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lostincalum · 5 years ago

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Nothing Flashed Before My Eyes- Michael Clifford AU

AN: It’s here, without being queer (I’m sorry I had to) after months i have finally finished this monstrosity, idk what to say tbh. But if you do read I hope you enjoy and leave a coment if you enjoyed.

TW: schizofrenia, attempted suicide, self harm, alcoholism (i promise i have tried to describe them as neutral as I could)

Word count: 8k (issa long boi from me)

“Nothing flashed before my eyes.”

I spoke softly as I stared up at the sterile white of the roof.

“What do you mean?”

He asked carefully, as though I would shatter and the world would collapse if he spoke any louder.

“When I took the pills…”

Suddenly the words were harder to speak, my throat clogging up. I looked at him, straight into his eyes. His cold, emerald- eyes. It seems like he has lost all hope for me.

“… everything kind of just stopped for a minute. And then I went to bed, hoping to never wake up. But there was no pretty angels, and no bright light, just nothing”

He looked at me, as if I had just told him God and heaven didn’t exist. I suppose I had. Then he walked out the door. Not looking back once.

----

Walking through the doors to the psych ward is scary. I’ve been to a couple before, but this place feels different, and I don’t get why I’m here. It looks too stupid expensive. With the soft white walls and view over the city. With the stupid billowing curtains and stupid leather couches. It looks like a normal house, except really big and spacious. I hate it already.

When my mum puts her hand on my shoulder, it feels like the weight of the world is dropped there. And while I know it is meant to be a comforting gesture, I can’t help but think that I don’t want anyone else to touch me today. I feel suffocated in the openness of the building, that I know my step-dad paid his way into.

“Hi and welcome to Hollywood Heights treatment centre.”-

I turn at the sound of a female voice that is way too happy for this place, and I’m met with the blue eyes of a petite lady. The only way for me to spot that she is in fact not a patient is her ID card that is fastened at her belt hoop. Her brown hair is short and spiky.

Mum rushes forward, taking her hand off of my shoulder, but leaving the weight, to shake the hand of the lady.

“Hey, I’m Mary, thank you so much for taking in my daughter. We appreciate it so much.”

I give her a tight lipped smile.

“Oh, there are no worries Mary! and you must be Riley?”

She directs the question at me, and I nod quietly, letting my eyes flicker over the flowers that are spread across the different surfaces in the entrance and reception area.

“Well, let’s just get you officially admitted, and we can begin the little tour.”

I have a sinking feeling this is gonna be anything but a “little” tour.

----

After thirty minutes of walking around the house and being shown every possible nook and cranny as well as its function, I have some time in my room.

Mum left a couple of minutes ago after she got a call from work, that she was needed. Immediately of course.

I start unpacking my bag, it isn’t a lot, mostly sweatpants and long sleeves. But I also brought my laptop and a few different chargers. I sit down on the not too hard mattress of the bed and stare at the annoyingly soft, white colour of the wall, until it isn’t white anymore.

The wall isn’t white, it’s red. Trails of red teardrops slither down the wall in front of me. I watch as it reaches the floor and starts sliding towards my bed, the bed where I’m sitting, as if the floor is tilted.

This isn’t gonna end well for you, dear.

Slowly I find the pattern and as my heart skips a beat, my converse clad feet jump around the floor as I try to reach the door. When I finally do, and twist the door handle, I slam it shut behind me. Leaning against the door, it feels like my knees are about to give out underneath me and my eyes are way to warm and stingy.

“You alright?”

I whip my head around and suddenly my eyes are met with a pair of green ones. I can’t quite make them out ‘cause of the fringe covering one of his eyes, and the dark pupil of his other eye. But I’m positive that his eyes are green. I quickly look behind me as I turn around, pulling the sleeves of my loose henley down my arms, and start walking away.

“I’m fine,” my voice comes out somewhat smothered, but I don’t hear any footsteps following me. I just hear the thud of something dropping to the ground. I don’t turn around. I don’t want to turn around. But I do. And I find his head cocked ever so slightly to the side, but still attached to his neck.

Got you, hahaha

“Fuck you,” I mumble to myself, turning around for the second time and continuing to walk god knows where.

-------

I find myself in the music room. Out of all the things I hate here, I really hate this place the most. I love music so much, but they’ve managed to make this even this room feel strange. It’s not that they’ve not put any effort into it. They’ve overdone it. A lot of the places I’ve been to before have had instruments and music rooms, but this is too over the top. Brand new drum kits, never used guitars, both acoustic and electric, and a selection of basses that have never been touched. The ivory keys of the grand piano have barely been played. That’s the moment I know that’s where I’ll be spending most of my time. Wearing in all the instruments.

Coincidentally that is also where I am disturbed first. I jump a little when I hear crackling coming from the corner of the room. The voice belongs to Linda, the lady who showed me around when I arrived.

“If all patients would come to the kitchen, dinner is about to be served.”

I sigh and walk out of the room, headed for the kitchen area. When I’m in the stairs I pass by a tall blonde with curly hair and a bright smile. However, it is bright in a different way than what Linda had. More like friendly, which I find hard to believe in, considering where I’m at.

“Hey, you must be Riley, right?”

She puts forward a hand, expecting me to shake it. I just nod, but it doesn’t seem to affect her, as she puts her hand back into the pocket of her jeans, but continues to talk.

“I’m Lucy, I’ll be your psychiatrist while you stay here, I have to go right now, but enjoy your dinner, and I’ll see that you get a message tomorrow for our first official session.”

I nod again, and as I start to walk down the stairs, she doesn’t call after me, doesn’t stop me, she just lets me go. And I appreciate that.

When I get to the kitchen, it is bustling with something that looks like life. I find it a little bit funny, that something that is so depressing in the media, is so lively in real life. A couple of girls are chatting beside each other and a boy and a girl look like they are sitting a little too close to each other, because not a second later Linda is pulling the girl away from the boy.

I stand in the entrance and watch as a man puts two pots containing some sort of stew in it on the table, it doesn’t smell bad.

The only spot left by the table is in front of a guy in a black hoodie, that he has pulled over his head, but I swear I can see his blonde fringe from here. I step further into the room and a round, tall man introduces himself to me as Johnny.

Maybe we should cut his head open and put a mixer in his brain.

“Or maybe not,” all I do is hope that no one hears me whispering as I walk to the open spot.

Carefully I sit down in front of the boy in the black hoodie, and start fiddling with the fork. He looks up from his phone when he hears me picking up the fork. To be honest I expect him to look at me with sort of an insulted look, but he doesn’t. His eyes, albeit a bit sad, are filled with curiosity.

“Hey, I’m Michael,” he smiles as he reaches out his right hand.

“Riley’s the name,” I look at him, shaking his hand briefly but firmly and go back to playing with the fork.

“You want a little tip for staying here?” Michael says as his eyes dance over my appearance. He continues to do so, until he notices my eyes, and pulls the hood of his sweater down.

“Sure,” the fact that I’m constantly avoiding his eyes; must be annoying for him. I must seem like the most arrogant person he has ever met. Yet he continues to talk to me.

“Keep something to yourself, not something big or scary. But something, a dream, a hope, a fantasy, just for yourself. That way you can keep a part of you.”

He looks at me with these deep green eyes, and for the first time in a while, green doesn’t make me feel sick and empty. It doesn’t make me feel as excited as before, more on the safe side.

You still don’t get it? nowhere is safe for you, I will ruin anything and everything for you.

I roll my eyes as he whispers in you ear, his hands on my shoulders pressing down harder. To get rid of the feeling I roll my shoulders and try to focus on the conversation as well as my surroundings.

“Why? aren’t we supposed to do as they say and answer every question?”

It feels like a stupid question, because what he is saying makes sense, to me at least. A small, but tired smile makes it way onto his lips.

“Common misconception, but no. If you do that, they have the knowledge to persuade, control, almost own you. Not everyone knows all of themselves, but you seem like you do.”

The cheeky wink he sends me doesn’t go unnoticed, but as a bowl of pasta is set down in front of us, he engages in a conversation on his left side.

“How you doing Sandra, everything go well in your session today?”

To be honest, Michael seemed like the person that took care amongst the patients. Like he wanted to make sure that everyone was alright. As he talked to Sandra, I could tell that he genuinely cared about what she had to say.

“Okay, everyone, get ready for grace.”

Johnny announces as he sits down at the head of the table, opposite to the side where me and Michael are sitting. Everyone reaches their hands out and as the girl to my right reaches out a hand I hold it carefully, not really wanting to be touched more than necessary. Michael reaches out a hand, and I think he gets it, cause he holds me gingerly, but without fear. Like he isn’t scared that I’ll break any second.

After we finish grace, Johnny stands up and looks at me, with a kind smile.

“So everyone, we have a new patient here today, her name is Riley. Give her a warm welcome, and take care of eachother.”

I pull my hands into my sweater sleeves and give them all a nod as they all look at me. Some of them nodding back. The girl Michael was talking to even let out a little “hi”.

---------

Being social has always been difficult for me, and as I sit here in my bedroom, I have no idea of what to do with myself. I’m sat in the only chair in the room. It’s hard plastic and I can tell it is going to annoy me for a while. I don’t wanna look at the wall anymore so I pick up my phone and start scrolling through different media.

On all of them, he is there, looking so fucking innocent, too fucking innocent. Like he has moved on from what I did to myself, what I did to us. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he is ignoring it like this, so easy.

There are two sharp raps on the door, and it opens, invading my space and making me jump slightly. Linda is standing in the doorway, with her bright fake smile on her lips.

“Hi, Riley group therapy starts in three minutes, you should come-” she smiles at me.

“It is mandatory, but if you don’t feel like going your first day that’s alright too.” It feels like she is trying to force me to go with her eyes.

“Nah, I think I’ll go next time.”

At last you get something right

“Okay, please let us know if there is something we can do for you.” Linda says before she closes the door behind her, leaving me alone with my own head.

----

I go to sleep shortly after getting my medicine handed to me from Johnny. Here, like all other institutions we aren’t allowed to have our own medicine at our own disposal. And I think that might be a good thing.

------

I wake up still rattled from a nightmare. My alarm is still blaring beside me and I turn to shut it off, just as there is a knock on my door. Linda walks in not a second later.

“Breakfast is in five minutes, you’ve slept in for long enough now.”

The fake smile, everything about her ticks me off, especially her condescending tone of voice. I just nod and start getting out of bed, she stares at my thighs and I know she has seen the scars that litter the top of them. I’m just glad I still have my long sleeve covering my arms.

“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Linda walks out of my room, but still throws a last glance at my thighs. Looking as if they suddenly might attack her or come alive. As the door shuts behind her I look down at my legs, feeling ashamed.

You deserve these, after all you did it to yourself.

“No, you made me do this, you said-”

And you listened. Honestly, one would think you to be stronger.

“Yeah? Fuck you”.

I go about my routine, which is basically changing my top and putting on deodorant. I also put on a pair of sweatpants and socks before going out the door and to the kitchen on the first floor.

When I exit I also see another person closing her door. I recognize her as Sandra. The girl Michael was talking to at dinner yesterday. She looks at me and smiles, and starts heading for me.

“Hi, are you ready for breakfast?”

She smiles at me. Her body is covered in a big knit sweater and baggy jeans, like she is trying to hide herself from the world.

You could just grab a kitchen knife and stab her between her ribs.

I close my eyes for less than a second and look at her, seeing her tired eyes and messy hair. In that second I can’t help but think that her and I will be good friends.

“Yeah, I think so. You?”

We start walking towards the kitchen and I feel the weight on my shoulders pressing me down.

“Not really, but I can’t give up now.”

Sandra looks down at her feet, which causes me to ask her a question out of curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

She looks at me nervously, before she starts talking again.

“Well, I’m not that good at eating? I suppose.”

I nod trying to come across as understanding, as she looks at me like she expects me to come up with some big ol’ scream, instead I decide to “become even”.

“It’s quite alright, I’m not that good at living.”

And I think this was one of the best things I could have said, cause she smiles at me and lets out a little giggle, as we enter the kitchen. Everyone else seems to be there, at least the people from yesterday, I still haven’t talked to anyone else though.

Sandra and I sit down at the same places as we sat yesterday at dinner. She is immediately engaged in a conversation with the same guy from yesterday, the one she was pulled away from. He leans in for a hug and her frame is engulfed by his rather muscular one. With red tinted cheeks she turns to look at me.

“Chris, this is Riley.”

Chris leans back in his seat, with an arm thrown around the back of Sandra’s chair. He looks at me kind of judgey before giving me a nod of approval, at least that’s what it looks like. I give him a nod back, but before he can say anything our attention is pulled towards two girls entering the kitchen. One of them looks like she has been crying and the other holds a comforting hand on her back as they sit down beside me.

They’re here to kill you

Yeah right, and I’m here to listen to you….

-----

After breakfast, as I’m headed up the stairs, I hear soft chords coming from the music room. Someone is strumming a guitar and it’s like I’m hearing music for the first time. Not only music but one of the prettiest voices I have ever heard is singing along to the song.

I have a vague feeling in the pit of my stomach that I know who is playing. I walk closer to the open doors, and as I see Michael sitting on the floor playing the guitar that previously hung on the wall, I kind of melt a little. His fringe and the little crease between his brows, it’s all very enamoring.

“I’m alright, I’m Okay, I’m alright I’m okay, I’m not a monster just a human and I’ve made a few mistakes.”

Not gonna happen for you though.

We’ll see about that, I think to myself.

He sings the words so carefully like he doesn’t quite believe them. He finishes the song and looks up, seeing me in the doorway. Immediately the frown is back, but not as enamouring, more suspicious. It almost hides the blush that is lightly covering his cheeks.

“Sorry, I can come back later.”

I say as he puts the guitar down and gets up.

“No no, do you play?” he inquires, seemingly having gathered himself.

“Ehh, a little bit of everything.” I answer as he looks at me.

Not as well as you like to think.

I roll my eyes as I look down on the floor, hoping he doesn’t see.

“A little bit of everything eh?” Michael says.

“Yeah, I was taught the piano from a young age, and a bit of bass and guitar. Drums aren’t the worst, but anything that makes me use my mouth to make it work isn't for me to play, how about you though?” I say as he stares at me quizzically.

“Well I’m self taught at guitar so I can’t really write or read music, but I still like to think I know how to.”

He stares down at his feet a little bashfully.

“Well, you have a good voice, it’s strong and vulnerable at the same time. I really like the song you were playing as well.”

“You do? I haven’t actually written it myself it’s called ‘It’s alright’ by-”

“Mother Mother, I know. I really like it.”

We stare at each other for a second before we both burst out in giggles. It’s been a while since I have smiled like this.

You know this won’t last.

---------

Group therapy is the first thing that happens that week. It’s always between breakfast and lunch. And I walk from the music room with Michael right after the call comes on the radio thing that crackles in the corner of the room. We walk side by side until we come to the hallway with all the bedrooms in it. He stops by the door that is closest to the stairs, three doors down from me.

“You aren’t going to group therapy?”

I ask, and hope the disappointment isn’t as obvious in my voice as it feels.

“Nah, I don’t do group.”

Michael says with a secretive, yet tired smile, and I decide not to press the matter, even though it felt like a weird thing to come from him, considering how caring of the others he seems to be.

“Well, I’ll see you at dinner then.”

He nods as he opens the door and I take that as my cue to leave.

-----

“Hello and welcome back to group therapy. For some of us, this is the first time we’re here, others have been here before.”

Lucy starts off the session with everyone I’ve seen sitting in a circle and it looks more like an AA meeting than anything else.

“Since we have a new patient here today I think we should all take turns and say what’s on our minds.”

She smiles at us, and it doesn’t seem as fake as it could have been.

“Why don’t you start Riley?”

With the friendly smile she gives me, I should have been able to meet her gaze, but a big, looming, black figure is standing behind her, so I opt to look at my feet instead.

“Well, hi, my name is Riley and today I don’t feel much like living, like most days.”

My voice comes out tired and drawn out, and I can see Lucy crossing her legs and readying her notepad in anticipation.

------

The days go like this, we do group therapy as well as one on one, and I discover that Lucy isn’t like most other psychiatrists. She listens when I talk, and helps me figure out different kinds of things. It is probably in my journal, but she hasn’t asked about the voices yet. And I prefer it like that.

I have also started to connect more with Michael. We both sit in the music room and wear in all the instruments, although the most frequently used ones are the piano and guitars. He has the sweetest voice when he sings: vulnerable, but still confident.

A few days ago he let me follow his instagram, and ever since I have been staring, wondering how to read him. He seems so different from the person he is here. Always surrounded by friends and always laughing it seems. Yet there is something that still bothers me. He always seems to be at a party. The glassed over look in his eyes, and the red cup in his hand. The photos seem to be posted in a small time frame, almost like he’s partying every other day. And suddenly I get what has been right in front of me since I first saw his instagram. At least I think I do.

One day we are sitting in the music room and it’s right before dinner. That’s when I decide to address my own thoughts.

“Michael, can I ask you something?”

He looks at me, like he always does, with these understanding, green eyes of his. So patient and calm. Like the green water that comes from glacier ice. We’re sat beside each other on the piano stool after playing around on the grand piano.

“You know you can ask me anything, right Riles?”

Michael bumps my knee with his, as he gives me one of his most reassuring smiles. And I feel the lump in my chest grow.

“Well, I was just wondering-”

I hate this, I should back down, but I can’t stop now and before I can really think it through the words tumble out of my mouth.

“Do you have an alcohol problem?”

And the shift is immediate. His body goes rigid, he stops fiddling with the keys on the piano and his brows furrow.

“Not that question though, that is none of your business.”

I can see him shutting me out. He gets up just as Linda’s voice crackles through the room, calling us to dinner. Before I know it he has slammed the door to the music room shut, making me jump.

How did you really think this would go? That he would open up to you and cry on your shoulder? You really are more stupid than we thought.

The weight that had been lightening on my shoulder immediately goes back to crushing me, and regret is all I feel. What if I have ruined our friendship?

Probably.

When I enter the kitchen everyone is already seated and saying grace. I decide not to intrude as they complete. Opting to watch everyone else holding hands and in varying degrees keeping up with Linda who is leading grace.

They finish and once I get to the table and sit down on my usual spot, Linda scowls at me. I don’t really care for it. Just the fact that Michael doesn’t even look up when my chair scrapes across the floor, I hate it. I hate it so much.

Sandra looks at me quizzically. Usually me and Michael come down together from the music room, or we talk about music or books or anything that crosses our minds. The fact that he won’t even look at me is unusual to say the least. Which causes the entire dinner to be awkward. It’s like we have thrown the entire house off. Or I. I guess I did this.

Of course you did, who else?

----

Michael is the first to leave dinner, and I follow shortly after. I go straight to my room to get dressed. There is a little swing in the garden which overlooks the entire city, and I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I need some fresh air.

I just throw on a hoodie and grab my ear buds, putting them in my ears as I walk down the stairs and out the door.

I sit down on the porch swing in the garden and find a good loud song to shut out all my thoughts. I must have been sitting here for a few minutes when Sandra sits down beside me, making me jump a little.

“How are you?”

She asks this so softly, and I pull out my ear buds.

“Not too good to be honest.”

Her hands fiddle with the ends of her scarf as she looks at me.

“I figured, wanna talk about it?”

I can feel myself wanting to let it all out. I feel lonely already without the tiny touches from Michael. Fuck.

“I just, I don’t know, I think I might have made a big mistake.”

Sandra looks at me, gives me one of those looks, that says she already knows what this is about, but she has the decency to ask me anyway.

“What’s going on?”

Sighing feels like the only thing I can do.

“I, well it isn’t my place to tell, but I asked Michael something that I shouldn’t have asked about, and now he is mad at me. And I mean, he has every right to be angry, but it hurts.”

This time it is Sandra’s turn to sigh.

“You asked him why he’s here?”

“Something along those lines.”

“You should know Riley, that he has been here longer than most of us, and the walls he has built are so tall. When Chris first came here, he didn’t really understand why Michael was here. So he lashed out, and kept yelling about how Michael didn’t deserve to be here, and how he was more of an employee here than a patient. It definitely took a toll on him, even though Chris has apologized.”

“Do you know why he is here?”

I can’t stop myself from asking. I know I shouldn’t, but the words already slipped out of my mouth.

“No, I figured we all have our reasons and he doesn’t have to share them if he doesn’t feel like it, we owe him at least that.”

The sun is setting now, and the light reflects on us making warm hues glimmer across the city beneath us, as well as Sandra’s cheeks. Her hair looks like a black halo with golden edges.

“Yeah, maybe I should go apologize?”

“No-” she turns to look at me.

“You shouldn’t apologize, he needs to be asked this sort of questions if he ever wants to learn to live with whatever he is dealing with.”

I can’t help but agree with what she is saying.

-----

Lucy has one of the few nice rooms in the building, her office is more welcoming than I ever thought a psychiatric office could be. There is a good, comfortable two seat sofa in one corner of the room. Her desk is neat, but looks lived in for some reason. It’s like she has been here for a good part of her life. With a pair of running shoes, a couple of jackets hanging on the hooks by the door. But my most favourite thing about her office is the window though, which has a good look over the wild side behind the house.

That is where I’m looking when Lucy says my name, probably for the second time.

“Riley, how are you? You seem very distracted today.”

I look down at my hands, wondering how I’m gonna phrase this.

“I am.”

She cocks her head to the side, indicating for me to continue. I can’t though, it always has been easier for me to answer questions than to just tell someone what’s wrong.

“I noticed you and Michael haven’t been hanging out? it seemed like the two of you got a really good connection, what’s happened?”

“We can talk about anything else, just not that, not right now.”

And in this moment I swear I think she really cares.

But why would she care about you?

“Your suicide attempt then? The nurses wrote that you had a visitor when you woke up?”

Of course, it had to come eventually, I’m just surprised it took her this long.

“Yeah, there was.”

“Who was he?”

“Well since you know it’s a boy, you probably also know who he was to me.”

She looks at me with these really sad eyes. It’s pity, I know it’s pity, and I feel nauseous.

“I do, he’s mentioned in your papers a lot.”

“God, I know, I was so stupid back then.”

I sigh, trying to avoid the lump in the back of my throat.

“You weren’t stupid.”

“No, I was in love, and I hated it and it’s not gonna- it can’t happen again.”

I can hear myself, how pathetic I sound, and I can’t stop the tears from streaming out of my eyes, and down my cheeks.

“Riley, you are never stupid for having feelings.”

She sounds so stupid, so naive when she says that. She probably married her first love. I can see the ring on her finger, just taunting me by showing me what I can’t ever have.

Now you’re starting to get it.

“I am though, ‘cause it’s always the wrong feeling, or too much of it, too little, whatever it is, it’s never right.”

Lucy crosses and uncrosses her legs before speaking up again.

“So you’ve decided to not feel?”

Her saying this, it feels a bit like an insult, cause here I am, crying trying to bare my soul to her. And she accuses me of trying to not feel?

“Oh I feel, I’m heartbroken, and sad and scared, I’m frustrated and desperate.”

---

After my session with Lucy I’m tired, so when the screaming from my room increases I’m not really surprised. What surprises me is that they are screaming for mercy now. I don’t know what to do, but I can hear the most graphic noises coming from behind my door. The cries for help increase, as does the laughter. And just like that, I’m in tears for the second time today.

This time however, it’s different. I’m alone and the voices I know are just in my head, sound too real to be fantasy. I slide down the wall, not wanting to go inside my room, in fear of what I’ll meet. A mantra begins to escape my lips and I close my eyes while patting all my pockets for my earbuds.

“Please just stop, please just stop, please just stop,” escapes me over and over.

Suddenly, like lightning from clear sky I feel a presence sitting down beside me. His voice is calm as he says, “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Michael is sitting beside me, I know him by his rough voice and the scent of him, laundry detergent, encompasses me entirely. My room goes quieter, and I start to get my bearings again. Wiping my eyes, I stand up and look at Michael. His eyes are red rimmed and he looks tired, but there is something familiar about it. His drooping, squinty eyes, for some reason he looks hungover. He can’t possibly be.

“I should probably, I mean, I’ll see you around.”

I stutter out, before I say something I shouldn’t. And before he has the time to respond I open the door and slip in. Not without missing the soft “fuck” he lets out, which makes me wonder if i have made a mistake.

When don’t you make mistakes?

I lean my back against the door, and sigh looking towards the bathroom, feeling the need for release really fast.

---

I get a snap from Sandra, whilst I’m sitting on the bathroom floor. It’s a picture of the living room, and if I squint I can see Johnny in the background of the screen. I put the camera of the phone down on my jeans and take a black picture. With shaking hands I type:

“Can you ask Johnny to come to my room?”

A few seconds later I get back a picture of Johnny exiting the living room with the text: “On his way, you alright?”

Before I have the time to respond there is a nock on my door, before it opens.

“Where are you Riley?”

His calm and steady voice made me feel worse. How the fuck am I supposed to explain this.

“Bathroom, you can come in.”

I feel the tears burning behind my eyes again, and the short relief I felt is gone, replaced with regret. Johnny stands in the doorway looking at me before taking another step closer and turning my wrist up to assess the damage I have done to myself.

“Okay, I’ll get you stitched up and then we can talk about what has happened?”

All I can do is nod my head as he helps me stand up. He folds a towel over my arms, tells me to cross them and then we head for the medical room. It is just down the hall, and I suspect that it’s no coincidence that it’s placed so close to the patient rooms.

Luckily we don’t pass anyone in the hallway, and I think I’m in the clear.

I lay on the medical chair as Johnny administrates the local anesthesia. It feels like something is stinging underneath my skin, until it all goes numb.

“I didn’t know you were allowed to stitch people up here?”

Conversation is a desperate attempt at distraction for me, but I’m grateful that he goes along with it anyway.

“Yeah, it’s just me and a few others who have the training though.”

He says as he methodically works his way through the routine I have witnessed too many times.

“How did you get the training, was it hard?”

Johnny is one of the very few who don’t use the rolling chair as he preps everything, but he has left it by the side of my reclined seat.

“Well, the military is pretty hard most would say, but as I learned things got easier, and when it’s all about saving a brother in arms, I suddenly just knew how to apply the things we had learned as recruits.”

This I kind of saw coming, but not the medic part. His burly build and calm exterior always reminded me of my father, who was a tank driver.

“My dad was in the armed forces, he died there too.”

Johnny turns around and rolls the tray with the needle and thread over. He then sits down on the chair and threads the needle as he talks.

“I’m sorry to hear, when did this happen?”

The weird thing is that this conversation doesn’t feel forced, even though this is something I hate talking about.

“I was like ten I think? So about ten years ago.”

Johnny nods, and it feels like he knows what he knows what I’m talking about. I realise that he has probably read it in my file, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it should, after all he knows how it is.

We continue to talk about all of this while he stitches me up. When he finishes up he suggests to me to take a nap to which I agree. Johnny puts on some huge medical bandages and follows me back to my room, which has been cleaned. I suspect Johnny sent a message to someone.

———

I’m woken up by aching in my arm and a cursed knocking on my door. Linda walks in before i can even say “come in”. I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. My throat feels dry as Linda sits down beside me.

“Come on, get up! it’s time for breakfast.”

And it’s so typical her, to not ask me how I’m doing, no sympathy. And for the first time in a while I don’t feel so choked. Perhaps for the wrong reasons, but the feeling of being treated like a normal person, no matter what I did yesterday.. it sort of feels good actually.

However, I’m not gonna let her know that so I just silently nod while sitting up in the bed.

When I come down to the kitchen everybody is already there, except for one person. Judging by the chair that pushed back from the table, Michael has already left.

As people sit and chat I go over to the counter and start making myself a cup of tea. Tea making and drinking is a part of being inpatient no one told me about, although I suppose it’s different for everyone. It has just become a thing I do everyday several times.

With my sweater pawed hands holding the tea cup, I’m sitting here listening to the other patients talk, smiling at the appropriate moments and sometimes laughing a bit. And in contrast to the last couple of weeks, it doesn’t feel entirely forced.

———

It’s late in the evening, I have walked past the porch and over to the edge of the garden, behind a tree. It shields from the view of the windows of the house and I’ve never actually been here. But it looks peaceful so I sit down at the base of the tree and overlook the city. I still can’t believe I agreed to this. Being so far away from all that I knew physically hasn’t changed me mentally, no matter how much mum wishes it did. She calls sometimes, but I feel like I would have to lie to her every time so i don’t answer at all. I know she still gets weekly reports when she calls the office lady, even though I never quite figured out where she has her office.

“Hey there.”

I look up and I’m met with emerald green eyes, hidden behind a pair of glasses I’ve never seen Michael wear. He doesn’t ask permission or anything before he sits down. I suppose he doesn’t have too either.

“Hey, I can leave if you want some time alone or something.”

The words fall out of my mouth before I have the time or sense to think them through, and sooner than I expected I’m standing up. Until I’m not anymore. My hands are firmly planted in the ground behind my back, upper body bent and ready to get up, when I feel his calloused palm holding onto my wrist. It’s too close, I know it is. And again, I act too quickly. This time by pulling my hand towards myself, thereby sitting back down.

“Please stay. Unless you don’t want to of course.”

And it hurts. God it hurts to just hear the hurt and resignation in his voice.

“No no, I’ll stay.”

For the first time that evening I really, really take a good look at him. He looks tired, more so that usual. With a beanie covering his messy hair, dark circles under his eyes, and a beard that hasn’t been shaved in a couple of days.

“I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about.”

Michael sighs, and I know he dreads the conversation by the way his fingers immediately go to the strings of his hoodie, fiddling with them incessantly, when I tell him.

“Yeah, I suppose I owe you an explanation.”

He is still looking at his hands, as if searching for answers.

“You don’t owe me anything Michael, but I will take an explanation if you want to tell me?”

Again he sighs, probably debating how much he should tell me.

“Well, this is gonna be messy, but I just want to try to explain this so you can better understand why I act the way I do.”

Michael pulls his legs up to his chest and puts his hand on his knee. For the first time in a long long while I seek contact first. I put my hand on his and give it what I hope is an encouraging squeeze. Before I wrap my arms around myself again.

“You know as well as I do that treatment at this place isn’t for the poor, or even the middle class, it is kind of stupid really, how they leave treatment for those well off, fucking ridiculous.”

Carefully I speak his name and he looks at me.

“Right, sorry. My dad is a really successful businessman, and we were always well off, but I think it came with its consequences. As I grew up, I was surrounded by all these rich bastards who were always looking for a deal, and I was a part of the picture perfect family. Except we weren’t.”

He looks away from his hands and up at the sky, I follow his gaze and see a few tiny little stars. A shadow flickers in the corner of my eyes, and I know it’s not real, and it gives me a little sting of fear anyways.

“I mean, sure we had everything we could ever ask for, except maye love. My mum and dad were constantly fighting behind closed doors and I grew up listening to them. She started doing more business meetings further away from me and my father, and I was so angry with my father for driving her away. So I started distancing myself, I can’t have been older than eighteen.”

I shuffle a little closer to Michael, feeling his warmth through his hoodie. Hoping it comforts him, but also that the shadow won’t see me.

“When you started…”

I’m not sure how much I can say to Michael without him getting angry, so I let the ending of the sentence hang in the air for a while.

“When I started drinking. It didn’t really start as an issue where I consciously went looking for solace in alcohol, but as I partied more and more, and found some sort of relief in it, i actively sought it out. I don’t remember a lot of the last couple of years, except for headaches and bottles. I also had shitty friends who kept pushing me to drink more.”

My heart truly aches for him. But at the same time, I know I couldn’t have helped him anyway. Maybe I can’t help him now either, but I can be here for him. And I intend to do so.

“It ended when I came home one night and my dad was home for once. A magazine was spread out on the kitchen table with me on the front page. It wasn’t pretty. He was so ashamed of me, said some pretty ugly stuff. As did I, cause what he said really hurt. I came here to be a forced inpatient. But after a few weeks, after horrible abstinences, and a solid few rounds around my own head, I accepted where I was and decided to be better, by doing better.”

Just as I’m about to say something the grip on my shoulder tightens, and I flinch a little. He doesn’t seem to notice though.

“That’s why, when you so easily saw through me, I was scared you too would be angry and ashamed, so I found it better to just shut you out. I made a really big mistake, some of my old friends stopped by with a bottle of something awful. I mean after shutting you out, nothing felt right and for a second I thought drinking would help, it didn’t. And the day after, when I found you in the hallway. I regretted it so badly, and I just want you to know, that nothing of this is your fault. I hope you can see that. ”

Finally he looks at me, and I can see his eyes, searching mine for an answer.

“I’m not angry or ashamed, I’m proud actually. For as much as it counts for, I’m proud of you for being able to push through this and for having the guts to talk to me about it.”

He takes a hold of my hand and intertwine our fingers. I don’t notice at first, and when I do it is too late. My sleeve has slid down on my arm and exposed the bandage covering it.

“Riley, you didn’t have this a couple of days ago..”

Michael lets the sentence hang in the air as I try to find the right words. He looks so sad.

“You do not owe me an explanation. Just so we’re clear on that, but know that I’m here for you.”

I nod and squeeze his hand, before pulling to me to study the bandage. It should be changed soon.

“You know, you reminded me of my ex-”

His expression says it all, he really doesn’t like where this is going.

“when i first came here. You have the same eyes, almost at least. Yours are a lot warmer, kinder. And you easily read people, respect their limits. David didn’t. He was always pushing for me to be perfect and well, it sounds a lot like your parents. In the end, when my schizofrenia got too much and I attempted suicide, I didn’t fit into his world anymore, and he left me alone in the hospital. Mum came by after a couple of days later, after her trip to wherever with her new husband. He works as a contractor or some shit, so he is paying for this.”

The frustration I feel as I explain this, I don’t know how to put it into words. However, Michael seems to understand.

“I harm myself because the voices tell me to. And it gives me some sort of twisted peace. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Michael shuffles closer to me, so we sit arm to arm, and I lean my head on his shoulder. For the first time in a long while I really like the world is a little safer.

“Wanna make a deal?”

I ask as I sit there. Hoping he will agree.

“Depends on the deal.”

“Well, I was just thinking, maybe if we promise to each other that we won’t hurt ourselves if the other person promises to do the same, that we can come to each other when we need to be distracted. This doesn’t mean like it’s our responsibility bu-”

Before I can finish my sentence Michael cuts me off.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

As cheesy as it sounds, I swear, I can hear a smile in his voice.

“Also, another thing. Wanna join group tomorrow? It’s a great way to be there for others, and maybe let them get to know you a little differently.”

TAGLIST: @burncrashbromance @moonchildsblack @5-secondsofcolor @harry-hallows-eve @min-amani

(i have probably spelt some of these wrong, so shoot me an ask and I will correct it:))

#michael clifford #michael imagine #michael au #michael blurb #michael fic #michael x oc #5sos imagine #5sos au #5sos blurb #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer #michael gordon clifford #badboy!michael #psych ward story

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lostinthewiind · 6 years ago

Text

Verbal Volatility - Part 3

Johnny Martin - Band of Brothers

Okay, so, I went kinda ham on this. I really hope y’all like it cuz tbh writing this made me feel some type of way.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Synopsis: both you and Martin know that what’s happening between you is wrong on so many levels, but sometimes the body takes over for the mind, and your bodies want nothing more than to be pressed up against each other.

Warnings: ***SEXY TIME***

Martin’s eyes were dark; so dark that you swore you could see your reflection in them. You looked small in his irises. Your face was flushed with a mixture of shock, fear, and excitement. Your feelings were a mix of much of the same as well.

His large hands were on your sides and the small of your back was pressed hard into the table behind you. Flashbacks of the last time you had been alone with him crossed your mind, then you played back all the words he had just said to you.

So many words with so many meanings.

He needed you.

What did that even mean? You thought you knew, but you hoped you were wrong. A part of you begged for him to come to his senses, turn around, and leave, but another part of you never wanted him to let go of you.

His hands on you felt so wrong, but oh, so right.

“We don’t have to do this.” you managed to speak even though it felt like you couldn’t even breathe. “You can still walk away.”

Martin shook his head as his fingertips dug into your skin. “No, I can’t.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t think so…no.”

Although morning would be upon you soon, it was still dark outside, which meant there was very little light in the small room you and Martin were holding each other in. The pale moonlight lit up the features of his handsome, brooding face as he stared down at you, his tongue running over his bottom lip and his eyes filling with a hunger that struck you with a sense of anxiety and anticipation deep in the pit of your stomach.

The last time you had been pressed up against a table by Sergeant John Martin, things hadn’t gone smoothly in the least. A great desire inside of you wanted this time to be different.

Placing your hands on Martin’s chest, you pushed him back and stepped out from between him and the table. Martin watched silently as you walked toward the door and reached for the handle.

Your fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the doorknob and you paused. All you had to do was open the door and walk out and you could avoid so many confusing emotions and conflicting feelings.

All you had to do was twist the handle, but you didn’t. Instead, you twisted the lock. With the loud click, you turned back around to face Martin. For a few seconds, he just stood there and watched you. His gaze made you nervous in a way you had never been nervous before. It felt like he was looking at every inch of you despite the fact that you were still dressed from head to toe in your uniform.

Then he was walking toward you, and instead of backing away like you usually did, you met him halfway. His arms snaked around your waist, yours around his neck, and your lips collided. The kiss was full of passion, but it was fueled by something deeper. Every time his lips smashed against yours a wave of guilt washed over you, but then the tide of negativity was pulled back out to the ocean of emotions and you were left with nothing but want and need for the man before you.

Little words had been spoken between the two of you since he had admitted he needed you, but that was okay. Somehow, the lack of words made everything easier, almost as if, if you never spoke, it wasn’t really happening.

You could still feel the anger radiating off of Martin, but the emotion helped drive him; it allowed him to push Patricia out of his mind and trap himself in the moment with you.

Martin’s hands quickly drifted up to your chest, his palms massaging your breasts over the thick clothing before he yanked the zipper down and pushed the large jacket off of your shoulders.

You shuddered at the sudden direct contact with the cold air, but he quickly remedied that by ghosting his fingertips up and down your arms, his touch leaving behind streaks of heat behind it. Never before had you felt so many things at once and the overwhelming stimulus was already beginning to cause your head to swim.

Martin’s jacket was the next article of clothing to hit the ground, leaving both of you in your undershirt t-shirts. Reaching down, you slipped your hands under Martin’s shirt and ran your nails along the skin of his chest. Martin moaned into your mouth as he grabbed you by the waist of your pants and tugged you flush against his body.

Before you knew what was happening, Martin’s calloused hand was down your pants and rubbing you over your underwear. Your knees nearly buckled under your weight at the sudden burst of pleasure and Martin smirked into your mouth, your reaction filling him with confidence.

When you managed to regain a part of your composure, you decided that two could play at that game. Your fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of his pants for a few seconds, but once you had more room to work, you grabbed his package hard over his boxers.

Martin let out a low growl and captured your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard and drawing the smallest amount of blood. The metallic taste on both of your tongues was something that neither of you had expected but found immense satisfaction in.

For a few minutes, the two of you stood in the middle of that small, dark room, your mouths working together in a frantic but perfectly timed rhythm and your hands down each other’s pants, slowly teasing and drawing out moans of pleasure from one another.

Martin slowly worked his kisses down your jaw and neck, and when he reached your shoulder, he bit down on your skin, pushed your underwear out of the way, and plunged two fingers deep inside of you.

You let out the beginning of a scream before you buried your face into Martin’s neck to muffle your cries of euphoria. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” it had been such a long time since you had heard Martin’s voice that its low, raspy nature brought goosebumps to your skin and only increased the pleasure you were feeling right then.

“Mmm…” you could only squeak out as he curled his fingers inside of you, his other hand grabbing hard onto your ass to keep you from completely collapsing in his arms from his touch.

You clung to your fellow Sergeant hard — like your life depended on it —, your one hand continuing to stroke his shaft weakly, your movements slow and delayed as you focused on the digits and moisture between your legs and inside of you.

Suddenly, Martin pulled his fingers out of you, leaving with you an awful sense of emptiness. “N-no.” you whimpered into his ear. “No, don’t.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t be hollow for long,” he assured you as he picked you up and carried you over to the table. As soon as your ass dropped down hard onto the wooden surface, he placed his palm on your chest and pushed you down until you were lying flat on your back.

“You better not make a fucking sound,” he warned; the aggressive tone of his voice sending chills up and down your spine.

You nodded your head unconvincingly. “I won’t.”

The Sergeant made quick work of your boots, pants, and underwear. In a matter of seconds, you were stark naked from the waist down. Dipping his head lower, Martin licked a stripe between your folds. You had to force your mouth shut as you gripped onto the sides of the table. Your head pressed down hard into the wood and your back arched uncontrollably.

Every movement the man between your legs made with his mouth was laced with anger and guilt, but in a way, it made everything feel so much better.

Martin ate you out for a little while longer, his teeth grazing over your bundle of nerves once or twice as he sucked and licked all over, making sure you were completely ready for him.

With his lips shining from your juices, he straightened up again and pulled his stiff cock out. With one hand pressing onto your lower stomach to keep you in place and the other gripping his shaft, Martin teased you with himself, his full length gliding in between your folds.

“M-Martin.” his name slipped from your lips so easily that is was like you had said it like that a hundred times before.

“I said-” he pushed himself all the way inside of you in one quick, jolting motion. “-not a fucking sound.”

Instead of begging for more like you wanted to, you wrapped your legs tight around his waist, pulling him in and forcing his cock as deep inside of you as it could go.

Grabbing hard onto your hips, Martin glared down at you, his eye contact intimidating and tantalizing as he began to thrust into you over and over again. Your death-grip on the table tightened — if that was even possible — and you bit down hard on your tongue to keep yourself from letting even the smallest whimper escape.

The room was completely silent, save the sound of skin slapping against skin and laboured, ragged breathing.

You hated to admit it, but Martin knew how to fuck like you had never experienced before, and you weren’t sure if it was because he was married or in spite of it.

Your eyes met Martin’s for a brief second and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about. Was he thinking about you? Was he thinking about Patricia? Was he thinking about anything at all?

As if he could read your thoughts, Martin reached down, grabbed a fistful of your shirt, and pulled you up, tearing you from your intruding mental questions about what was in his own mind.

Hooking his arms under your knees, Martin adjusted his grip higher up on your sides and pulled you flush against him. Once again, your lips were encapsulated by his. His mouth tasted like a combination of both you and him, and the thought that his tongue that had once been between your folds was now down your throat was thrilling to no end.

The pressure began to build in your core and you could feel yourself approaching your climax, but a part of you never wanted Martin to stop fucking you. You wished you could remain in that state of sexual limbo forever.

You knew you weren’t supposed to talk, so you settled on digging your nails into his skin and throwing your head back to let him know you were close. Martin seemed to get the message because as soon as your lips pulled away from his, he began to pound into you at an alarming and aggressive rate.

You were close. God, you were so fucking close and you wanted nothing more than to tell him how good he was making you feel.

“Say my name,” Martin growled suddenly, the sound of words leaving his mouth almost startling you a little.

You lifted your head again and looked at him with furrowed brows. “But, you said-”

“I know what I said.” he buried himself inside of you to the hilt and stopped his movements altogether. “Now I’m telling you to say my fucking name.”

“Okay.” you nodded, and as he started to fuck you again, you relished in the ability to be able to allow his name to spill from your lips. “Martin…” you tested the waters and grew more confident when he didn’t snap at you or take away your pleasure again. “John…Johnny…fuck me harder.”

“Who’s the best fuck you’ve ever had?” he growled low as he pushed you further and further toward the metaphorical edge.

You clung to Martin desperately as the waves of pleasure began to build up, stronger and stronger, faster and faster. “You are,” you answered.

“No!” he lifted you up for a brief moment so he could slap you hard on the ass. “Say my goddamn name. Who’s the best fuck you’ve ever had?”

“Johnny Martin.” you fixed your response.

“Again,” he demanded.

“Johnny Martin.”

“Again.”

With one final thrust, your eyes rolled back in your head and your whole body began to shake violently in pure ecstasy. “Johnny Martin!” you screamed out, your walls contracting around him and drawing out his own orgasm.

Pulling out of you at the last second, Martin came hard onto your thigh and let out a guttural groan. As you both came down from your highs, Martin released his grip on you, unlooped his arms from your knees, and stepped away.

Once your support system was gone, you collapsed back onto the table, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Martin carefully wiped his ejaculate off of you before cleaning himself up, all signs of anger gone from him.

You watched as he zipped his pants back up and slipped his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. Sitting up slowly, you brushed a loose strand of hair out of your face and sighed. “Are we going to talk about this?”

“Probably better if we didn’t.” was all he said before flattening his hair down, unlocking the door, and disappearing from sight.

Once again, Sergeant John Martin had left you feeling confused, upset, happy, and a slew of other emotions you didn’t even want to try to begin to decipher.

With the first rays of morning light peeking through the window, all that was left to do was get dressed, get back to work, and attempt to figure out if what had just happened was a one-time thing or not.

A part of you wished it was, but a bigger part wished it wasn’t.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fanfiction #johnny martin #john martin #martin #johnny martin x reader #john martin x reader #martin x reader #hbowar #reader insert #lostinthewiind #sexy time

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mythiica · 6 years ago

Text

Reader x Sirius Oswald - Temporary Bliss

Title: Temporary Bliss

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution

Character: Sirius Oswald

Genre: porn with plot ;)

Warnings: well there let me tell you there is some kinky shit in here

Kinks: oral, dom!fem, daddy kink, desk sex (?), others i dont remember tbh

Intended Gender Audience: Female audience

Word Count: 2073 words

Other comments: this was inspired by the cab’s temporary bliss; okay so first i went really close to the theme of the song, but i still wanted it to have a happy ending so i ended up twisting it as much as i could while still trying to make it make sense… but anyways hope you like theres a lot of smut ;)

When you open the door, you immediately reach for the loose tie that hangs around his neck and pull him inside. Your motions are fluid and smooth, as if you had made a habit out of bringing him into your chambers at unsavory times.

He does not need a formal invitation anyways because he knows why you have called him. A sad smile grips the corners of his mouth upwards, but you know that he is unhappy with the arrangements. To remedy this, you slam the door shut and lock it behind it. Pressing yourself against the wood, you dip your head and throw a sultry glare at him.

“Common now, Sirius… you love doing this just as much as I do.”

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he looks at you and sighs. “Have you told Ray?” His voice is close to a whisper, like he doesn’t really want to ask, but if he didn’t the guilt would eat away at him. “You said you would tell him.”

“He was out all day, you know this.”

Before Sirius has the chance to sigh again, you pad over to him and stand between his legs. When you run your hand through his hair, he exhales slowly and melts at your touch. Taking your hand in his, he kisses your fingers and then your palm.

“I’ll tell him, don’t worry.”

He looks up at you with his large, purple eyes. “I will worry either way.”

This makes you laugh. “I know. For now though,” you continue, lifting your leg to rest your heel on the bed. You had prepared yourself for the night, and were only wearing a set of lacy intimates and a garter belt around your thigh. Sirius strokes the inside of your leg before pushing away the fabric of your underwear. One hand lands on the small of your back and pulls you closer to him. The other hand grips your thigh so that you say in place as he drags his tongue across your folds.

You release a loud moan, happy that this moment has finally arrived. You’ve been waiting for his moment the entire day, and finally, Sirius was in front of you. However, you want to tease him. So you take an uneasy step back, causing his mouth to disconnect from your heat.

Before he has a chance to inquire why you moved, you demand, “On your knees…”

Sirius raises an eyebrow, but then smiles. He unbuttons his shirt and throws his garments somewhere into the room before falling to his knees. He extends his arms to you, beckoning you back to him, and you comply. He holds you tightly in place as he resumes his task – his tongue laps at your clit, pushing your bundle every direction until you become a moaning mess.

Your essence dribbles down his chin when he brings you to your climax, and he leans back, still connected by a string of silk. Growling hungrily, you pull him up to eye level and kiss him deeply. His tongue presses into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself.

He moans into the kiss, happy with tonight’s game. Your hand presses against his strong chest, and you push him down onto the bed to relieve his hardened member from inside his boxers.

From the bed, he gives you a sly smirk, inviting you to give it your all.

The night was long and the two of you reached your highs multiple times each. When the festivities ended however, you collapse next to Sirius, panting heavily. He wraps an arm around you and kisses your neck lovingly, praising you for the sex.

Despite his affection, you turn so that your back is facing him and you tuck your arm under the pillow before going to sleep.

Sirius pays little attention to this and simply puts his arm over your waist and nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder.

A week later, Sirius is filling out some papers when you barge into his office. He is delighted to see you, so he stands from his seat and welcomes you with open arms.

“Good news, Sirius!”

Your smile brightens his day, and he cups your face, but you pull away and take a seat on his desk.

“Did you speak to Ray…?”

After the question leaves his mouth, you pout. “No, not yet. But…” you lift your skirt to reveal that you are not wearing underwear.

Sirius snaps into action and shuts the door quickly. “What are you doing?” he hisses. “Someone could have seen you!”

Your smile turns into a sly smirk. “But they didn’t~”

“(Y/n)…”

“Yes, daddy?”

He groans and rubs the back of his neck. You always knew exactly how to push his buttons, and that name especially set him off. Sauntering over to you, he grabs your ankle and pulls your leg to rest on his hip. “You’re terribly naught for doing this. Teasing me while I’m supposed to be working.”

You move to spread your legs for him, and he presses his knee to your bare cunt. With his gloved hand, Sirius grips your jaw and inserts two fingers into your mouth. Saliva dribbles from the corner of your lips as you wrap your tongue around his digits. The leather tastes almost metallic, and you wish that he would just finger you already with them, but instead, he continues to rub his knee against you.

“S-Sirius,” you whimper pitifully, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “F-Fuck me!”

Upon hearing the words, he removes his fingers from your mouth and holds onto your jaw again. “My, aren’t you demanding. You come in here and beg me to fuck you?” Sirius laughs as he lowers a hand to unzip his trousers. “Best you try and keep quiet, little lady. Wouldn’t want someone knowing you’re here…”

He rubs his lubricated glove against your slit before inserting himself into you. Immediately forgetting his words, you cry out with pleasure. However, your sound is cut short when Sirius clasps his hand over your mouth. “Quiet now, my dear. Take my cock like a good girl-”

You lean your head back as he begins to thrust in and out of you. His cock fills you and rubs against your walls, driving you insane with pleasure. Panting heavily, you lie down on his desk, your hair sprawled out around your head. The tip of his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot, and you throw your arms out in an attempt to grab something and stabilize yourself, but instead, you push a stack of papers off of the edge.

Looking at Sirius, you whine. “Sorry, daddy~”

Dangerous smirk tugging at his lips, he leans over you and kisses your neck. “You’ll be very sorry indeed, my dear…”

When Ray calls Sirius for an emergency, private meeting, he’s immediately worried that the king has found out about his tryst with you. Still, Sirius swallows the secret and answers as normally as he can.

“You asked for me?”

Ray is standing by the window, looking at the courtyard behind the castle. Although Sirius is in the doorway, he can see you bouncing around with Seth in tow. Your hair and dress billow in the wind as you wear a bright smile.

Sirius approaches the window and looks with Ray. You catch a glimpse of the both of them in the window, so you stop and wave. Sirius does not move, even though he knows you’re waving at him. Instead, Sirius allows Ray to motion back.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“Yes?”

“You’ve been acting a bit strange lately, Sirius. Is everything alright?”

“Strange?”

Ray takes a seat and nods. “I understand that you’ve been working hard lately, but I do hope you know that there are others that can help you with your work.”

Sirius exhales with relief, but guilt continues to gnaw at his insides. “I’m alright, thank you for worrying. Just have a lot going on…”

“I trust you. If you need time off, then let me know. I don’t think it will be a problem at all.”

He more Ray talks, the deeper the knife twists into his gut. It’s not like you and Ray were together romantically, but the entire kingdom is expecting you to marry Ray eventually. If anything, it just felt like a personal betrayal because Ray believed in him so much.

“If you insist that everything is alright…” Ray waves his hand, dismissing Sirius.

Sirius turns the corner, but his arm catches in something and he’s pulled into a tight crevice of the castle. He yelps, but calms himself when he realizes it’s you. Smiling, you raise a finger to his lips to silence him.

“I’m really horny now-”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off with a deep kiss. He bites your tongue, causing you to reel back. “Oh~? Does that mean you are too?”

Sirius growls and slams his palms down on their side of your head, successfully trapping you against his body. “This can’t go on anymore. We have to go public.”

Your jaw drops and you sink against the stone. “W-Where is this coming from?”

“Either we formalize our relationship, or there won’t be one.”

His words cut through your head, and you lower your head. In a quiet voice, you ask, “I don’t understand… do you not like what we have?”

Realizing that he spoke too harshly, Sirius clasps your hands together. “No, (Y/n). I love it… and I love you. But these little rendezvous that we’re having… why not just allow me to court you properly?” He kisses your knuckles, looking at you with large eyes. “I’d be honored if you would accept me as your suitor.”

The words catch in your throat, and you don’t know how to reply. It never quite occurred to you to ‘go public,’ as Sirius had put it, mainly because you feared what Blanc had said about falling in love. Should you fall in love with Sirius… you would not be able to go back home. Despite this threat, you had given him your heart. Every time you tried to distance yourself, it ended up backfiring.

For example, the night he came to your chambers to worship you, indeed you had turned away from him, but you woke up in the middle of the night to find your limbs tangled with his. His heartbeat was stead and comforted you back to sleep. Then again when you caught Sirius in his office – there was an ache in your heart all day, and you knew only spending time with Sirius would remedy you.

Every time you found yourself longing about home, your thoughts drifted to him, and upon realizing it, you knew that you were in love with him.

You fall against his chest and nod your head. No words need to to be exchanged, for the both of you understand that the feelings you have are mutual for one another.

Sirius unbuttons his shirt after a long day of drill practice. He had been missing out on the past few work out sessions, and this time, Fenrir really kicked his ass. Sweat runs down his muscles and he drags his hand through his hair, pushing it back so he can see his fingers.

You purr from the other side of the room, “Are you trying to tease me, or are you just really bad at undressing yourself~?”

He looks over his shoulders and winks, coaxing you to come forward. “Why don’t you help me then, little lady?”

Bending over onto your hands a knees, you crawl across the covers to his side and work your nibble fingers through the fabric as to release him from his shirt as quickly as possible. Your lips collide with the side of his neck and you teeth on his skin, making him groan with pleasure.

“Little lady, what are you doing?”

“Giving you a hickey-”

Sirius chuckles and pulls you into his lap. “And why is that?”

“Because now that people know, I’m just marking my territory.” You give him a small smile.

He laughs and nuzzles the crook of your neck. “By that logic, I should be doing the same, no?” His fingers trace the curve of your jaw before he tucks stray strands of hair behind your ear. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

#ikerev #ikemen revolution #sirius oswald #cybird #otome #sin #i have lost all my shame #what is angst #there is only smut

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flyswhumpcenter · 5 years ago

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. Green deltas are for requested prompts.)

There is no better way to study a character than to stick them in a situation where they're all alone. No outside disturbance, that way! Hell yeah! I've wanted to write one more of these "character has to survive" oneshots for a little while so I jumped on that occasion. Felix is a pretty fun character to try and a get a hold of. I suppose I've always liked edgy-ass guys. Let's justify every instance of out-of-characterness in this oneshot with blood loss!

It’s longer than I expected it to be, tbh.

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Get Out Alive

Summary: He can't afford to die here.

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses (Post-Timeskip)

Wordcount: 1.8K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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A swooping motion of a fierce-looking, sharp-bladed axe.

A slight moment of inattention, given to another occurrence on the battlefield, misplaced worry.

A few droplets of crimson, shards of fabric, drops of sweat flow in the air along with the branches of the trees.

A move on the other side, of a sword, gets even more poured on the stomped grass.

A body collapses on the ground, another falls on its knee, a hand touching the stained soil.

And soon it crashes into a flow.

With heavy footsteps, the survivor rises to his feet, swaying. His fingers fumble with the edges of his soaked clothing, tips tinted in red, as he tries to examine the wound. It’s a deep slash, red all over from where his eyes can pry at it, and the stench would have overwhelmed him if he wasn’t so used to defeating enemies and watching their bodies empty themselves from their blood.

Then a wild thought as the world starts spinning: what if he stayed and defeated more enemies? He can’t leave the battlefield like a coward, can he? That’s not how he does it, he isn’t a fucking loser who’s afraid of dying, isn’t he? Death is nothing compared to the thrill of battle!

A familiar, firm voice calls out to him.

Felix, retreat!

The professor… No. Their leader. Their strategist, their commander on the battlefield. He has to obey their order, doesn’t he? Fuck this shit… Fuck this shit to Hell and back, he wants to continue fighting and do something that isn’t laying around doing jack shit, goddammit, don’t let him down like this!

Another voice, even more familiar, serious and severe, yet obviously concerned. Urgh.

Felix, you damn idiot, retreat before you get yourself killed!

It’s Ingrid’s, who is flying on her mount right over his head, a blurry image before she goes to spear an opponent about to slash his throat with the scooping motion of a rapier. Backed against a wall that doesn’t exist, he sheathes his dripping sword away, arm still pressed against the wound, and decides he’d be better off not getting harassed either.

His feet feel heavy, as if the light armour he wears got thicker and more constrictive since he’s put it on. Lethargy courses through his four limbs, one arm dropping by his side, weight pinching forward constantly. His balance is almost non-existent: he swings from one side to the other like an irregular pendulum, senses numbed and will to fight about to give up and in on him.

He resorts to using a corpse’s lance as a crutch, almost tripping on nothing as he kneels to get it. Disgraceful. Disgusting. That’s like showing the most weakness you can in one motion, in one decision. A fierce, proud swordsman like him shouldn’t have to rely on such cheap techniques to even make it out of the field without meeting his end. At best, he’s pathetic.

Despite the nausea taking a toll on him, he doesn’t taste bile coming up in the back of his throat.

Instead, he tastes iron. Bitter, filtered, liquid iron.

He’s become the picture of vulnerability and, as if knowing that wasn’t enough, everything in him constantly reminds him of that fact. Every noise seems so far away, the voices of his comrades like the sound of the lance he’s stolen, as if his ears were filled with fabric. His view is swimming more and more as he advances, hardly able to put a foot before the other without tripping, to the point he can soon only see blurry spots of colours and hear distorted sounds.

Dammit, this isn’t good… If his sight fails on him even further, he’s no better than dead in the eyes of anyone on this battlefield. He can’t waste precious time and resources on this, he’s got to get out of this mess on his own, and that’s only now that he realizes he’s afraid of death. Afraid of the eternal void, of the darkness of the everlasting slumber, and he doesn’t want it. Not now, not here. He still has things to do, things to partake in, and he can’t afford to meet his demise here.

He can’t afford to bleed out when he’s lost who-knows-how much of it already.

Speaking feels like it’d be a waste of energy, so he resolves to mentally motivating himself to the nearest healer. He has to find Mercedes, who wasn’t too far from him at the beginning, but it’s getting hard to distinguish anything in the sea of blur and vague. There’s no way to tell who is an ally and who is an enemy anymore and the screams roaring around him are nothing but a vast, undetermined, messy potpourri of noise. Talk about an environment to find your footing in.

A foot forward, then the other, then the lance… and he trips miserably on the ground, coughing against the grass, smelling the iron of fallen weapon and bodily fluids. It’s disgusting and repulsive, more than it has any right to be, and he gets nauseous to the point of almost fainting. Yet, fighting the world that keeps spinning to the point of being unrecognizable and the fluids that want to exit from his mouth and wounds, he gets up and continues, for once relieved that no fight is happening around him.

He won’t end up like Glenn, not today, not here, and not in those circumstances! That much he swears on his life!

(That’s ironic…)

His thoughts are on repeat. Don’t die. Don’t fall. Don’t falter. Don’t get distracted. Don’t engage a fight.

Don’t perish. Don’t trip. Don’t fail. Don’t get your attention somewhere else. Don’t start fighting someone.

Don’t lose your life. Don’t lose your footing. Don’t lose your composure. Don’t lose your focus. Don’t lose your reason because your honour got the best of you.

Don’t die, Felix. You can’t afford it, none of you can afford it.

The lance breaks between his fingers, tired of supporting his unbalanced weight to itself. His legs are about to give in, but his vision is dampening with black and he can’t find another corpse to steal from. Even in his darkest times, fate gives up in him and tells him to find somewhere else to go, to see if the green isn’t less red in that imaginary destination. The only land he’s getting promised here is the realm of the dead and he doesn’t want to be there.

He’s glad to be alive, thank you, and dying isn’t pleasing him.

Shivers wreck his frame from head to toes. He feels cold, so cold under the fur of his armour, so cold under the blazing heat of the sun that made him sweat barely minutes ago. Time is torturing him, making him think he’s going to die a moment, giving him back some vigour the next. He feels sick, but it’s no sickness that’s affecting him.

His legs end up giving in in the middle of the field. He tries to drag himself along the grass to make it to safety, to a healer, to something dammit; but his arms are too weak from supporting the rest against a glorified, broken stick, and can’t be expected to lift his weight once again. A glass canon he’s always been, a glass canon he’ll die as. That’s it.

This is the bitter end and it feels as unsatisfying as it could possibly have.

His eyes shut close and don’t open even when he begs them to. Vague echoes dance in his mind to taunt him –the sound of the living being alive and enjoying life— as he attempts one last time to rise to his knees. His bones have transformed into lead, everything is either too far or too soon. It sure is his end, (not the end, his end, that’s painfully obvious), and it’s an end he doesn’t want to see.

It’s dying in disgrace, dishonour and loneliness, surrounded by the enemy, not unlike what his brother must have gone through during the Tragedy. Fitting, but displeasing to say the least.

With nothing to see, touch or feel with, he’s stuck waiting for the finale, lying on his back, a lethargic end on the wound that’s going to cost him so, so much. Talk about a miserable defeat, unfit of his mastery. It could have been avoided too, if he hadn’t seen Sylvain almost getting wounded himself… In the end, you really are supposed to stand on your own and be independent, don’t you?

Yeah… That’s funny. Life’s funny. All he has left is to mentally laugh about how pathetic he must look like at the moment. It makes you like or hate it, and then plays around with you until you’re either tired of it or addicted to the feeling of being alive. It’s living for the sake of living until you die and realize how much you have left to do. If he dies today, he won’t ever get to see his house prosper after the death of both heirs. He won’t get to win against the professor he’s sworn to vanquish in a spar someday. He won’t get to see if Sylvain will calm down, if the boar prince (excuse him, Dimitri) will ever come back from the mental war, if his kingdom will win the war.

It’s funny that he cares about all of this so much now. Earlier, he was just busy trying to survive and retreat. It’s amusing in all the wrong meanings of the term.

Death is funny too if you twist it one way or the other, isn’t it?

An echo of a voice comes in his vague direction.

Felix!!

It feels like Annette’s voice, but he isn’t sure. It could be Mercedes or even Ingrid, considering how far he’s gone. Footsteps accompany it, until it seems like he’s getting held. It’s not like he can even see who it is to be sure about the identity of the person lifting him up from the ground.

Oh my Goddess, he’s bleeding out…!

The voice frets over herself, reminding his body to feel pain when it’s forgotten how to have anything going through it other than numbness and powerlessness. It’s a strangely welcome slight change, even if he grits his teeth and almost screams in a broken screech.

H-hang on, Felix, I’ll bring you to safety! Don’t die on me okay?!

He tries nodding. Must be the least reassuring sight ever, but fretting won’t be of use to anyone, so he just does it anyway. The warmth of this person is soothing, why not try to do something in exchange?

Funny that hope comes back when despair is settled.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #felix hugo fraldarius #cw blood #bleeding #injury #bad things happen bingo #bthb 2

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chillerhjemmeisak · 8 years ago

Note

Could you do Noora going back to London, sort of the other way around from William coming back to Oslo? :)

“This would all be somuch easier if you just learned to do what I asked!”

William winced at thesound of the front door slamming as his father stormed out. It wasn’texactly rare that William pissed him off enough to illicit such areaction but each and every time it managed to dig an even deeperwound in his chest.

“Fy faen”, hesighed, dragging a hand down his face in exhaustion. Feeling astrange sense of relief at being able to speak Norwegian, his fathernot liking the sound of it when he could scarcely understand it,William sighed.

Collapsing onto thecouch, William brought his knees up and sat back against the arm.Dropping his head onto his arms and groaning in frustration, hethought back to his phone. Sitting opposite him on the couch, havingbeen thrown precariously by his father when he caught William textingrather than listening to another useless rant.

William stared at thephone, contemplating whether or not texting Chris would help releaseany of the pent up aggression he felt. It had become habit; textingChris a simple flame emoji was enough at this point to alert his bestfriend that he needed a distraction. Almost every time it came in theform of Chris updating him about Eva, until that bordered on updatesabout Noora too much and William had to ask him to stop.

London was amazing. Itwas both better and worse than Oslo, providing him with a much neededrespite. But, where Oslo held memories of Nicolai and his troubledupbringing, London was littered with memories of Noora.

Her coat, still tuckedinto the closet, was one the many imprints she had left on William’sLondon apartment. Her make up remained tucked into a cupboard in thebathroom and the bedroom was still overflowing with her influence.From the seemingly endless supply of clothes she had left behind tothe constant whiff of her perfume William got when he entered theroom, the bedroom was still as much Noora’s as it was his.

When she had left,William hadn’t expected it to last. He knew Noora,in a way that very few, perhaps not even Eva, knew her. And he knewthat sometimes she was spontaneous and irrational.

Butwhen the first 24 hours had passed and she hadn’t returned, Williamhad to really consider that she really might have jumped on a planeback to Oslo. When the first week had been up and she hadn’treturned, William had given up, tearing through the house to figureout if she really had left.

Whilemost of her clothes remained, which was arguably why William hadn’tbelieved she’d really left in the first place, all of her valuableswere gone. Her favourite bracelet, never worn but always stored inher jewellery box, was missing. Her books, laptop, pictures andpostcards were all missing. Her favourite clothes, including her topfrom Madrid, were all vacant.

Itwas only then that William started to realise she had really left.

Ithad been hard to accept at first, but by now William was used to thedull ache in his chest when he sat in the apartment, surrounded bysilence. Noora hated silence and as such, their apartment was alwaysfull of noise from music to her endless phone calls to Eva.

Hisfather had only seemed to worsen when Noora left. When she wasaround, he had been civil, sometimes even kind. He had purposely besofter on William lest Noora stand up to him, something William knewshe wouldn’t hesitate to do.

Nowthat she was gone however, his father had become cruel. With everymention of her name, William’s father grew more and more angry, andresentful of that fact that William had not yet moved on.

ButWilliam didn’t want to.

Sohe really wasn’t sure why he had lied to Chris. Telling his bestfriend that he had found a new girlfriend had seemed like a good ideaat the time, one that reflected his desire to get Chris off his back.Chris was his best friend but that meant that the boy was neverafraid to call William out, and had been doing so every day sinceNoora left. It had seemed like the easiest solution to get him tostop; to never have to hear the words “Come back to Oslo” everagain, because with every time he heard them he felt his resolvebreak a little more.

Williamsighed deeply, slumping back into the couch and spreading his legsout to lay down. Reaching down and grabbing his phone, he shot aquick text to work to let them know he wasn’t coming in beforedropping his head back against the couch.

Itall seemed to happen at once.

Firstthere was a ping! andwhen William looked down there was a text lighting up his screen.

Heraised an eyebrow at Chris’ message, a simple “Open the door”.William gaped at his phone; had Chris seriously come all the way fromOslo without telling him first?

Then,there was a knock at the door but William didn’t move to answer it.The knock was far too soft to possibly be Chris’ and the silence thatfollowed was so unlike his best friend that William immediatelyturned to his phone to text Chris back.

From William, 9:16am

Hvafaen, Chris? What are you playing at?

To William, 9:16am

WTFbro, open the door.

From William, 9:17am

Areyou seriously outside my door right now?

To William, 9:17am

Maybe.No. I dont know.

From William, 9:17am

Youjust text me to open the door

To William, 9:17am

soopen the door

From William, 9:18am

WTFare you playing at Chris? Why are you here?

To William, 9:18am

cosim a really fucking good friend

From William, 9:18am

To William, 9:19am

Pleasecome outside.

Weneed to talk.

Williamfrowned at the change in tone and with a groan of frustration, pushedhimself from the couch and moved towards the door. He hovered for amoment, sighing deeply before swinging open the door.

Andhe froze.

Noorasmiled nervously, handing Chris’ phone back to him. Chris stoodcautiously off to one side, car keys hanging from his finger and asmirk on his lips.

Williamquickly tore his eyes from his best friend and focused his attentionon Noora.

Shewas exactly as he remembered and a part of him felt stupid forexpecting her to have changed so much. But William felt like he had,as though her leaving had shaped him into a completely unrecognisableperson.

Butunlike him, Noora still looked stunning. Her hair was knotted anduntidy and her lipstick was applied haphazardly but her eyes werebright and wide and as vulnerable as he remembered. Her lower lipquivered slightly and she appeared as uncomfortable in the silence ashe expected.

“Halla”,she finally spoke, breathless.

Williamknew he was staring, gaping even, but he couldn’t help it. Swallowingand averting his eyes momentarily to calm down, he spoke.

“Halla.”

Theair between them was charged, the tension not sexual but so thickthat William expected on of them to break down any moment; and heprided himself on not often doing so.

Nooralooked just as unsure, as though so afraid to say the wrong thingthat she would endure the silence in order to savour the moment.

Thatdidn’t appear likely however as the moment William opened his mouthto speak, he was cut off by the all too familiar voice of Chris.

“Faen,just kiss her already” his best friend moaned loudly.

Noorarolled her eyes and the spell was broken. Turning to Chris, shesmiled softly but with obvious exasperation. “Thanks for getting mehere Chris, but you can seriously go now.”

Chrislooked offended for a moment but the grin that followed showed hewasn’t annoyed. “No problem.” Turning to William he said proudly,“See how good of a friend I am?”

Williamrolled his eyes, leaning against the door frame and looking pointedlyat his best friend. Chris seemed to get the picture and quickly movedto leave. Just as he reached the stairs leading down to the lobby, hefroze.

“Almostforgot”, he laughed awkwardly, turning around and dropping the carkeys into William’s palm. “Here.”

Williamstared down at his hands in confusion but before he could ask, Chrisshrugged. “If you’re wondering, yeah I brought your old car toLondon. And yes, I charged all of this to your card.”

Withthat, he spun on his heel and left as dramatically as expected ofChris, throwing over his shoulder an obnoxious “have fun!” Wherehe was going, William didn’t know. Nor did he care.

Thesilence settled once more and William knew he had to say something.In his state, he somehow managed to stutter out, “You came back?”

Nooraturned back to him quickly, as though she had forgotten he was there.The look in her eyes told him that wasn’t the case however andWilliam watched as a single tear gathered in her eye.

“Ishouldn’t have left”, she said adamantly.

Williamshook his head softly. “No”, he said. “It’s a good thing youdid.” At Noora’s look of confusion, he continued. “You needed to.For you. For me too.”

Nooranodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Aftera moment, William took a deep, steadying breath. He opened the doorfurther and with as straight of a face as he could manage, he noddedNoora inside.

“Let’stalk then.”

Hope you liked it, Nonnie

#emma answers #ask #skam prompt #my writing #skam #noorhelm #penetrator chris #p!chris #noora sætre #noora amalie sætre #william magnusson #skam willhelm #oneshot

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artificialqueens · 8 years ago

Text

Life and Death {Biadore} Chapter 1 -C*NT

A/N: Yes your eyes are not deceiving you, I have written something other then AHAHAC. I know this is silly but I was really nervous about submitting this because its so different from what I’ve written before. This is based loosley off of a prompt I saw awhile back: Before person A is taken to the afterlife, the Grim Reaper (or “Death” as I named him) has to help person A with one final task. However I am also loosely basing this off of the Egg Theory, google it if you don’t know what it is it’s quite interesting. This in no way reflects upon my feelings about religion, afterlife, etc. I just thought it would be something different, IDEK if I’m going to post more of this tbh so let me know if you want more. ❤️ P.S. Special thanks to Splatt for looking over this for me and encouraging me to post.

It was a simple procedure, the Anesthesiologist had told him. They had done it a million times over, they told him. He’d be put to sleep so that they can pull his wisdom teeth out, and then he’d wake up looking like a chipmunk.

Simple.

All of the ice cream and soup he could ever ask for would be provided afterwards, which was one of the only things he could look forward to since he wouldn’t be able to sing for a couple of weeks.

He wouldn’t have to go to work for a couple of days either, which was good. He needed the break.

He was excited, despite the likely annoyance of his mom trying to take embarrassing videos while he came down from the high.

But his case wasn’t like the million other times that they had claimed went off without a hitch.

Because he never woke up.

Danny opened his eyes and discovered he was not in the same room he had been put to sleep in.

It smelled…odd. It felt like he was in an office of some sort. The smell of cleaning products and musk overwhelmed his senses. The room he was in was very dark, only a side lamp illuminating the room. What looked to be an antique rug decorated the hardwood floor, and he was in a luxurious king size bed with some of the finest sheets he had ever felt.

He noticed a dark hooded figure sitting on a chaise lounge in the corner of the room and jumped up, scared.

“Who are you?!” Danny gasped. His heart was pumping wildly, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He felt like was going to be murdered or something! He was paralyzed with fear, and tried to see who the person was underneath the hood.

The figure stood up and approached him slowly. Danny couldn’t tell if they were a man or a woman, but he noticed the hands had an olive tone complexion.

“If this is a joke it’s not funny, man!” Danny’s voice cracked. His whole body was trembling with fear. His hands shook as he watched the person come closer. This was weird, he had never heard of someone having this bad of a trip after they had their wisdom teeth taken out.

“Hello Daniel. I’m Death.” The hooded figure smiled, Danny could see their blinding white teeth deep underneath the hoodie.

“Death?” Danny repeated confused. What kind of name was Death? This was a terrible joke, really. Was he getting jumped?

“Did I stutter?” Death asked annoyed.

“S-sorry.” Danny apologized. Usually he was much more talkative, but he was so afraid he didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t you have any questions? Like how you died, where are we, etc?” Death asked sarcastically as they crossed their arms.

“I’m d-dead?” Danny asked bewildered.

“God, you’re slow to catch on aren’t you?” Death chuckled. When Danny didn’t say anything, they sighed and then continued.

“Yes, you’re dead. You died of an overdose of anesthesia.” Death said.

He was dead, Danny thought. What would his parents and friends think? Danny’s lips began to tremble as he collapsed to the floor. He was all his mom had, what would she do without him? What about his dad? Would he even care? His friends, his fellow queens, his bandmates… it was all so overwhelming to him.

Death sat down next to him and attempted to comfort him.

“Your parents are fine, they’re going through the grieving process fairly normal. Your friends are gonna take a little bit of time to heal however, since you were so young.” Death explained.

“What the fuck? Can you read my mind?” Danny asked with wide eyes, not even focusing on what they were saying.

“Yes, Daniel.” Death grinned.

That’s creepy, Danny thought. When he realized Death most likely heard that, he smirked. Whoops.

“Ah, there’s the smile. First one in your afterlife, congrats queen.” Death chuckled.

“Queen? You knew I was a drag queen?”

“Of course. I know everything there is to know about you Daniel.”

Danny pondered that for a moment. They literally knew everything there was about him. That was kind of cool, but again creepy at the same time.

“Who are you really? Why can’t I see your face?” Danny asked.

Death laughed.

“Trust me queen, this is not a mug you’d want to see.”

“Why not?”

Death thought about that for a moment. They weren’t completely unattractive, at least in their true form. The only one who would be able to see them for who they really were would be their soulmate. At this point, Death had given up on that fairytale. There would never be a soulmate for them. No use in scaring the poor kid and getting lectured by God for the millionth time.

“So, I’m here to help you with your final task before I take you to wherever you’re supposed to go.” Death changed the subject.

“Final task?” Danny asked confused.

“Yeah. Is there anything you wanted to do but couldn’t? For example, travel the world, be rich, win a competition..”

Danny was thinking. Had he accomplished everything he wanted to in his life? He was mildly famous when he died, thanks to Ru Pauls Drag Race. He got to travel the world a few times over, so that wasn’t it. He was well off in his life, not rich but not poor either. He didn’t end up winning drag race, either time that he was on the show since he walked out the second time. But there was one thing he never got to do…

“I wanted to find my soulmate.” Danny confessed.

Death was silent. Danny let them process his request, he didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

Well until a few minutes of silence went by.

Death cackled loudly, bent over as they gripped what appeared to be their knees. Danny looked at them annoyed. What was so funny?

“Seriously? That’s it? That’s really what you want your final task to be?” Death asked.

Danny looked confused. Wasn’t that a good last task? He really couldn’t think of anything else that he wanted to do.

Death sighed.

“Most people want the answer to the meaning of life, or to live as a celebrity or something of the sorts. But if that’s what you want, very well.”

Death snapped their fingers and a compass-like device appeared in Danny’s hand. It was circular, with a gold embroidered design encrusted with small rubies on the back and sides of it. There was a circular touch screen in the middle, reminding him of his iPhone back on Earth. There was a shiny gold button on what appeared to be the top of the device.

“The button to turn it on is on the top, you should test it before we go. Your soulmate’s name and picture should come up regardless of where we’re at right now, so here’s the moment of truth I guess. You’ll go back to Earth to find whoever the lucky person is, and once you complete your last task, I’ll escort you to where you need to go.” Death explained bored.

What a boring last task, Death thought. They watched Danny looking at the device with wide eyes and amusement.

“Any century now, Daniel.”

“You’re so pushy, chill! It’s Danny by the way.” Danny said annoyed.

Death’s lips curled up in amusement. This one was sassy, they thought.

Danny pressed the top button wearily and the device started scrolling through millions and millions of people and their pictures. The device was scrolling through the pictures so quickly that Danny couldn’t really make out any of the names or faces.

He noticed a change in the pace and realized he would find out any moment now.

This was it, he was going to finally find the person that he was made for.

The scrolling slowed down, little by little until finally it stopped on a picture he never would’ve expected. The device made a dinging noise, almost ominous sounding.

Death.

Danny felt the color drain out of his face.

He froze, looking up from the device at Death, who he couldn’t even see.

This had to be a joke, right?

He was unusually quiet for someone who had just found his soulmate, Death thought.

“What, are they not up to your standards?” Death teased.

“U-um that’s not it exactly..” Danny trailed off. He went to go sit down on the bed. He needed a minute to process this.

His thoughts weren’t giving anything away, Death realized annoyed.

“Let me see the damn thing.” Death snapped their fingers and the device was in their hand. But, to their surprise the picture wasn’t an ugly or unsuitable person from Earth.

It was them.

Death stared blankly at the device and then started cackling loudly. Danny looked up at them, scared. Why were they laughing? How could his soulmate literally be Death? He didn’t even know Death was a person until a few minutes ago! Danny just thought you died and either went to heaven or hell or somewhere inbetween.

“That was a great joke Satan, but not today! Not ever at this point. Let’s reset it and try it again.” Death yelled towards the ground.

“Does Satan really make jokes like that?” Danny asked amused.

“Yeah, it gets annoying. Try it again, this time whoever it is should come up.”

Soon the device was back in Danny’s hands.

He pressed the button again and watched it scroll wildly until it slowed to a crawl.

This was it, the real moment of truth. Danny hoped that the real person would come up on it this time.

The picture it stopped on again was Death.

“I-it’s you..” Danny gasped.

Death froze. They had been waiting milleniums for a person to be their soulmate. Death thought the concept of a soulmate for them didn’t even exist after a while. They thought it was just a joke that God liked to make every now and then, when they would have dinner together.

“That’s impossible.” Death argued.

“How is it impossible? It keeps showing your picture!” Danny exclaimed scared. “I don’t even know what you look like, all I can see are your hands which just give away that you’re some sort of latin descent! This is so unfair.”

“Wait, you can see my hands?” Death asked bewildered. Usually, their victims could only see their bones. If they asked to see what Death looked like, when they would remove the hood to see a rotting skeleton. Not their true form.

“Yeah, when you were laughing at me I saw your teeth too. You have really shiny white teeth.” Danny observed.

Death was, for the first time in their life, petrified. Not one of their many, many many, victims over the course of time has ever been able to see who they really were or what they actually looked like. The fact that this young man had been able to see their teeth and hands was terrifying.

Suddenly, Death was very self conscious about how they looked. What if they weren’t up to the young man’s standards when the hood was removed? What if they were unattractive to him?

Death wasn’t even sure if this was a joke or not. Death sighed and then realized they could find out if this was true if they swallowed their pride.

“There’s only one thing we can do now I guess.” Death finally said.

“What’s that?” Danny asked.

“We gotta talk to the big guy about this.” Death muttered.

#life and death #biadore #bianca del rio #adore delano #c*nt #rpdr fanfiction #submission

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