needs.  It’s a full moon which will make the whole thing easier to do.  In theory.

He downs the potion and smashes the pendant against the biggest tree he can find.  He can feel the potion sluggishly fighting through his body, fingers going icy cold as the shadows around him grow and twist.  Inky blackness seeps from the tree and he takes a deep breath, bracing himself before he shoves his hands into the darkness.

A leather gloved hand slips into his left hand.  Fiery hot fingers take his right wrist.

He takes another deep breath and pulls.

Two figures, one taller than him and one shorter than him, come stumbling out, inky tendrils of blackness sliding from them as they catch themselves and stretch in the moonlight.

“What did you do this time?”  Yaku glares up at him from his left.

“Why do you assume I did anything?”

“Because,” Mattsun says from his right, “the last time you summoned both of us at the same time I almost got eaten.  And not in the sexy way.”

“What does that have to do with this?”

Mattsun shrugs and peers over Tetsurou’s shoulder.  “I dunno.  Just saying.”

Tetsurou rubs at his face tiredly.  “So.  Short version.  The guy in the mansion back there kidnapped Tooru and is trying to find a way to harness powers so he can make Tooru sing at will.”  He opens his eyes and gives them both a pleading look.  “And I can’t get in there on my own.”

Yaku tilts his head and starts crackling his fingers, cracks loud even through his leather gloves.

“Whatever the cost of your help for this.  I’ll pay it.”  Mattsun’s eyes narrow dangerously as he considers Tetsurou for a moment before he pushes past Tetsurou’s shoulder and heads towards the mansion without another word.

—

“Sing for me.”  

Tetsurou creeps through the shadowy corridor.  Yaku and Mattsun have cleared out every living creature in this entire mansion save for the two in the room he’s approaching.  He’s pretty sure he’s figured out how they’ve been trying to harness Tooru’s power.  If he understood the messy scrawls on the notes in the lab in the basement.  He’s also pretty sure it’s not going to work for the asshole in the room with Tooru.

Pretty sure isn’t entirely sure and he prays to all the gods above and below that he’s right or he’s going to step into the room and the man inside is going to order Tooru to use his voice to kill Tetsurou.

“Sing the song damn you.”

Tetsurou can just barely make out Tooru’s voice and he sounds so tired, so worn down, so close to breaking, that he shoves through the door without a second thought and barrels into the room.

Tooru is chained in the corner and the man who had him kidnapped, the man who had him experimented on, the man who caused him so much pain and exhaustion and stole the light from his eyes is standing mere steps in front of Tetsurou.  He’s clutching a glowing amulet in his hand that he points towards Tooru.

“Sing,” he demands.  Tooru’s eyes water.  He clenches his jaw and shakes his head desperately.  “And end him.”

Tetsurou leaps for the amulet as Tooru’s lips part.  He struggles to wrestle it from the other man’s fingers even as the first whispers of Tooru’s song wash over him.  The man gasps softly as Tooru’s voice reaches him, body going limp as he collapses to the ground.  Tetsurou struggles against the voice, like he does every time, just wanting to hear it a little bit longer.

He meets Tooru’s eyes, watery and apologetic; Tooru can’t stop singing until the song is complete or he’s given a new command.

Tetsurou’s fingers inch towards the amulet.  So close and so, so far away.

Tooru’s voice is a warm blanket on a cold night.  A crackling fire in the darkness.  A comforting embrace after a nightmare.

His fingers brush the amulet.

“Tooru,” he whispers sleepily.  “Can I hear your voice?  I want to hear you sing.”

—

Tetsurou groans as he wakes up.  It’s cold, his entire right side is numb where he’s laying against the stone floor, and there’s a stream of moonlight shining on his face.  His arm’s asleep, there’s a warm weight against his chest, and someone’s hair is tickling his nose.

“Tooru?” he mumbles.

“I’m here,” Tooru whispers against his chest.  His arm is on fire with pins and needles but he curls it up and hugs Tooru even tighter against his chest.  “You dummy.”

“’m not a dummy.”

“You are too.  You charged in, knowing full well what that asshole was trying to do, and didn’t even have anything to guard yourself from my song.”

Tooru’s voice is gravelly and Tetsurou wants to tell him to stay quiet, to let himself have a break, but he knows that it’s pointless to try.

“I knew it wouldn’t work.”  Tooru tilts his head and Tetsurou can feel his questioning gaze before he even opens his eyes.  “I read the notes in the lab.  Saw what they were doing.”

“How did you know it wouldn’t work?”

Yaku clears his throat and oozes out of the shadows to sit next to them.  Mattsun settles behind Yaku and wraps his arms around him.

“Yeah, Tetsurou,” Yaku says blandly.  “How did you know?”

“You can make a siren sing, eventually.  If you have the right spellwork and rules and objects,” Mattsun says.  “So how did you know it wouldn’t work?”  

Tetsurou smiles.  “Yes.  You can.  If you have the right research and enough coin anyone can make them sing.  But you can’t pick their song.  Well one person can, technically.”  Tooru freezes in his arms.  “But the siren  has to choose them.  And you can’t tell them to sing.”  He looks down into Tooru’s wide eyes.  “You have to ask.”

He stares into Tooru’s eyes until he sees Yaku shifting around out of the corner of his eye.  He drags his gaze away from Tooru to watch as Yaku and Mattsun have some kind of silent conversation with their eyes and eyebrows.  Finally Mattsun huffs and leans back on his hands, legs still bracing Yaku’s, and stares up at the ceiling.

“So?”  He asks when neither of them say anything.  “What’ll be?”

“You said you’d give anything.  Whatever the cost, you’d pay it.”

Tooru gasps and tries to pull away from Tetsurou but Tetsurou just holds him as close as he can.  If these were to be his last moments on earth then he wanted to spend them with Tooru in his arms.

“I did.”

“Tetsurou no,” Tooru hisses.  “I’m not worth—”

“You are worth everything to me Tooru.  The air I breathe.  The sun on my face.  The blood in my veins.  The magic under my skin.  I would give any and all of it to see you safe.”  Tooru stills in his arms and Tetsurou takes the moment to press a kiss to Tooru’s forehead.  “All of it and more.”

Mattsun gets to his feet and looks down at him.  “If that’s the case,” he says as he leans towards them, eyes flickering with light.

“No.”  Mattsun pauses at Tooru’s voice.

“No?”

“No.”  

Mattsun stares down at Tooru, eyes flickering.  Tooru stares right back until Mattsun looks away with a shrug.

“I wasn’t gonna take anything anyway.”  Tooru blinks in surprise at Mattsun’s statement.  “I mean.  He just saved my brother.  How can I accept payment for that?”

“Aww,” Tooru coos, “Mattsun you do love me!”

Yaku rolls out of the way when Tooru scrambles to his knees and throws himself at Mattsun, cooing and laughing as he knocks the other man over.

“So, seriously.  What do I owe you?”  

Yaku glances at him and then looks back at the other two.  He shakes his head.  “It was Matsukawa’s call.  So.  You don’t owe us for this one.”

—

Tooru hums as he tucks himself against Tetsurou’s side.

“Do you ever shut up?” Tetsurou murmurs sleepily.

“Nope.”

“Lucky me.”

Tooru laughs and kisses Tetsurou’s chin.  “Yep.  Lucky you.”

Tetsurou laughs and pulls Tooru tight against him.  “Well if you’re going to be noisy will you sing to me?  Please?”

“For you, love, any time.”

[chrysalispen]

vi. the holy glimmers of goodbyes

SORRY had an emergency come up last night and forgot to post this chapter for my non-AO3 reading folks, then forgot i forgot ><

AO3 Link

The stars in the sky are falling.

Meteors streak through the endless expanse of black, painting the skies with myriad pinpricks of light as they fall to the earth, and the land, so recently shored up by its nascent will, shudders beneath their weight.

Someone cradles her close, the feeble warmth of their body failing against the creeping chill within her own.

She feels the brush of corrupted aether against the tattered edges of her fading self, and forces herself not to shudder away from it as it seeks some small and pitiful scrap of comfort. It twines about her fragments in desperation, like a child trying to gather the pieces of a shattered toy in hopes that it might be repaired.

This was your fault, the someone screams, purest gold and snow white, your fault, your fault, and beneath that fury there is endless, endless anguish and the keening sound of a heart breaking.

There is almost nothing left of her now but still she reaches out with her last remaining sliver of consciousness. Oh, don't cry. Don't cry.

I'll save you.

I'll save you, she says to the someone, her soul fragmenting to pieces, fading into forever. I promise.

I promise-

~*~

Aurelia's eyes opened to the sight of an endless expanse of brown.

Throat tight with a hot ache, the Garlean wiped slowly at her eyes with trembling fingers as she tried to regain her bearings. There was wood beneath her, hard and unyielding and splintered, and the hot pain of her leg had faded to a dull throb. With some considerable effort she twisted her upper body just enough to brace her elbows against the table and sit up. Cold, damp, the foul smell of wet clothes and the copper smell of blood and the low ambient murmur of several people engrossed in quiet conversation- and she remembered. The Eorzean encampment.

She wasn't wearing her uniform anymore. Some soul had taken the liberty of removing what was left of the torn and filth-encrusted carbonweave, and had even taken the trouble to attempt to wash her and dress her in dry clothes. The shirt she now wore was rough homespun, as were the pants. Her right foot was bare, covered in mottled bruising that looked much worse than it truly was, and her left-

Aurelia couldn't see her left foot. Her leg was swaddled from her toes to mid-thigh in a heavy field dressing, and she couldn't flex it for the rough wooden splint that had been tied down at three points. When she tried, cautiously, to flex her foot it sent a sharp stab of pain up through her leg that knocked the breath right out of her. She doubled over, waiting for the pain to pass.

"Are you alright? Does the splint pain you?"

She looked up, recognizing the flat and tired voice of the Hyuran conjurer who'd helped take her to the camp - Edwin, she remembered. He looked pale and wrung out, slumped over a stool with his staff leaning against one of the legs. "Pray do not concern yourself. I'm fine."

"...You're crying. If it's that painful, there are potions we can-"

"Anything you might give to me would be better served to the men and women still in need without." Her own response was as low and subdued as his, her voice little more than a rasp in her throat. "The pain is far from unbearable; I simply had a bad dream. Hardly anything upon which to waste a willowbark tincture."

"Was it..."

"No."

He stopped. Her breath stuttered in her throat.

It's so strange, Aurelia thought. We all know what happened. We all saw it with our own eyes, and yet... 

They were practically sitting in the ruins of Revenant's Toll, or close enough as to make little difference, and they were still unwilling to say Dalamud. As if by simply not speaking the name aloud they could collectively will this waking nightmare away, one in which Nael van Darnus had trapped them all.

"No," she repeated, at length. "It was... I don't remember. A meteor shower, I think."

"...A star shower made you cry?"

She offered a small and helpless shrug, and said nothing more.

"Very well," he said. He sounded ever so slightly annoyed, but he didn't press the subject any further. "Suppose we ought to take you to the others eventually. But it's still raining and I'm not going to have spent time here trying to set your leg only for you to catch your death."

"And what of those who have no choice?"

"We've nowhere to send them." Aurelia might have winced but for the fact she heard no accusation evident in his tone, only a bone-deep exhaustion. "Wounded survivors have been coming into the camp since it was struck and we've more in need of a healer's touch than we have the beds to hold them or healers to tend them. I need rest myself, but without me there's not enough hands to work in the surgery."

"Then allow me to take your place."

"But- look, Garlean, I don't-" He seemed visibly flustered, stammering as he tried to find his words. Aurelia waited, seeing him through his surprise. He took a couple of deep and measured breaths, clasped his hands together, and shut his eyes. When he opened them again he said, "Why are you taking pity on Eorzeans? We captured you. You're fighting us. Don't you lot consider us savages?"

"You're not savages," she snapped, ignoring his surprise. "And why are you trying to dissuade me from aiding your fellows? I'm offering to-"

"Who's offering what?" a flat voice echoed from without the tent flap. Edwin startled, accidentally kicking the side of a nearby cabinet, and cursed as his toe cracked against the sharp corner. "Your own fault, Browne. Shouldn't have been sitting so close." The Elezen squinted at Aurelia even as she wiped her bloodstained hands on her apron. "Oh, you're awake. Sorry I surprised you with the spell. How's the dressing? Not too tight?"

Ignoring the Hyur's muttered oaths, she tried to offer the woman a smile. "No, my circulation is fine. The splint's inconvenient, but if it weren't there would be cause for concern. And there's no more pain than I should expect. You did well. Provided there are no complications the break should knit cleanly."

"For that you ought be thanking Sergeant Browne and your own quick thinking. Had you removed those greaves I'd be far more worried about rot, but that black... stuff you imperials wear under your armor-"

"Carbonweave?" she supplied.

"Whatever it is, it did a good job of keeping it clean. There was blood and rainwater aplenty, but otherwise wasn't much for me to do except set the leg and wait for you to wake up so I could send you on your way." She frowned. "Though were it me I'd wait until the rain's let up some. Anyroad, what's this about an offer?"

Aurelia glanced over her shoulder at the conjurer, who shook his head silently. Her lips tightened in irritation, and she turned her attention back to the other woman.

"Your conjurer has exhausted himself caring for the wounded."

"Aye, me and him and every bloody soul with the ability to heal. There's naught to be done for it."

"He needs rest."

"You think I don't know that, Garlean? You think he doesn't know that?"

"If you're willing to let me fill in so he can rest, at the very least you'll be no worse off than before. I can't use aether, but there are other things I can do which are arguably just as effective." She glanced at the tent flap, towards the long line of people she knew still waited outside to be seen. "And if I might be so bold, you are hardly in a position to turn away help where it's offered. You're understaffed as it is and your conjurer here is about two patients away from succumbing to aether depletion. He'll be of little use to you or any of that lot in that state."

The woman stared at her in incredulous silence, long enough to make Aurelia wonder if she'd pushed too hard trying to make her case--then Léonie let out a short, dry laugh.

"Aye, you're a chirurgeon, all right. I know that voice when I hear it. Think you that imperial medicine is superior to our savage healing magicks, then, medicus?"

"Not superior; merely different. I am not so foolish as to claim otherwise. But healing magicks still have mortal limits, limits with which I am well familiar. ...Hells below," Aurelia cursed, "if I just had a bloody field kit! There's so much more I could do with the proper tools. But I know how we can start-"

"All right! All right." The Elezen's gaze wavered between Aurelia and Edwin, and she tapped her index finger thoughtfully against her chin for a long moment before appearing to come to a decision. "Sergeant, on your way to your lie-down kindly inform your commander I've conscripted her prisoner until we've more hands available to process wounded."

"But-"

"She's right. You need rest." She shook her head with a rueful sigh. "As for you, Garlean: you'll stay off your feet, understand? That leg of yours won't heal properly if you aggravate it. The brass're going to have kittens but Twelve help me, I'd take a godsdamned barber as things stand now."

"Hopefully I'll be rather more use to you than a barber. Speaking of which, if Sparrow's still about," Aurelia said, "I have an idea."

~*~

Bryngeim Ahrmbraena had not yet sought her bed. She sat alone, standing vigil over one small corner of the infirmary tents, her hand clasped gently over a set of bandage-swaddled fingers; he had not stirred at her touch, but he still breathed, at least for the time being. She startled, briefly, when a hand touched her shoulder, and hastily swiped a forearm across her eyes before deigning to acknowledge it.

"...No change, I assume?"

"None. Has Sparrow already taken the prisoner?"

"No, Storm Captain Brudevelle's put her to work in the surgery."

"....Has that woman lost aught's left of her mind? An imperial prisoner, working in the infirmary? With our wounded?"

"She's a healer-"

"Well do you know she probably claimed such to spare herself," Bryn snapped. "If I have to have Sparrow drag her into the pens through the mud, I will."

There was a long silence, and then she heard him heave a heavy, tired sigh.

"Beg pardon, ma'am, but you can't. Captain Brudevelle invoked the conscription clause."

Cursing, Bryn laid her commander's hand down on his coverlet, stood, and exited the tent with Edwin trailing behind.

As she approached the surgery she heard the clamor of voices coming from the nearby surgery tent. Mouth tight with displeasure, she increased her paces. And stopped mid-step, staring nonplussed at the sight of Cheerful Sparrow with the Garlean prisoner in his arms, her splinted leg braced against one of his broad shoulders and covered with a blanket. She carried in her lap a pile of cloth strips, the same ones they'd used to mark the fields that had been searched.

"Tie this around her wrist," she was instructing one of the men sitting on the ground, passing over a strip of yellow cloth. "Make sure it can be easily seen when next the chirurgeons make their rounds. If her condition worsens, give a shout."

Bryn's jaw, which had been hanging slack, snapped shut again as she regained her voice. "Sparrow, what in the seven hells-"

"You'll have to take it up with Léonie, Bryn." Sparrow looked apologetic, but he didn't back down. The Garlean woman in question looked some cross between embarrassed and uncomfortable, not that Bryn was particularly minded as to an imperial's comfort, all told. "Prisoner's been conscripted for infirmary duty."

"She can't-"

"Before you start taking your man to task, Captain Ahrmbraena, you've a perfectly good chirurgeon you were about to send to the pens when we're criminally undermanned." Léonie Brudevelle was another veteran of the Levy, albeit not one Bryngeim knew terribly well, but the woman's no-nonsense demeanor had earned her the run of the camp infirmaries -- in this case, infirmary singular; the medical corps hadn't been spared the vagaries of calamity any more than the rest of them. She'd apparently heard the argument and was approaching now, a potion in one hand. "She'll be of far more use here - under my supervision - than she will sitting about waiting for a tribunal to decide her fate."

Bryn's expression was one of deep consternation.

"Go on, then," Léonie said, a trifle impatiently. "We've got things well in hand. Go back to your man -- don't give me that look, Bryn; I know full well you came from Captain L'sazha's bedside."

"...Wait."

The sudden interjection, sharp and just a little strangled, came from the woman in Cheerful Sparrow's arms.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but did... you just say 'Captain L'sazha?' "

"Aye, what of it?"

"He's... is he from Limsa Lominsa or-"

"Most of us what's in the Levy ain't from these parts, lass," Sparrow explained. "We're all 'venturers, most of us, or independent privateers. I don't rightly know if he ever told us where he's from and we have a policy not to ask. ...But most of us know an Ala Mhigan accent when we hear one."

"I see," she said weakly. Her skin, already very fair, had gone the color of chalk. She looked shocked and frightened, as though she'd seen a ghost-- or heard of one.

Bryn's eyes narrowed suspiciously. And just what would one of the Emperor's finest be knowing of a freelancer in the Lominsan navy?

"I-" she began, then glanced at Léonie, "could I... could I please go with Captain Ahrmbraena for a moment? I'll be right back. I'm sorry, but there's something I need to confirm."

The chirurgeon considered this, then said:

"You've as long as it will take us to finish preparations here, that's a half-bell at the outside. Make it a quarter if you can. I'll grab a couple of warm bodies so we can continue in your absence."

"My thanks."

She passed the makeshift wristbands over to the Elezen woman, who continued on her way down the line. For his part Cheerful Sparrow could only be grateful that looks could not indeed kill, else the thassalocracy might have sought Bryngeim Ahrmbraena's talent for that feat alone. The chilly, furious gaze she leveled on the woman in his arms could have frozen pig iron to a glacier.

"I know not," she said, in a low and dangerous voice, "what game you think you're playing at, imperial, but so help me I will call the wrath of everyone in this camp down upon you if this is some absurd attempt to escape, do you understand?"

Making a noise that was somewhere between a hiss and a snarl, she pivoted about on one heel and stormed back towards the hospital pavilions, leaving the others to follow.

~*~

The Roegadyn woman had already taken up her seat at the cot and bedroll when Sparrow arrived with his burden. Looking this way and that, he hooked his ankle around a nearby stool and carefully set the prisoner down atop it, the exhaled and sank to the floor with a grimace, trying to work the knots out of his back. Not that it was the girl's fault but he was rather beginning to feel like a draft chocobo.

Got to see about findin' the lass a way to get around the camp without me...

But all of that was forgotten when he heard the soft catch of breath in the Garlean's throat. Even Bryn looked startled, though she recovered quickly, her scowl back in place as she spat back:

"Don't you dare ask what happened to him. It's the same as what happened to every bloody one else. He got near cooked alive trying to save his people from the same fate. He's been lying like this for hours. If you're waiting for him to wake up, the conjurers say it's not like to happen."

Rather than rise to that anger, Aurelia reached across the cot and very carefully ran her fingers through the Miqo'te's dark brown hair, one thumb stroking the soft outer fur on his good ear. He'd been seared by Bahamut's flames, and his chest and most of his face were a half-charred mess. Much of the surrounding skin was as white as marble.

"I didn't know he'd defected. I thought he had found someone else," she said, her voice trembling. "After a year, he... his letters stopped coming. I tried to find out what had become of him but the- the army, they wouldn't-"

-and then the cracked, hoarse groan from the man in the bed drew their attention.

Aurelia had treated more than her share of burn victims; immolation was a common infantry hazard. The worst case she'd ever seen up until now had been a Scorpio pilot who'd lost control of the vehicle during a war game gone awry. Due to inexperience, he had overcorrected himself and rolled the warmachina. One of its fuel lines had ruptured in the process, spraying him with ceruleum moments before the vehicle caught fire. Her team had dragged the poor man shrieking from the remains of his cockpit. Although he'd survived, the burns had gone deep enough to leave him blinded and disfigured, and he'd been retired due to his injuries.

Sazha was somehow worse. His right ear had been burned almost completely away, and the eye that cracked open on that side was naught but a soup, not the deep and beautiful emerald she recalled so well. But the other looked just as she remembered, and it centered first on Bryngeim, the pupil blown wide from darkness or shock, she wasn't sure which.

"Seven," Aurelia jen Laskaris whispered, beneath the sting of her tears. "Bloody ridiculous name, that."

That gaze shifted towards the sound of her voice even as his good ear flickered under her fingers, the half-shut eyelids flaring the barest ilm wider in clear recognition.

"Relia," he croaked, a parched whisper from lips that barely moved.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched something like hurt flash across the other woman's eyes. Aurelia, wishing to spare the Captain her blushes, made no remark upon it and instead continued running her thumb over his ear as though she had seen nothing else but her old friend. His brow was cool and clammy, his breath rattling.

"Captain Ahrmbraena and her men rescued me from the battlefield, after the moon fell." The smile she offered him felt false and strained. "...I've been taken prisoner, but it's not so bad. They've just put me to work in the surgery, that's all, you've no call to worry. So... so you just rest, all right?"

His throat worked as he swallowed.

"Elle said.. Garlemald had to have you," he whispered. "Not who you were."

"Neither of us are sixteen any longer, old friend. You grew up, and so did I." She glanced at Bryngeim, who did not hold his hand so much as support it in her much larger ones, her palms enfolding his bandaged fingers as gently as the wings of a bird, and when Aurelia looked into the woman's brown eyes she understood at last, and this time her smile was more genuine. "So... you and the Captain, eh?"

He blinked at her, looking something close to guilty.

"It's all right," she said gently. "I'm happy for you."

"Sorry you got... in this mess."

"None of this was your fault, Sazha. None of it."

No answer. She leaned over him, careful not to touch any of the bandaging or exposed burns, and kissed him on a small patch of untouched skin above his good eye.

"I've got to go back to the surgery. Be good for the Captain," she said, somewhat hoarsely, and moved to signal for Sparrow-

"Relia."

She looked back over one shoulder. Captain Ahrmbraena was crying openly now, her hair spilling over his chest. Sazha's good eye glistened bright and wet in his ruined face.

"Elle was wrong about you," he rasped. "You've a light in you still. Use it. Too late for me. Not everyone."

For those you can save. Grief sat in her chest like a rock. She wanted to say something, anything, that could help. Do anything that could help, but she had known just by looking at him that he was beyond saving. Bryngeim was right; her people were responsible for this tragedy, and she was responsible, and there was nothing she could do that could possibly undo what had been done.

All she could do was try to atone.

For those who had been lost.

For those she could yet save.

"I promise, Sazha," she whispered. "I'll save them. As many as I can. I promise."

The sounds of his lover's grief still echoed in her ears long after she had fled his bedside.

~*~

           (in the end, all she ever remembers are the stars in the sky. falling.)

[mysticmikalla]

I GOT A HEADCANON FOR GODMIKALLA: The RFA’s reaction to Yoosung commiting suicide

*TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE, DEPRESSION, SELF HARM*

Yall i could barely write this bc my vision was blurry with tears, there was a lump in my throat all throughout writing and editing this but I hope you all enjoy it, and please don’t read if if you feel it might trigger you!

Now there is  a gaping whole in my chest so deep, someone please recommend me some Yoosung fluff so I can get over this pain

***

They were too late.

By the time Seven found him, his pulse was barely there and his last breaths were being taken. The white tile of the bathroom floor was now painted red with tears, blood and water.

The image of his friend’s stained and lifeless body, face frozen with pain and despair was Seven’s new haunting. The hacker had gone to check on him after a day of inactivity from the blond boy, and what he found was enough to shake their little organization forever.

Saeyoung was powerless and he felt his friend’s life dripping out of him by the wrists

“No, no, no, no,” He rushed towards his body, ripping a piece of his shirt and tightening it around his bleeding wrists, hoping to stop the oozing of warm, red liquid, “What did you do?! Yoosung, wake up. Please wake up!” He pleaded, but the body in his arms was unresponsive.

He broke every single traffic rule by rushing him to the hospital, but by the time he got there, Yoosung Kim was no more.

The news of his death spread like wildfire through the RFA. Saeyoung Choi had no memory of typing the words with shaky hand in the chatroom, his mind switching to automatic mode as the shock of what had just happened paralyzed him.

He was able to take in the member’s expression as they arrived one by one in the hospital, one more horrified than the other.

The first one to arrive was Zen, followed closely by V, and then Jaehee and Jumin, who arrived together.

Please let this be a prank. Please let this be one of Seven’s horrible pranks. Please.

No matter how much they silently prayed, the cooling body of their friend on the hospital bed was no prank. As the RFA gathered around in the lobby, trying to make sense of what happened, why it had happened, they all felt a deep emptiness as the space the gamer usually took up beside Seven was empty. There was one too few members, the sight of Yoosung’s usually colorful attire and bleached hair nowhere to be seen.

The organization wasn’t complete anymore, and it would never be again.

The silver-haired man had a lump so big in his throat, he could barely speak. The actor had never know greater pain than this, than losing one of his closest friends.

Memories of all the times he spent with him burned a whole in his mind. Memories that were supposed to be cheerful ones were now forever tainted. All the times Yoosung had looked up to him, the nights he would come to Zen for advice and they would end up getting drunk together slowly tortured him. The realization that he would never get to scold him, laugh and joke with him, eat his horrible-but improving- food finally sunk in, and Zen realized he had just lost his little brother.

The sight of him breaking down right there in the middle of the busy lobby was what triggered the rest of their reactions. Jaehee clamped her hands over her mouth in disbelief, shoulders shaking lightly as she sobbed. V felt his knees growing weak, and had to lean on Jumin for both physical and emotional support. But Jumin wasn’t doing any better. No matter how much he searched, he could not find the right words to say. There were no right words.

Seven just stood there, hands trembling and mind blank. Images of Yoosung’s dimpled smile and the last expression of pain he ever wore tortuously clashing in his mind, and he wanted nothing more than for his mind to stop. He needed it to stop.

As soon as she got home, and for weeks after, Jaehee frantically reread previous chat logs from when the boy was still alive. She was horrified with herself as she read all the things she had said to him, how she ignored Zen and Seven’s constant teasing of him and said some harsh things she thought to be true at the time. Had this been it? Was it because of the things they mindlessly said to him? Was it because of her constant comparison to Zen that felt he wasn’t good enough?

The guilt she felt was tremendous, and for days she shook with sobs, the absence of the blond boy being much greater than she could have possibly imagined. They had never been too close, Jaehee and him, and yet he was always there, cheering her on during her endless work hours. Even though he was innocent and naive, Jaehee found comfort in his late night words as he played LOLOL and she worked.

Yoosung, please come back. I promise I’ll be better to you. Please come back, please…

But it was no use pleading, which made it all the more frustrating.

His death hadn’t really sunk in for Jumin until after the funeral. All  of his family and the RFA members gathered, with the exception of the redhead. Everyone mourned the loss of the once bright and lively Yoosung, who’s last moments and words would forever remain unknown.

It would take months, no, years for the businessman to stop thinking about his old friend daily. Logically, he knew that there was nothing he could have done. He knew that suicide and mental illnesses such as depression went beyond his comprehension, but he couldn’t help himself from wondering.

Was there anything I could have done? Perhaps if I had been more persistent with that internship or made him a better offer, he wouldn’t have felt the need to do what he did?

Maybe the just needed something to look forward to?

Jumin’s memory was sharp, and he could recall all the times Yoosung whined about being feeling helpless, how he could never succeed and have the life Jumin had.

And it clicked for him then. Yoosung wasn’t whining, he was crying for help. All those times he talked about how he hated the life he had, that he wasn’t good enough or motivated enough to do anything, he wasn’t whining. He was seeking help from them, wanting desperately for someone to come for him. But nobody came. Nobody was there to support him.

And now he was gone.

Nobody saw Jumin’s tears. He made sure to mourn for his friend in the privacy of his home. He attempted to use work as an escape from those painful thoughts, but his mind kept wandering back to the blond.

“Help me… help me. Why couldn’t you help me, Jumin? Why weren’t you there when I needed all of you?”

V’s mind worked similarly with his friend’s. But as an old habit of his, Jihyun dug up every conversation, call, texts and interactions the two had ever shared and found fault in them, and found fault in himself. The mint-haired man could not sleep for weeks. The second he closed his eyes, he would see him. He would notice all the things he couldn’t before; how empty his eyes were, how forced his smile seemed. He appeared to have lost some weight and it was evident wouldn’t really go out anymore, just lock himself up in the solitude of his home.

Yoosung’s long sleeve shirts and sweater during the summer should have been indication enough.

He should have known. He should have fucking seen his pain! Jihyun should have been there for him, supported him instead of just brushing over the boy’s pain. The warning signs were there, they were written all over the chatroom and his expressions.

How could he have missed it? How could he have been so selfish and not cared about those close to him enough to save them? How could he fail everyone he loved?

“V,” Jumin would try to sound as collected as possible for his friend, but his own guilt was heavy in his voice, “You know it isn’t your fault.”

Jihyun would nod at his words, but not listen. It didn’t matter how much he blamed himself or not, Yoosung was not coming back.

Seven only visited his grave months after his death. He had seen his cold and lifeless eyes, he had picked his limp body up and felt his pulse disappear, but Saeyoung would not accept what had happened. He had known Yoosung for years, and there was just no way he could accept that he was longer there.

It couldn’t be? Suicide? Impossible. Yoosung would never…He wouldn’t…He can’t have…!

But he did.

The truth tormented the hacker with a million knives to his heart whenever he thought of him. He tried to imagine his last thoughts. How much pain did someone have to be in to go through with that?, he wondered.

Yoosung always had such soft and smooth skin, and he hated getting hurt. Did he suffer a lot as the razor made contact with his skin?

Was he scared? Oh, God, he was scared, the poor boy was terrified. He was so scared and alone, and his cries wouldn’t reach anybody’s ears.

“He was alone,” He sobbed, kneeling in front of his grave, the rock that settled in his chest getting heavier and heavier with each passing second, “He was alone…You were alone…I’m sorry, Yoosung, I’m sorry. Please come back. I’m so fucking sorry.”

For weeks the RFA chatroom was quiet. Nobody wanted to disturb the logs, the only thing Yoosung’s death hadn’t reached. In those logs, he was still alive and smiling.

The first few days after his death, everyone was pointlessly hoping to see the familiar Yoosung has entered the chatroom, but it never came. It would never come again.

His emojis and texting style were now abandoned, but Seven refused to get rid of them. He refused to remove his old account from the app.

“He’s still part of the RFA,” He insisted with a shaky voice as he took a break in between sobs, “He’ll always be a part of the RFA, I can’t remove him, I can’t…He needs to be able to log in when he comes back.”

Jaehee held back tears as she saw her friend start to fall apart, “Luciel…He’s not-He’s not coming back.”

“He is! I know he he. He wouldn’t leave us-” His words were swallowed by a violent sob erupting from his throat, “He wouldn’t leave us without saying goodbye.”

There was no note, no nothing.

The last thing Yoosung had ever said in the chatroom was a, “I’ll be going now!”, and they couldn’t help but wonder…was this it? Had he already decided do leave this world when typed those words?

Yoosung hadn’t even said goodbye to his friend in LOLOL. He just logged out one day without a word and never came back, leaving his friends to wonder what happened to Superman Yoosung.

They would never know that he was found dead in his bathtub mere hours later.

And perhaps it was better that they didn’t know. They could forever remember him as the happy-go-lucky Yoosung, always positive and supportive of everyone.

And that happy-go-lucky boy would never smile again. He’d never share his jokes and thoughts with anyone, he’d never get to experience the joys that came with the inevitable hardships of adulthood. He would never have his first kiss or a first love, and Yoosung would never get married. He never got to travel the world and see new things like he wanted to.

His life was cut too short, his sadness burying him so deep, nobody could reach him anymore.

What pained his loved one the most was just that fact. If only he held on a little longer, if only they paid more attention to him, if only they hadn’t said certain things…He could have had it all. He could have made it through those tough times and reached the good ones, the happy times.

If, if, if…

Their most despised word. The word that haunted and drove them to the brink of madness with those endless thoughts of unexplored possibilities of an alternate universe.

But the truth still remained the same;

Yoosung was gone. There were no if’s about it.

***Hey guys so another lil author’s note here. This was by far the heaviest thing I’ve ever written, it hit so close to home. And I hate the thought that there are probably some of you who feel the same way or have these same thoughts and I would be beyond heartbroken if you guys don’t get the help of support you need!

So I’ll link some hotlines here that I found to be really helpful if you ever need to talk to someone or seek help. I know this is super cliché, but you are definitely not alone, and there are so many people who love you and would miss you if you were gone.

And it does get better. It really does, so even if you feel like the world is crushing you now, please just hang on a little longer. I promise it will get better.

Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433

Masterlist of other possible helplines you may need

Stay safe and smiling!!

[urdearestmom]

you’ll be okay too

part 1

this is a follow-up to that sad prompt oneshot i wrote a few weeks ago bc everyone asked for one so here it is!! hope you guys enjoy it and if you haven’t read the first part the link is right above!

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The heart monitor is steady, the complete opposite of Nancy's own heartbeat as she sits at Mike's bedside. Hopper had gotten a hold of her as soon as he could and she had taken Joyce's car to the hospital, promising to update the others in the morning so they could get a few hours of sleep before making their way over as well. She'd sat with the Chief and an especially quiet and morose El for a while until a doctor came into the waiting room and announced, "Michael Wheeler?"

The younger girl had immediately jumped up, desperate to see her boyfriend, but the doctor had stopped her with a "Family only, miss." She'd slinked back into her seat and Nancy saw tears in her eyes.

"Hey, El, it'll be fine," she reassured her. "I'll check on him and come back in a bit to talk to you guys, okay?"

The other girl sniffed and nodded meekly. Nancy had looked back at the doctor, waiting expectantly to lead her to her brother, and followed him with her heart in her throat.

She'd stayed with Mike for about ten minutes, not really allowing herself time to think about the gravity of the situation, before going back out to the waiting room to relay his condition to El and Hopper, but the two of them weren't allowed in the room until regular visiting hours started at nine in the morning. It was only four. That led her to her current predicament: sitting in a room alone with her hopefully recovering brother and trying not to cry.

God. Nancy's been told that for now, Mike is stable, but it all depends on whether he makes it through the night or not. She knows the doctors did what they could, and the one who'd spoken to her told her that Hopper's makeshift tourniquet and speedy trip to the hospital had saved Mike's life. But it only drives home the fact that he could've died tonight. He almost did, if Hopper and El had found him a few minutes after they did it would've been too late. And Nancy also knows that she wasn't the best sister growing up, probably still isn't, but that doesn't mean she doesn't love her little brother. If he'd died she would've never been able to forgive herself for letting him get so involved in this mess.

(Logically, she's aware that nothing she could've done would've stopped him from leaving with El. His heart belongs to her and her only, and everyone knows he'll follow her to the ends of the earth if he has to. But Nancy has to have someone to blame and usually it's herself.)

She doesn't know what she'll say to their parents to explain this. Mike's missing an arm, for god's sake! They don't even know she's come back to town, but she guesses it'll be both a happy and nasty surprise when she calls them later. With that thought, she lays her head on the bed next to where her hand is joined with Mike's and closes her eyes. Nancy hasn't been to church in years and isn't even sure if she believes in the religion she was raised with, but she's going to pray all the prayers she remembers until she can't anymore.

She ends up falling asleep and is awoken a little before six by a jerking motion beside her head and the heart monitor next to the bed going crazy. She snaps her head up to see that Mike is awake, but he looks terrified. His breathing is erratic and so is his heartbeat, going by the monitor. Moments later, a pair of nurses rushes into the room. They both start flitting around him, checking all the machines and trying to restrain him.

Nancy watches in shock as her brother's eyes bulge and his throat works, words struggling to escape. She's never seen him like this. At this point, he's just making guttural noises and attempting to push the nurses away, but he can't do that really well since he hasn't realized he's missing half of one of his arms yet. He sees his sister sitting by the bedside and it's when he registers that it's her that a raspy, "Nancy," rips out of his throat.

She stands suddenly and he immediately relaxes, the nurses pushing him back into the mattress. "We need you to stay calm, Michael," one of them says. "Can you do that for us?"

Mike looks at her and confusion spreads across his face, as if he's just now noticing that he's in a hospital. "What am I doing here?"

"Michael-"

His head whips back to Nancy. "Where's El?"

Nancy's mouth opens to speak but words don't come out. He's just woken up in a hospital with half an arm gone and his concern is his girlfriend. Of course it is-

"Where's El?!" He asks again, voice louder. He's starting to push back against the nurses again, as if he's going to get out of the bed and go searching for El himself. "Where- Nancy, where is she?!"

Nancy doesn't know why she can't answer. Her voice suddenly isn't working. Maybe it's shock at seeing Mike the way he is right now, disoriented, hurt, and angrier than ever. Maybe her vocal cords just decided to stop functioning. But whatever it is, it isn't helping. Mike starts screaming, mostly unintelligible words, but Nancy makes out a few very violent "Let me go!"s before the other nurse sticks a needle in his good arm and Mike goes out again.

Her breath returns to her in a sharp gasp and she walks back toward his bed. She hadn't noticed that she'd stepped away. The first nurse turns to her. "Who's El?"

Nancy stares at her unconscious brother for a moment before looking up at the woman. "His girlfriend," she answers, voice stilted.

The nurse raises her eyebrows. "Is she in the waiting room?"

"Yes." Nancy swallows. "She and her dad are the ones who brought him here. El Hopper," she adds.

"Martha," the nurse says, addressing the other one, "Maybe we should go get her? If he wakes up again and she's not here... I don't want that happening twice, the strain won't be good on him."

Martha nods. "I'll be right back." She exits the room quickly, leaving Nancy with the other woman.

"I'll be by again in about fifteen minutes to give you a rundown, alright?" She says.

Nancy nods numbly and sits back down in her previous seat. Now that Mike's asleep again, she lets her shock take her over and feels a pricking in her eyes. He woke up, but he could have not. And what would she have done then? She pretends she doesn't like him most of the time because that's just how most sibling relationships are, but the truth is that Mike is one of the most important people in her life and a part of her would have died with him.

Moments later, El herself is escorted into the room by Martha and Nancy watches as the teen girl's eyes widen and fill with water, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. She's shaking like a leaf during a storm when she stops on the other side of Mike's bed. Nancy traces the sound through the air when El lets out a loud sob and reaches down to cradle Mike's face in her hands.

"He's okay," she cries. "Oh my god..." Her cheeks are soaked with fresh tears and she leans down to carefully set her head on Mike's chest as if to hear his heartbeat and confirm that he really is okay.

Nancy feels numb as she sits and watches the two. She knows the amount of love her brother has for the girl in front of her, and she can see that El returns all of it and then some. It would have been a grievous mistake for the universe to rip them away from each other.

El stays like that for a little while longer before standing and walking to Nancy’s side of the bed, where she wraps the older girl in a tight embrace. They clutch each other like the world will end if they let go, seeking an almost unattainable comfort in one another.

El leans away, her face blotchy and wet. “Are you okay?”

Nancy feels even more like she’s going to cry. She gives a hiccupy little laugh. “Why are both of you so concerned with everyone but yourselves?”

El gives her a confused look.

“Mike,” Nancy starts, “He woke up and the only thing he cared about was where you were. I think he was trying to leave to go find you but the nurses stopped him. He didn’t notice that- that his arm’s gone!”

El’s confusion turns to a muted joy for a moment before returning to her previous sadness. “I never should have let him come.”

Nancy reaches up to rub the other girl’s shoulder, trying to offer the consolation she cannot give herself. “It’s not your fault, you know he would’ve followed you as soon as you left. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

El sighs and sinks into the end of the bed, hunching over with her face in her hands. “I know you’re right, but I just… it could have been so much worse, Nancy. You didn’t see him when we found him, he was dying! There was blood- everywhere I looked,” she chokes out. “I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of my life.”

Nancy shakes her head and reaches out for El’s hands to grasp. She focuses on the younger’s eyes intently. They shine brightly with unshed tears but they hold her gaze, so Nancy finds the words she needs to speak. “We’re all going to have nightmares, it’s expected with the things we’ve been through,” she says, rubbing her thumbs across El’s knuckles like she used to spy Mike doing when his love was stressed. “But we’re also all here for you when you need us. Mike might not be in the best shape right now but he will be better, and everyone knows he’s never going to leave you. You’ll both be there for each other because he needs you just as much as you need him. Do you understand?”

El blinks at her and Nancy listens to their breaths suck in and puff out for a moment before El nods. “He’ll get better. We’ll be okay.”

“You will, El,” Nancy says, and somehow the firmness of her statement brings her a slight sense of calm. She’s certain now that it’ll be okay for her too. “It’ll take a while, but one day, you’re going to be so happy that you’ll forget any of this ever happened, even if it’s just for that day.”

“Like grief. It never goes away, you just learn to deal with it and kind of forget it, right?” El asks, now having let go of one of Nancy’s hands and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Nancy grips her other hand tightly, looking away and feeling the lump rise in her throat again. “Exactly.”

El squeezes back. “You’ll be okay too, Nancy.”

Nancy offers a weak smile. She’ll be okay too.      

[icarusofstars-blog]

(  A/N: I just want my favorite Marvel ship to date to be happy together (or be trying to be happy together). Unfortunately this will only happen in my brain. Alas, I can dream....and write sometimes, I guess. First time writing fic in a long time, hope everyone is in character! Feel free to request and give me ideas.  )

                                praying on bruised knees / ao3 link 

Claire is a shitty Catholic. She hasn’t been to Church in a long time. It’s not ranked very high on her list of priorities, which she thinks God will understand considering her newfound path in life. She lives in a constant state of chaos to some degree. Which is totally her choice, so she isn’t complaining, it just is what it is. Going to confession hasn’t seemed all that important when some days she’s fighting for her life.

Matt, all things considered, is the poster boy of Catholicism. Including the rampant guilt, but she’ll leave that alone. The point is he’s a constant example of faith that occasionally gets her thinking. Like on sleepy Sunday morning when she feels the bed get colder because he crawls out of it, leaving sweet kisses on her face and the promise that he’ll be back later. Sometimes she watches him get ready on those mornings. Usually she just mumbles something unintelligent and goes back to sleep, only waking when Matt comes back, the sun already high in the sky and with a coffee for her in hand.

Claire is the type to not need to go out of her way to pray in grand buildings to feel satisfied with her connection to God. Her connection to God comes in the form of recovering patient’s, grateful families, and sometimes, peaceful departures. Her work has the grace of God involved every step of the way. Whether she actively thinks about it or not. He’s always there, guiding her steady hands and giving her the strength she needs so that she may help others. There’s no need to search for him. To seek him out.

So she doesn’t go to Midnight Mass and she certainly doesn’t drag herself from bed after working double shifts so she can cram herself into a Subway car and want to die when on the seventh day God rested, and thus, so will she. That being said, Matt does have her thinking. She finds herself hesitating outside of Church gates when she passes them on walks. She catches herself making silent, tiny prayers more and more often.

Last night Matt stumbled home half dead which should be no surprise to her but he’d been doing so well since they moved in together. He was being so careful for her. Almost as if he was trying to make sure she’d stay, if just for a little while. The fact that he’d come home bruised and bloody doesn’t make her any less sure of the progression of their relationship. Despite the brief moment of peace she knew what a committed relationship with Matt would entail. She wanted this and she’ll deal with all of it. She’s not running away this time and he…..Matt does his best not to hide, to try and not scare her off.

It doesn’t mean that he hadn’t scared her shitless last night, though. He’s scared her before and he’ll scare her again, and again, and again. That’s dating a hero. That’s dating a man who wants to save the world. That’s dating a man who is learning to care about himself, if not for his own sake, than for the people who love him. He’s doing better but he’ll always be Matt Murdock. It’s why Claire loves him, and she’d known it for awhile. It had been a quiet and creeping realization that she has mostly kept to herself. Last night it had been the only thought in her head, deafening and heart-stopping ( i love you, i love you, i love you, i love y— ).

He’s in no real condition to go out again so soon but there’s a girl out there who needs him. A kidnapping and the kidnappers won’t get lucky this time, he swears to her. But he needs to do this and there is someone out there in the world who really needs a hero right now. Who needs the devil of Hell’s Kitchen to live up to his namesake. So he’d gone to work this morning to save the world the legal way ( but only after Claire told Foggy to watch out for their idiot, which he’d strongly objected to ) and tonight he’ll go out to try and save a damsel in distress. He needs to do that. Claire knows that.

But she’s scared. Plain and simple, she’s scared. There’s no point in lying to herself. Which is how she found herself knelt in front of Matt’s closet, with the case that hides the Daredevil suit pulled out in front of her. She feels nervous. She feels silly and she feels way more than a little stupid. She also feels like she needs to do this and so she pops open the case and brings the folded suit to sit neatly in her lap. The helmet she holds for a second, just staring, before that too, is placed on her lap, her hands clasp together over it, the horns dig into the sides of her wrist.

“I haven’t done this in a long time so bare with me.” she licks her lips, trying to think of what she wants to say, exactly, “but I need you, right now, and so does he.” She shifts to get more comfortable, still trying to shake off the feeling of being ridiculous. Of feeling childish to need to get how she feels out in any way she can. She feels like a little girl who rode her bicycle into the street too fast and too soon and is now desperately looking back towards her Father for guidance because she doesn’t know to break yet —

Fitting, she thinks dryly, we’re all God’s children.

“I need you to watch out for him. I know you’re probably already doing that since he’s still alive and he definitely shouldn’t be, at this point but I….. I know there are a lot of people in the world who need you and your protection but I...don’t ask for much. I try to get by on my own. I know I can get by on my own. Not for this though. I — I love him and I want him safe. As safe as you can get him.”

Her hands unclasp, moving just to hold Matt’s helmet close to her, ignoring how the horns dig into the soft flesh of her stomach, uncomfortably. “I’m not asking for any miracles here. I know what kind of world we live in. It’s dangerous, and shitty, and Matt’s stubborn but I….. he does so much for everyone else. No matter what it costs him and I don’t want it to cost him his life. I don’t know if I could ….take that. Not right now. I just got him and I’d like to keep him, bullshit and all.”

There are tears stinging her eyes and crying isn’t a weakness but she wipes at them viciously before they can fall. “If you do your part I’ll do mine?” is her feeble offering, spoken around an even more fragile quirk of her lips, “well, amen.”

The room is deadly silent for a moment. Claire is still clutching onto Matt’s armor as if trying to sink all the love and protectiveness she feels into the suit itself and not just place them at the feet of God, hoping that he’s listening. She wants so badly for a sign, in that moment. She wants a sign that she’s been heard more than almost anything else she’s ever wanted before, which is an extensive list. For most of those things she hasn’t been on her knees, near tears but —

“Claire?” Matt’s quiet voice shocks her out of her quiet reverie, bended head snapping up at the same time her eyes snap open. The helmet goes tumbling out her arms in shock.

“Matt I-” She’s already trying to put the suit back into the case but her hands are shaking a little because she is so ( startled? embarrassed, god when did he come in? What did he hear? She feels so stupid all over again ) —

When she looks up at his face the expression stops her. Stops her thoughts. Stops her shaking hands. Stops her fucking heart. It’s so vulnerable and open that it makes her feel numb. The way your leg feels after sitting on it too long. It’s a blissful feeling compared to the white-hot panic he’d just filled her with a second ago.

It’s silent again for a moment. Then he’s moving forward. He’s fast, kneeling in front of her, with her, before she can fully blink. His hands hover near her face for a split second like he can’t believe she’s real. Then he touches her, softly. She thinks he might kiss her until his forehead is pressed against hers tightly and his eyes close and this is — better she thinks, better than kissing, and her hands come to hold his, where they’re holding onto her.

“I didn’t think you were gonna be home for awhile.” She says, lamely, after she lets him just hold her. His eyes, milky brown, flutter open slowly at the sound of her voice and one of his hands moves from her cheek to clutch in her hair, shifting her closer, if possible.

“I was gonna take you out for lunch.” That makes her laugh, and it’s a little wet but she just shakes her head and shifts away, out of his grip. He starts to protest until she’s hugging him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck to breathe him in and steady herself. She’s hiding, too, something unusual for Claire Temple, the fucking night nurse, but even for her this is a lot.

Matt just kisses the top of her head, “ Claire I-”

“I love you.” She interrupts, heart hammering away in her chest. She knows he must've heard her say it the first time. That was different though, a conversation about him and not with him. “I love you and I just...want you safe.”

They slip into quiet again but she doesn’t feel panicked now. She’s back in control of the situation. She meant for him to hear what she said. No playing things off. No pretending she meant less than what she did. Cards on the table. Claire is a lot of things and none of those things is a coward. She grabs up one of his hands and brings it to her lips, kisses the busted knuckles with all the gentleness and care of a summer breeze. “I love you.”

He tucks his fingers under her chin, thumb brushing against her lips before he kisses her, just as kindly, and with a pinch of desperation, of sadness, because he can’t promise her his safety. Not when every day he walks out the door offering himself to the world like a sacrificial lamb. And they both know Claire doesn’t want empty promises or empty words. So he kisses her, kneeling on the floor in whatever amount of God’s presence that remains and tries to ease her pains and burdens like he tries to fix everything else wrong with the world.

[nightingaledarling]

FICLET: Lilac

Fandom: Samurai Love Ballad Party Timeline/Continuity: Canon (Post Act I) Pairing: Kirigakure Saizo/MC (unnamed) Genre: Angst Word Count: ~800 Rating: PG-13 Notes: Companion piece and Saizo POV to Gray. Why do I keep doing this?? @catchthespade, @frywen-babbles, @jemchew I’m sorry, but I’m an asshole and I want y’all to suffer with me.

He has never claimed to be a saint.

If he were a good man, he would never show his face in front of her again.

Perhaps then, the uncertainty and the shadows of doubt that define his very existence would follow, and she would no longer be touched by darkness. She would thrive in the light where she belongs, and he would force himself to accept this and be content with watching her from afar.

But in the end, it just takes one.

One little fracture in this farce they’ve imposed on themselves, one tiny crack that allows her pain to slip through. When he sees her kneeling in the rain, shaking and crying and grasping at rain ghosts in the mud, something inside him splinters and cracks, and his resolve to leave her be crumbles to dust. She has always been both his strength and his intractable weakness.

Can he really be blamed then, for wanting to be by her side? For wanting to comfort her and seek comfort in return?

He reaches out to hold her, she lashes out against him. He kisses her, she bites his lip hard enough to bruise. He pins her to the futon, she screams at him to leave her alone. Each of her rejections sting like a poison-tipped blade to his skin, slowly spreading through his senses until he feels like he’s choking on his own breath.

So he begs, begs with everything but his words, begs her to let him stay. Not forever, no. Just for now.

The fight melts out of her, and she goes slack in his arms before clutching at him like her very life depends on it. Maybe it does.

Or maybe, deep down, it’s his life that’s at risk. When he moves above her, sinking, pushing, drowning, he cannot mask his own urgency and desperation. He knows that he is wrong for her but she is so, so right for him. It’s selfish, but if it allows him the warmth of her body, the sweetness of her lips, he’s willing to damn the consequences and give himself up to her and maybe, just for a few brief moments, she can be his salvation.

Because if he is the gray of an overcast sky, she is the lilac at the dawn of a day, bringing new beginnings and hope and everything he shouldn’t have but but wants, wants, wants.

So he takes and takes, and while his conscience whispers guilt and self-hatred into his mind, he ignores it all.

He may not deserve this, may not deserve her. But he has never claimed to be a saint.

When he wakes that night, her fingers are gently sifting through his hair. He closes his eyes at the intimacy of it, letting himself have this quiet luxury before gazing up at her. She sits, still as death and just as silent, staring off into the dark, knees pulled up to her chest. Her free hand curls tightly around her shin, skin stretched white across her knuckles. She looks so small like this, so weary and resigned, and the sight tugs at him deep within his chest.

This is his doing, and his alone.

He reaches over to lace his fingers with the ones petting his hair and takes the chance to sit up, to gather her close, pressing the soft skin of her back into his chest. Don’t, she sighs, but she makes no move to push him away, and he only holds her closer. He hides his face in her hair, drawing his knees up around hers, fingertips digging into her with an impossibly tight embrace. He seeks contact with every inch of her like he’s trying to brand her into his skin.

She leans into him, turns her face toward his chest, lips pressed to his neck.

I hate you, she murmurs, defeated, and he tenses, his heart slowing. Not because he believes her, but because he knows it’s a lie. He almost wishes it were true.

Perhaps one day, when she grows tired of waiting, it will be.

And so he awaits and fears and prays and dreads the day she’ll decide to take her heart back. Maybe she’ll give it to someone else, or maybe she’ll lock it away forever, but no matter what she does with her own heart, his will always belong to her. Every second, every moment, every word and kiss-press-touch, he’ll take them all and hold them close, because even now he cannot make any promises.

It’s not perfect, this thing between them. It’s small and dark and fragile, and it’s not a matter of if it will break but when.

But for now, it is theirs, and in these quiet, fleeting moments... that’s enough.

[withbrighthope]

[Every New Year’s Eve I write a letter to my past self, and share a (mostly spoiler-free) look back at the previous year. This tradition invites me to deliberately seek God’s perspective and healthfully process the highs and lows of each year. I write these letters just for me and my heart, and they usually stay in my journal. But this year, I felt a prompting to share.] // To the Sarah of New Year’s Eve 2019, I know you. I know you hold so many questions in your heart.

I’d like to tell you that a year later you have more answers, but that’s not really true. What is true is that a year later, you have more peace, more rest for your soul.

We always saw 2019 as the year we dug a lot of furrows, and 2020 has been the year of developing underground roots. We can’t see them, but we trust they’re growing beneath the surface.

This year has broken a lot of hustle off of you, in all of the right ways. You’ve become a great rester, Sarah.

You have taken risks this year that were uncomfortable. You surprised yourself along the way with how readily you leaped into the freefall.

/

One area of your heart God has worked on this year is recognizing that sometimes other people will leave your story, with or without reason, but this doesn’t mean anything is wrong with you. We still don’t know or understand why, and maybe we never will. But you'll no longer need to know why to be okay. You will love those people and let them go. You will allow Jesus to carry all of the care you have for them you can’t act on anymore, and because Jesus is so faithful and good, He will keep it safe. Your heart won’t ever be wasted in Him. He’ll receive as an offering all the care you wish you could give to others. You will learn to hold godly hope for relational reconciliation in open hands.

Always remember: you are not anyone’s inability or indecision to love you.

/

This year will try your one healed heart in new ways. There will be days you wonder if you’ve misheard God, or missed your purpose. There will be days that expose such a strong feeling within you, that ‘either you’re valuable to God or you’re nothing.’

This tension will feel like a tug-of-war for a long time. And then, one day, you’ll realize it’s not only a belief in your head, but a conviction held deep within your heart; you’ll know that you know: you are valuable to God, and that’s enough. That’s everything.

/

In 2020, God will take you on a journey to realize one of the great gifts of being human is found in your feelings.

This is the year you’ll rediscover just how good it feels to laugh. You will laugh at such strange things. You will laugh at things that aren’t even objectively funny. It will catch you off-guard, but you’ll stay there in the moment and laugh until you cry, because it feels so good, and laughter is such a beautiful gift.

This is also the year the Lord will reveal most of the emotions you classify as “negative” are valuable in their own right. The Lord will ask you to sit with disappointment, so He can sit with you as Comforter, and for this reason you’ll realize disappointment, too, is a beautiful gift.

Next the Lord will show you all the times you’ve thought you controlled anger that you were really suppressing it. He’ll begin to reveal to you the mystery of holy rage. Anger is like gaining another color of emotion, and it’s going to add depth to the work God’s crafting in your life. It will even unlock the way to heal your back.

After 5.5 years of chronic back pain, you will go for a run without feeling it. You will hold tangible hope for your healing in your hands for the first time, and you’ll know that though you’re entering a journey, it won’t have to be an arduous one. That hope will make all the difference. (Would you believe me if I told you that sometimes when the sidewalk is wide open, you sprint just for fun? Freedom from pain will feel like freedom for your soul, and running will feel like flight. ((How good it feels to fly.)))

/

This year is going to test so many of your muscles. You will get stronger as you go, Sarah, but it will feel like muscle strain and failure in the process.

You will feel extremely isolated at times, and even alone. One night in July you’ll wake up crying and know instinctively it’s because you "haven’t been hugged in so long.” You will pray a desperate prayer and three weeks later God will answer it by sending a complete stranger to hug you – really hug you – in the middle of a pandemic. You will feel like God Himself is hugging you, and you will know you’ve been seen.

/

Spend a lot of time in nature this year, Little Heart. Get lost in the green. Climb ev’ry mountain. Stop and stare at the ocean every chance you get.

God will meet you.

This year, give and live from a generous heart. You will love the ways God uses the Body to support each other’s needs and wants this year. Being a part of it will bring you great meaning.

/

This year you won't hear God's voice a ton, but the end, you’ll wrestle your way into rest. You will trust you’ll know Him when He speaks. Until then, you will practice living on principle. Whenever you don’t have a rhema instruction, you’ll go back to foundational truths. You will further develop your personal Kingdom culture, and it will become so valuable to the way you live. Holy Spirit is here, too.

/

2020 will be a blessing to you in so many ways, Sarah. It won’t be easy, but its benefit will be great.

Live every moment. Stay present, even when you’d like for every aspect to look different than it does. When you feel lost or overwhelmed, quiet yourself and listen to your breath. You will find Him there. And this one day, this one moment you find yourself in is an incredible gift. This is where time touches eternity. This is where you encounter His presence, and He is everything.

He’s everything, and He’s worthy of it all.

Stay low. Stay honest. Stay in worship. Stay now. Stay in love. Stay.

You’re doing so well, Sarah. Jesus and I are so proud of you. With love, The Sarah You Are Becoming 12/31/20

[selenelavellan]

DVD commentary for the first Moon Goddess AU piece you wrote?

I did the whole first piece for you. It starts off all serious but it gets a bit silly further in, whoops.

Under the cut for length~

TheGoddess of the Moon has long been the most elusive member of thepantheon.

Mostof the other Gods make regular appearances, have standardinteractions with their priests and people, make their necessarydisplays of power and presence to yield more believers to their side.

Butnot the moon.

Sheis silent, when she interferes. Like the pull of the tide, steady andgradual and gone again as soon as you are acclimated to the change.

Hesees her the first time when his bird falls ill.

--

Ijust thought this sounded cool.

No,I  was thinking about mythos and gods and honestly my favorite mythsare the ones where gods are on pedestals and its like 'oh they'rehigh and mighty and powerful beyond belief' and then you meet themand it's more like 'wow cant believe the world hasnt completelyfallen apart if this is one of the people in charge of it the mythsare super wrong'. 

So I started the story with the way Selene would beperceived, the way people on earth would see her, the way they mightthink of her, because Dirthamen's POV is the one we're hooked into,and that's the version of her that he is familiar with. 

Shes comparedto water, her elemental antithesis, and described as distant andsilent, and all these other traits that she's just...not. Which givesroom for a perceived character growth, moving forward, and makes theevents with Dirthamen seem particularly unique.

–

Heprays to the Sun God first. Prays for guidance, pleads and promisesand tries to show how badly he wants Blackbird to recover, becausethat is what the Sun God responds to. Desires. He burns brightly,decked in gold that shines as brightly as his eyes, and is neverquiet in his plans. When he appears to Dirthamen, he offers a newbird, instead. He offers entire flocks of them, offers to let himlive in solitude in his lands with no responsibilities but those thathe chooses. So long as he becomes a priest of his, andobserves all of the rituals ascribed to that position.

ButDirthamen is not interested in more birds.

Hejust wants his bird.

TheSun God tsks, and sighs and says that is much too boring a wishfor him to bother with.

“Perhapsmy more restrained associate would be better for you to ask,” Headvises. “Try asking the Moon.”

SoDirthamen does.

–

HonestlyI just love writing Des a lot. Giving him unfettered power here wasGREAT, because he can instantly sate all of his desires and thosearound him, supposedly. But he's very much quantity over quality(more room for character growth, yay),  so when Dirthamen is like 'Idont actually want a hundred birds of super rare breeds if you couldjust heal this particular bird instead...'

Honestly,I imagine Thenvunin gets stuck with them all. He has like a light,wistful thought like 'gee more birds would be nice' and suddenly theSun God is there like 'HEY HAVE I GOT A DEAL FOR YOU :D!' and nowThenvunin has all of these rare breeds and he's like 'what a generousgod'

Butin the end Des is Des, and he's just like 'I dont want to deal withthis let someone else handle the repercussions.' also he's notactually great at healing or repairing things, his powers are betterat replacing them.

--

Hedoes his research, asks the few people he can find that are familiarwith her rituals what sort of things he needs, and gathers thenecessary ingredients.

Thefirst time he burns the candle in the bowl of water and prays,nothing happens.

Blackbirdgets sicker, and Dirthamen gets more desperate.

Whenhe tries it a second time the next night, only to find the sameresults, he seeks help in other places.

Itis in a very old tome, packed into the back of his adoptive parentslibrary, that he finds his answer.

TheGoddess of the Moon is at her strongest only when the moon is full.

Thatwill be three more nights, Dirthamen laments.

Still. 

Itis Blackbirds best hope.

Heretrieves more medicine to keep her alive, soothes the appropriatelotions into her wings, and tries to make her as comfortable aspossible while they wait.

Onthe night of the full moon, Dirthamen burns the candle in the basinof water, and prays again. He prays for Blackbirds health, for theGoddess’s assistance, for her mercy.

Hefalls asleep before the wick finishes burning.

–

Writingabout passing time is the WORST. I'm always worried i'm dragging itout or not representing it accurately and its like 'heres a paragraphabout absolutely nothing please dont close the tab' but this was ok,I think.

Ialso love the candle burning in a bowl of water. It's an actualcomponent of a spell my fiance has used, and I just thought thesymbol of the fire (for Actual Selene) being surrounded by water(Perceived Selene) was so gooooood. I still like that for her,honestly.

–

Whenhe wakes, the moon is still out, the stars still heavy in the sky.

Andthere is a woman in his bedroom, singing to Blackbird.

–

'Theresa strange woman in my room, singing to my sick bird. Should I dosomething? Naaah.'

Ilove Dirthamen so much I can just stick him in weird situations andhe'll just go along with it so long as theres no immediate danger itswonderful

–

Sheis very tall, long legs draped in sheer white cloth beneath goldenembroidered stars. Her hair is as pale as the moonlight, eyes brightas the green of the earth shining in the starlight. She sings aboutthe sky. About the stars, and the moon, and about love.

–

She'ssinging 'fly me to the moon', the Olivia Ong cover in particular, itsso gorgeous, I love it.

–

Dirthamensbreath catches in his throat when she turns to him.

–

Shetakes his breath away a lot, its such a good moment in movies thoughlike when theres that inhale and everything sort of stills for amoment while the love interest turns to look at the main character? Ilove that moment, I live for it, its cliché as hell and it gets meabsolutely every time.

--

“Sheshould be fine,” she assures him, placing Blackbird carefully backinto her cage. “You have taken very good care of her.”

“Thankyou,” he manages. Should he bow? He is unsure how to proceed. Noneof the readings or people he spoke to have ever mentioned her showingup in person. Only the final results of her assistance, or herassociates appearing in her stead for the grander favors. Perhaps hedid the ritual incorrectly? Perhaps there is an additional price topay for her assistance, now.

–

Selene'sreasoning on deciding to visit Dirthamen in person could be prettyaccurately summed up with the 'bow chika bow wow' music theme.

She'sjust had Des for company for several hundred years, ok? Give the poorgirl a break.

–

Shesmiles at him, clearly reading his unease. “Blackbird has alreadypaid her price,” she informs him.

Hisbrows crease slightly, wondering what she could have taken that wouldbe adequate, before she holds up one of Blackbirds feathers in thelight.

“Youare a very fine caretaker,” she praises. “Kind, and patient. AndI notice you are not currently affiliated with any of my companions.”She takes a step closer to him. “Would you be interested in beingone of my priests?”

–

'I noticed you met Des and didn't sleep with him. That's ahuge turn on for me, and alsoyour bird mentioned you were single. Want to get to know me better?;D “

–

Dirthamenswallows, and rises from where he had been seated on the floor. “Whatwould you require of me?”

–

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

--

“Nothingyou could not spare,” She assures him. “You would spreadknowledge, and kindness, and healing. Lots of study time, and writingmostly. I really only have the one night per cycle I can interferedirectly. The rest of the time, I would let you know where to help.Where to leave things, where you are needed most.”

Itdoes not sound like a cumbersome job, he thinks. He could handlethat.

“Andwhat would I gain in return?”

–

Somewhere, in another universe, thatline is the start of a cheesy Dirthalene porno.

–

Hereyes soften as she steps towards him again, closing the space betweenthem as her hands gently cup his face. Warm, so much warmer than hisown, her touch causes a shiver to ripple through him. Her face leanstowards his, eyes asking silently for permission to continue as shelingers a breath away.

Whois he to deny a goddess?

Henods, as much as he can, and feels a rush of power when her lipspress against his.

–

Thecombination of your first kiss and an actual goddess filling you withmagic has got to be crazy overwhelming, honestly.

GJwith that 'restraint' thing Selene.

–

Hiseyes slide closed as her hands drift down to his shoulders,Blackbirds feather still in her hand while she fills his mind withknowledge. Of her home, far, so very far away. Her rituals,responsibilities, ancient magics and secrets, things long thoughtlost.

Hepresses back against her in eager acceptance, a silent plea for more.

Herhands fall to his shoulder blades, pressing the feather against himand sprouting two large black wings from his body. Black as night, asthe comforting cloak it drapes over the world while it rests, wherethe Moon hangs as it watches over the world.

Hegasps at the rush of power coursing through him, and she catches himwhen he nearly topples forward.

“Ihave you,” she whispers “I will always have you. And you willhave me, in return.”

“Iaccept,” He answers without hesitation.

–

Selene, you could have at least waiteduntil the second date to share your secrets of the universe,honestly.

Not that Dirthamen is doing muchbetter, signing away his soul after a single kiss.

GOOD JOB YOU TWO, DEFINITELY NOTRUSHING INTO ANYTHING HERE.

–

Shekisses him again, and his world becomes a swirl of moonbeams andstarlight. Prayers and praise shared between their limbs and lips andlaughter.

Untilthe sun begins to rise, and she pulls away.

–

They boned.

–

“Ihave to go,” she sighs against his neck.

“Takeme with you,” he returns.

“Youknow I can’t.”

“Selene,”he murmurs into her hair. A new name, a forgotten name, only for himto know.

–

Yeah so when I wrote the first part,Selene had been isolated for so long that her name had been forgottenby everyone and everything. Her name wasn't recorded anywhere, andeveryone just referred to her as The Moon Goddess, because therewasn't anyone around to share her gospel or anything. I think Ichanged this moving forward, but I'm not 100% sure.

Also, more of their 'instant soulmateconnection' bit. Although, to be fair, she did actually link theirsouls together during the activities, I just never got around tobringing that up in the story (spoilers, I guess?)

–

Shepulls back, brushes her lips against his. “You know how to reachme, if you need to.”

“Willyou come back at the next full moon?”

Selenesmiles, already fading in the light of the day “If you call forme.”

Heplaces one last kiss to the back of her hand as she disappears, handgrasping at the empty air left behind in her wake.

Blackbirdcaws from within her cage, healthy and awoken by the sunlight assurely as Selene had been taken by it.

Hiswings have vanished, and he knows now that they will appear only whenshe returns.

Butstill.

Hecan wait.

Hewill have lots to learn, in the meantime.

–

Honestly, this is probably like anideal start to a relationship for Dirthamen. One night a monthtogether, and the rest of the time to pine and learn and think backon memories. A wonderful, warm sort of ache. Beautifully tragic, in away that's not really a tragedy.

Thanks so much for the ask

[kittenwritesstuff]

You’ll be in my heart

Gif’s not mine!

Fandom: The Lord of The Rings Pairing: Elrond x (human)reader Genres: romance, fluff Words: 2.300 Summary: Elrond came to terms with the fact he’d never fall in love again. When you came to Rivendell, he realized that you were the one he might be missing - requested by Anonymous

Elrond was aware that some feelings were out of reach for him. That his heart would only throb with excitement once he’d depart to Undying Lands to meet his wife. He understood her decision and never felt upset about it. After being so deeply wounded, it was the only thing Celebrian could do.

And the face that it left Elrond with nothing much to sense in terms of love did not matter. He still experienced parental love, feeling proud and happy as he watched his children grow up yet the kind of emptiness in his heart began to weigh heavily.

There were night when he longed for his beloved, wanting to simply lay with her and feel her gentle touch. She had told him to give a chance to love again, but, to Elrond, it seemed like a betrayal. How could he love anybody else than her?

He felt lonely, he realized that. He was, of course, content with his life, yet he knew something was missing. Someone was missing.

And for the first in ages, his heart stirred in his chest when he laid eyes on you.

You were a daughter of a leader of one of the nearby Man’s town. Till now, Elrond only met your father as he frequently visited Rivendell to negotiate terms of the agreement between them. However, Elrond remember how fondly your father spoke of you, how glad he was that you were growing to be as beautiful and wise as your mother.

What Elrond did not know was how insufficient those words were.

You weren’t beautiful. You radiated beauty, the delicate glow somehow ever present around you. Your eyes were filled with maturity and cleverness, a bit of playfulness finding its place there as well. You moved gracefully, even now as you pleaded with Lindir to take your father in, to heal him from the sickness your healers could not deal with.

And, truly, how could Elrond say no when your face was etched with so much sadness and desperation that it almost broke his heart?

_____

You cannot sleep despite how exhausted you feel. Not when your father lays unconscious and only Valar know what will happen to him. You pray, constantly and wholeheartedly to them, begging to save your father, to not take him away. You cannot bear another loss, not after your mother passed away years ago.

The Elves of Rivendell were your last hope. The healers from your town run out of ideas and resources to heal your father and so you quickly formed a party and left to seek help from the elves. You did not expect them to agree. They weren’t eager to share their abilities with mortal men and mend everything that men injured.

Yet, Lord Elrond did not even listen to your pleas, instantly telling something in their language and your father was taken to a room, Lord Elrond and few more elves following.

You have not seen your father for two day, almost losing his mind in the room Lindir lead you to. Fortunately, today you were finally allowed to visit your father and since the morning you haven’t left his side. You have to see him for yourself, you have to take care of him the best you can.

Gingerly, you run a wet clothe over your fathers forehead, feeling relieved that the fever subsided.

“I do know that you have been here often, and now I, too, know, why you were always so amazed when you told me about this place. It’s truly marvelous. I have yet to see the gardens. I’ll do it when you wake up. We’ll come together.”

“Father, I hope you won’t mind that I brought you here. You trust Lord Elrond and you told me that I could come seeking help here should I need it. He’s… I’m certain they will nurse you back to health better than our healers.”

A single tear escapes your eye and stream down your cheek as you sniff, trying to speak despite the lump creating in your throat. Your father, always so strong and respectable, now seems as if made of glass, fragile and hurt.

“Please, don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone,” you sob quietly, reaching for your fathers hand and caressing it softly. You don’t fight back tears anymore – they run freely down your face, your vision becoming blurry but you do not care. Anyone will understand your state, even the elves with their emotionless façade.

You hear movement at the door but you don’t lift your head. You don’t intend to leave your father’s room even if asked, so you sit still, waiting for the intruder to speak up.

“Lady Y/N, I bring your meal. You haven’t eaten in over a day,” a gentle voice reaches you and you risk a glance at the elf. It appears that Lord Elrond himself decided to pay you a visit and personally look after your well-being.

You offer him an ashamed smile as you wipe at your cheeks.

“Thank you, I will eat soon.”

“Which is now. Here,” he places a tray on a stand next to the bed and takes a seat on the other side of the bed. “Your father will need you strong and healthy once he wakes up. Do not forget about yourself while caring for him. And, please, don’t fret for his life. He’s in good hands.”

“He believes in that, as well. He always told me that I shouldn’t be afraid to ask you for help. Many people in our town think otherwise. Father, however, never ceased explaining them that you don’t refuse assistance when everything else disappoints.”

“That is true, as you say for yourself.”

“Yes,” you smiled tightly and reach to the plate, taking a bite of the meal. It’s sweet and you immediately feel a bit better. “Although I always knew my father was telling the truth. Every time he came back, he brought me a flower from your gardens. You had to be kind enough to let him do it, so I didn’t hesitate to take him here.”

“And you made a very good decision. It’s not the kind of illness every healer know how to treat. And the flowers…” a soft, fond smile appears on Elrond’s face as he glances at you, “your father always spoke so fondly about you, neither of us had a heart to refuse him.”

“I adored them,” you say dreamily, “they smelled so sweetly, and their colors were so vivid! We don’t have such flowers in our town. Mostly roses. And to be frank, I do not like very much. I receive them too often to be happy about that.”

“Do you?” Elrond chuckles airily at the childish manner in your voice, mixed with slight bitterness. You quickly finish your meal and turn to face him.

“There is a man in my town, a son of my father’s advisor. He wishes to wed me and every day, he sends a bouquet of red roses to my home. I always throw them away. I don’t want to wed that man, and I know my father won’t allow it.”

“Haven’t you told that suitor that you don’t wish to be wooed by him?”

“Oh, I have! Many times. But he’s stubborn. And I know that he doesn’t want to marry me because he’s in love. He wishes to take his father position, or even my father’s one. Although, he thinks he’s clever and I don’t see through him.”    

“Your father raised you well, I suppose.”

“He did, yes,” you look at your father lovingly, leaning in slightly to stroke his cheek. He sighs but doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes.

“He will wake up soon. He’ll need to stay here a while to properly recover, I’m afraid.”

“Can I stay with him?” you ask, suddenly worried that the elves will tell you to go away. It’s an irrational fear, you know it, but you can’t help the tightness in your guts at the thought of leaving your father.

Lord Elrond takes your hand and brushes his thumb against your knuckles in a calming gesture. You feel tingles from his touch, something you never felt before and it fills you with pleasant warmth.

“You can stay here for as long as it’s necessary, lady Y/N.”

“Thank you, lord Elrond. I’m very grateful for your help.”

“You’re very welcome,” he gives you a small smile and stands up, excusing himself. You decide to stay for a bit longer, not feeling tired at all. The conversation with Elrond and that odd sensation when he touched you made thousands thoughts race wildly in your head. And one of them is very loud, saying “it’s called love.”

______

The day your father finally wakes up is the day you are assured that your feelings for lord Elrond are indeed love.

It took a week for your father to awake and during that time, lord Elrond and you spent a significant amount to time together, mostly in your father’s room. Every evening when you retired to bed, you’d find a flower on the stand and you didn’t have to think much as from whom it was.

You also walked together, talking about everything and nothing in particular. Lord Elrond patiently listened to your passionate chattering about flowers. You told him in a secret that you enjoyed gardening and you wished to someday have a garden as magnificent as those in Rivendell. He expressed his sureness that you would.

One day, you caught yourself on impatient waiting for Elrond’s visit and you realized that it would be very hard to depart from Rivendell, not knowing if you ever came back here. And truth be told, you didn’t want to depart.

Your father’s recovery was going very well. He was gaining more and more strength with every passing day and you felt so much joy watching him slowly but gradually coming back to health. Yet, it only meant that soon, you would be leaving Rivendell. And you didn’t want to do that without telling Lord Elrond how you felt.

Tonight seems to be a perfect time for a confession. Your father is already sleeping but you don’t feel sleepy at all. You decided to come to the gardens in a search for reassurance of sorts, hoping that maybe you’d stumbled upon Lord Elrond.

Just as you, he finds them comforting and sooner than you expect, sooner than you’re ready, you spot him on a bench, watching as the nighttime flowers bloom.

“May I join you?” you ask quietly, not wanting to interrupt him but a warm smile that greets you surely tells you that you did not.  

“Please, come. I was waiting for you.”

Puzzled, you take a seat next to him.

“I have sent one of my guards with a message to your town. Your people should arrive in a day or two.”

“So soon…” you whisper, out of sudden feeling as if you’re running out of time. You knew it would come to that, but you hoped that you’d have more time.

“Soon? Are you not happy to come back home?” he knits his brows slightly, looking at you somewhat worried.

“I am, but I thought… I don’t want to leave Rivendell,” you take a deep breath and swallow thickly before adding in a voice hardly louder than a whisper, “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Y/N?”

“Forgive me. I should not have said it. I suppose I read things wrongly. Truly, you’d never-“

“You do realize that I am much older than you? That you are meant to wed someone of your race? That regardless our feelings, it isn’t something right?”

“Our feelings? So you..?”

“I do, yes. However my feelings do not matter. You should consider choosing someone from your town.”

“But I don’t want anyone from my town!” you exclaim, a bit too loud, but the sureness of your statement surprised Elrond. He noticed how you looked at him, but he took it as an infatuation, nothing too serious. Of course, he wanted you to reciprocate his feelings, he dreamt of it, yet the fact that you were so young, so full of life made him too scared to speak of his affection aloud.

“Y/N-“

“No, you will listen to me now. I am in love with you. With you, Elrond. And if you don’t want me, so be it. But I will not let you tell me that what I feel is not valid, or is not strong enough, because I know how I feel and I am certain that it is worth fighting for. I’m ready to fight for it, Elrond. Why can’t we give us a chance?”

“Is it what you want? Us? Together?”  

“Yes, with my whole heart, I wish for us to be together,” you assure him, passion and certainty in your gaze and Elrond gives in. How can he fight with you on something he, too, wishes to become real? How can he refuse an opportunity to be with you when it’s something you clearly want?

“It won’t be easy, Y/N.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“And your father-“

“My father already gave me his blessing. He said that I would never find anyone better than you.”

“You’ve already thought of everything, haven’t you?” Elrond gives you a smile, bright and sincere one, and you grin at him, nodding. With a quiet laughter, he shakes his head and then gasps, caught off guard when you press your lips against his.

He pulls you closer, unable to deny it any longer. You’ve got him under your spell the moment you came to Rivendell and finally, after so many years of aching emptiness, he feels complete.

You brought love back to his life.

[ozonecologne]

12.18 coda

Sam tells him in the diner that satyrs lure people away with a promise of pleasure just so they can eat them raw.

Dean thinks that well-meaning waitresses might work the same way.

She gives him a smile, a sweet one that’s everything right with a world so far from his own, and he’s able to let go of his stress after days of stewing in desperate silence. She grabs his hand and leads him out back after the dinner rush slows, and Dean knows he won’t be going back to the motel with Sam tonight. He’ll be wandering, bare foot and chasing a half-real high.

And it works. His body takes over as soon as that door shuts and it tells him he’s happy. But he can feel her teeth digging into him just the wrong side of too hard when they kiss. Her nails gouge deep into his shoulders, leave marks, remind him again that he’s hurting. Her pours his passion into her and he leaves himself cold and empty in the process. 

She devours him and she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.

He lies there in bed with her long after she’s curled up and gone to sleep but invited him to stay, facing away from him in a strip of exposed moonlight. Dean runs one hand softly along the swell of his chest, the closed cavity of his heart, just to make sure that he’s still all there. He stays.

Taptaptaps his fingers. Just can’t seem to help himself. Still longing. Still worrying.

He rolls onto her again in the morning after a bad dream wakes him up and they fuck against her bedroom door before they leave. Dean keeps his tie askew even when he drops her off at the restaurant. He arches desperately closer into her in the doorway, seeking warmth, and he forgets to care if anyone is watching him.

“You got a lot of jokes,” Pete tells him.

Dean scoffs. "Right now that’s about all I got,” he admits, glancing down into his lap. 

His cold cold body, bound alone and helpless. He could die like this.

What a fucking joke.

His head is still pounding by the time they get back to the Bunker, and he can’t help the traitorous way that his heart picks up when he steps down the stairs. It’s too easy for him to imagine Castiel shuffling around the corner, comfortable and welcoming them home. Every minute that he spends in silence hurts his head a little more. He looks around at the cold, unfeeling walls.

When the world watches him, what will it see? Is this really going to be his legacy?

Sam barely makes him feel better about it even when he smiles over the point of his knife handle, grinning like a kid again. Dean stares down at their freshly-carved initials in the library reading table and picks away at a splinter, half-hoping it will wedge itself into his skin. He contemplatively twirls his knife around in his other hand, staring at the empty space just below his name. It’s tempting.

Let him do it for himself, the calmer part of his mind tells him. Let Castiel leave his own mark on this place.

They might not have a god living in their basement, but if they’re lucky someday they’ll get an angel. No sacrifice or padlocks required.

He sits there for a long time thinking about Pete still - about being cast out of his family, making friends in all the wrong places just to be the hero, paying for it with his life. When he figures out why that worries him so much he starts desperately hoping that wherever Castiel is out there, he’s breaking his own cycle and not falling back on bad habits. That’s all he can do: hope and pray.

Dean pockets his knife and sighs.

Maybe it’s the nervous energy. He hasn’t been right for days, crawling out of his skin and checking too fast over his own shoulder. He just can’t relax. Maybe it’s because he knows he’s alone that he feels too aware of himself. He feels restless in a place that is both his home and his tomb, like everything in his room has been shifted an inch to the left. It’s just enough to throw him off balance and leave him missing something he didn’t quite notice was there before at all.

Something’s just... off.

He does what he always does when he starts feeling like this; he reaches for his night stand to look for that picture of him and his mom. He’s had it since he was very young and it’s the only thing that would ever put his heart at ease. The texture of the worn paper is familiar, and even the shapes of the age-old stains soothe him.

His fingers curl around the knob and he opens the drawer just a bit, just enough to cast the contents hidden away there in shadow, and he hesitates for a very long moment. Things are so different now with them; maybe he shouldn’t look.

He’s saved from having to make the decision by a loud buzzing from his bed. He glances over at his phone, checks the caller ID, and slams the drawer shut without another thought. His neck flushes red hot as he reaches out.

It’s Cas.

Coda taglist: @jenmdixon, @bold-sartorial-statement, @castielsmoon, @boykingdom, @sunshine-hunters, @lmejia13, @armellin, @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you, @lapotatoqueen, @burntblackfeathers, @destiel73, @whyjm, @zolaliz, @swax, @starcastlesinthesky, @tardisheart134, @righteoushuman, @bringedlundback, @chevrolangels, @athene-noctua08, @wingsandimpalas, @guusana, @divineinterventioning, @krcstar, @thatannoyingbooknerd, @samikitten, @superporp17, @angelwingsandhunterdreams, @sunshine-hunters, @wingsandimpalas, @deancasheadcanons, @seraphmisha, @mxbuckybarnes, @saywhatjessie, @prettyboydean, @theruledangel, @amadtributewithaship, @thatcolourfulsomething, @fangirlingtodeath513, @gentle-hands19, @dauntless-dean, @profound-boning, @freedomcraziness, @ashthimble, @calliopecookiejar, @cabinboyjackles, @tardisheart134

[trickstercheebs]

At the whims of Demons

ALRIGHTY So you guys wanted to see what would happen to poor Henry after what went down in the first fic you can read here 

Gonna put a slight warning here about some body horror and various dark themes ect. After all this is a horror game

To say that his body ached would be a gross understatement..Every movement sent ripples of pain rolling through him, whether from exhaustion from nearly dying..or things he was desperately trying to avoid thinking about he couldn’t quite tell. Forcing himself onward down the hall at a slow crawl helped distract himself from the current worries..But Henry could only do so much before he’d have to face facts, and he knew it..His energy had been slowly dropping ever since he had woken back up in the ink reservoir, he needed some proper sleep for starters..maybe after that he’d hurt less and have a possibly clearer head.

The whole experience had shaken him honestly, every pool of ink made him recoil slightly now..well now that he knew what it was possibly made of, that is..The studio now felt so much more..hostile and claustrophobic somehow..as if it were some living entity slowly closing itself around him with dark intentions. He staggered onward regardless, some small hope that things were only looking so grim due to his exhaustion, and that when a safe haven presented itself things would improve with sleep. A small kindness in the form of a unlocked sketch room eventually presented itself to Henry, who happily trudged inside to lock the door for a few hours sleep.

Sadly as soon as the door clicked shut, the pain that had settled over his body like a worn coat had decided now was a good time to get serious. Henry soon found himself fighting to breathe without his chest feeling like it was in a vice, wracking coughs working themselves up from his very core with every forced breath. Collapsing into the only chair in the room he tried to still the pangs, finding himself quickly losing that battle and finding his own body becoming a agonizing prison in need of air. Forcing himself to breathe deep and trying defiantly suppress the oncoming coughs he found blood on the hand covering his mouth...While that alone was enough to scare him..the fact that it was much too dark to be healthy blood scared him further....A thought at the brink of his mind quietly made the realization that it had a familiar....inky quality to it.

No, no he was only imagining things..he had to be right? Okay yes the blood was very alarming but..he had dealt with worse in the past..He’d make it through this too somehow in the end. He always did, Henry prided himself on being able to see things through to the end..But he never had to deal with this before..Things had made sense and he could always rely on the sanity of the world to stay..Nothing here made sense anymore..and he didn’t want to make sense of it..

“Stop thinking yourself into a loop Henry...it’ll be alright. I’ll find Joey and he’ll tell me what’s going on...and maybe how to fix this..”

Reassuring himself..even if his voice was now hoarse and soft from the coughing fits helped if only a little bit..Sleep always helped, and this was a situation where he could use every bit of help he could find. With some effort he got comfortable..and despite the threatening spasms in his chest to start another fit of coughing...sleep finally came at last.

He’d later on regret ever sleeping in the first place.

At first it was a fitful sleep, Henry waking up now and again from the need to cough and clear his lungs before passing back out..But slowly he fell into a much deeper sleep, enough for dreams to begin creeping in..and when the true hell began for poor Henry in earnest.

Dreams never were supposed to make much sense, Henry once thought. They were always some strange thing about flying, or doing things impossible by normal human standards. But it was always something nice to talk about over a warm cup of coffee the next morning. This dream however, was the sort of thing one prayed that its grip would not take them in its embrace for as long as they lived ever again.....

Henry found himself staring out onto a black sea, stretching out into the horizon and beyond under a sky that threatened a maelstrom at any second now..Looking down he spotted the waves meeting the equally black cliffs he found himself standing on..The monochrome landscape felt cold and silent..that was what bothered Henry the most..he felt the wind on his face, saw the waves crashing into land down below..But it was as if it was muted to him..A soft tremor beneath his feet caused him to look down once more, was the cliff giving away under his feet? Come to think of it..the cliffs looked strange, they were too rounded..too smooth. In fact they weren’t the edges of a cliff at all as Henry found out when they began curling inwards toward him. Feeling his so called solid ground begin to rise up, he fell to his knees as the hand carried him upwards..Henry feeling like his stomach had been left behind somewhere far below.

Did he want to see what controlled the hand currently holding him? Something told him no, but the idea of having his back to whatever this was seemed so much worse..Steeling himself he turned at last to see what he was dealing with. A sickening thought in his mind felt this towering thing looked familiar..and that the fact this was evident meant he should be terrified...He couldn’t quite get a hold of what its face appeared to be..but forms crawled along the surface, writhing in and out of view in some never ending dance all their own. He was well aware that it was staring at him for the sole fact that a massive eye had taken to stare at him like some hellish spotlight from above. He wanted to run, but it was either this or the blackened sea below him. As the massive face slowly loomed down to inspect him properly, Henry made his choice...and jumped to the seas awaiting embrace.

It was a foolish choice, but compared to the alternative it was one he was happy to make. Said choice did not please whatever he had been held by as a deep spine juttering rumble took to the air as Henry fell. It didn’t sound like any animal Henry would willingly want to meet..and it certainly didn’t sound human. The noise alone scared him in ways he hadn’t quite the time to process, but it scared the wits out of him on a almost instinctual level. Such antediluvian concepts were best left to be pondered by saner men in safer locales, or fools with no regard of their own safety. He could feel it trying to beat him to the waters below, to reclaim its prize before lost from sight. Henry hit the sea moments before the hand did, allowing him to get one good breath of air before his world was turned into a darkened storm of chaos.

His fall had caused him to sink fairly deep into the water..or what he had hoped was water before jumping..It felt warm and wrong, clinging to the skin almost hungrily so as he tried to maneuver himself..He didn’t so much as hear but felt the pressure shift about him as the hand came down to find him, feeling large digits brush past him as they plunged deeper to seek him out. Swimming proved difficult, the so called water seemed to resist him at every turn. Getting annoyed as the need for air began to grow urgent Henry’s list of mistakes grew one number more as he opened his eyes under the water. Shapes met his blurred vision..things resembling mouths and eyes darted in and out of sight with every passing second. The clinging sensation on his skin felt so much more like hands and claws now..he had to surface, he needed to surface now but the world he found himself in had grown far to fond of its new inhabitant to consider letting him go. Struggling he felt himself sink steadily, as if he were being passed down into the thick depths..Henry felt himself begin to panic..his chest burned like a fire had been set to it, thrashing madly he tried to stretch out heavenward for air, for anything but this. His body convulsed against his will, wanting something to fill the void that his lungs had become the dark, sick fluids eagerly took the place of air. Clinging to his mouth, his throat and every inch in between Henry felt himself convulse all the harder, retching weakly to rid himself in vain of that ungodly fluid.

It took him several minutes to realize the retching his body was forcing upon him was not a dream...but reality at last. How had he wound up on the floor was anyone’s guess..but his body heaved and contorted in fresh pain every second he was now awake. His body burned, if he didn’t know it he would of thought he had been set ablaze..Henry felt his stomach weakly try and turn itself inside out once more, was the back mess on the floor before him thanks to that or something else he couldn’t quite tell. His throat was raw from coughing and now this, leaving his voice a grating ghost of its former self..it wasn’t like he could call for help anyways down here.. Slowly pushing himself into a siting position, a soft cry of pain came forth, had he bruised himself? Both arms felt like someone had tried to wrench them from their sockets, they looked...thin and gnarled like some decrepit tree..No..no he was seeing things..His arms were fine weren’t they? He felt them, wanting to prove his eyes wrong he was dripping all over himself in worry now.

...The ink was dry when he came in here..wasn’t it? Why did it come off his arms in thick fresh strands? it made his hands look almost like claws with how its hung off of them...The dream..yes the dream was to blame, it was making him think all this was real..that his clothes felt loose while his skin felt like it had begun to shrink..He just needed a shower, that was all. 

“It’s fine...it’ll be fine Henry..I just need to calm down..we’re just thinking strange things after we saw what they..ugh..N-no..that’s not right..”

Holding his head he tried to keep himself straight, he would be fine...he had to keep telling himself that, even as he felt his ink begin to drip down..Claws digging lightly into his skin-NO! Hands..he had hands not claws..He was still human, he was still Henry. Everything still hurt, he had a feeling it would always hurt now..He was still human even if he didn’t look like it anymore..Even if he felt his bones shift under his skin, even if the ink wouldn’t wash off now no matter how hard he’d scrub.

He was still Henry, they would not take that from him..even when there was nothing else left to take. He was still Henry, even after the reservoir called him home like all the others...He was still Henry..and Henry was who they wanted, and who they took.