#i remember that morning i heard a distant buzzing when i woke up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frekydeki · 3 years ago

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Of Liars and Thieves Pt 2

A/n | wow, it’s been a long time, huh??? Well, here I am finally with Part 2 :) I went ahead and tagged everyone that mentioned a part two in the comments of the first part, I hope this was okay :)) All in all, thank you guys for loving this work as much as I loved writing it. I hope this is a good conclusion to this hecked up and painful scenario 💕 xoxo

Pairing | EX- Bakugo Katsuki x EX- Reader, Todoroki Shouto x Reader

Warnings | Mentions of cheating, pure angst, toxic relationship

Part 1

Masterlist

The drive home was horrendously and agonizingly long. Truth be told, you don’t remember much of it; just the blurred and inky lights against the car window, the way you felt like you were going to suffocate, the constant buzzing of your phone, and Todoroki’s warm hand tight over your own. You don’t recall the blubbering words you dumped out to Todoroki throughout the night, but you woke up this morning to him sprawled on the couch and quietly snoring away the nights stress.

You slept for shit, apparent by the redness of your wet eyes and the dark circles placed under them. Todoroki was up each time he heard you hiccup with a sob, so you doubt he has it much better than you right now... Pulling the blanket that he’s kicked off in his fretful sleep back over his balled-up form, you brush the hair away from his eyes, and straighten yourself.

You stand in the middle of your quiet living room. With a distant look in your swollen eyes, you stare first out of your balcony door, then at the blank wall next to your tv, and lastly down your dark hallway… What are you supposed to do? You take a few steps toward the empty corner of your apartment you should call your dining room — but there’s no dining table — without any particular destination in mind. Where are you going? Where should you go?

There’s a numbness that has settled in your chest, and you’re not sure if it feels heavy or light; either way, it hurts. You swallow and find your attention being drawn to how dry and scratchy your throat is. You want water. You step into your kitchen and stare at the closed cabinets, mind rushing blank yet again. You open the cabinet but find no cups waiting to be used. To your left is a sink full of dishes, and all three of your cups.

Shutting the cabinet with a sigh and closing your eyes, you walk back out of the kitchen to resume standing aimlessly in the vacant dining room. What a hollow apartment. You can’t afford much — a couch, desk, coffee table, and a picture hanging on the wall are the only thing that accompany your TV in your living room — and you’d come to terms with the barren look of your white walls… That is, until Bakugo got you a small golden picture frame to hang in your living room. You loved it so much. It’s in the center of a lonely wall. The centerpiece of your home, you trudge your way to the dreaded picture frame.

You stop in your tracks and suck in a harsh breath. The corners of your mouth burrow deep into your cheeks to try and stop your lips from quivering. That asshole. That absolute, stupid, mean asshole. Your nights melancholy has given way to rage.

How could he do this to you? He could he- How – How did he tell himself that that was okay? Trembling hands snatch up the photo displayed on your wall, and you squeeze it so tight your knuckles turn pale and begin to ache. Maybe you’ll break it. You want it to shatter, and you want to tear that stupid fucking picture up. Why does he look so happy when he knew what he was doing to you? You don’t want to remember. Yet your stomach twists at the familiar way his hair is darkened with the oceans water, and where your hand is placed on his bare chest.

You remember the smell of the ocean water in his hair, the way his sun warmed his skin. You spent hours swimming together, legs and arms tangled under those waves, bodies so close you could’ve become one person. You can faintly remember how light your chest felt with him, like your head and heart were above the clouds. The memory of how good it felt to be there with him stabs at your aching body.

Your hands loosen their tight hold on the picture; his smile is so beautiful. A confident smile that makes you bubbly inside, that warms you up like a hug, and makes you selfish to claim it all for your own. He looks so happy. Like he has the whole world wrapped under his arm and tucked to his chest. Was he thinking about her even during that trip? In this photo, was she on his mind while he smiled at you like that. You spent your days on that beach memorizing each crevice of his body… When you laid on those sheets in front of him, vulnerable and trembling at each of his touches, who was on his mind? Why did he close his eyes so much? You remember the look in his eye, but you wonder at what he was imagining while he kept them closed.

With a loud thud against the floor, the picture lands face down, and you stiffly walk away from it and back to your room. You’re out of breath by the time you’re pushing your bedroom door open, and your body is becoming heavier by the second. What are you supposed to do?

“I hate you.” You whisper with a cracking voice, hoping that maybe saying it out loud will make it less consuming. Sitting on your bed and pulling your knees to your chest, your body feels like it braces for an impact. “I hate you so much.” You let your head fall onto your knees. “What did I do...” Your hoarse voice trails off as your body rejects the air in your lungs. This is all you can do, — surrender your hands and endure — you suppose.

Clamping your hand over your mouth, you try to strangle your sobs into a quiet whine. Sound travels easily between your thin apartment walls. Todoroki is sleeping soundly in the next room over. If you bother him yet again with your hysterics, you’re not quite sure what you’ll do. For now, you’ll just hide this from Todoroki… He shouldn’t have to see you like this. It’ll only hurt him.

Something’s buzzing on your nightstand. It’s loud. It’ll wake Todoroki up, and you can’t have that! Not while your face is swollen with tears because of Katsuki. What is Katsuki doing right now? Is he crying too?

With a clatter, your phone falls off of your nightstand, effectively drawing your attention again. It continues to buzz against your carpet, that dreaded name tumbling around your mind lighting up your screen; you’re surprised it hasn’t died yet. Why didn’t you turn it off? Or block him? You grab your phone with your face wiping clean of all emotions. He called all night last night. Left message after message. He poured his fucking heart out to you. Each time your heart would start to sway, and you’d think “Maybe I can forgive him.” But then, you remember.

“I was really into it at first. Seeing him cuddle up to you was hilarious, only for him to turn around and try to fuck me in the next room over with you completely oblivious to it at all…”

Your body rolls with a wave of nausea… He’s probably said all of these things to her too.

Bringing the phone to your ear, you let your eyes stutter shut, and strongly, harshly say, “Katsuki.”

“Y/n!” His voice is hoarse. Like hes been screaming all night. Like he’s been crying. Suffering just as much as you. The heavy breaths and sniffling coming from his side of the line puts a twisted smile on your lips as you feel the muscles in your back relax; you rest your body against the headboard of your bed and turn your eyes up to the ceiling. “Listen to me.” There’s an urgency — a command — cracking in his voice. “Baby, listen,” he fumbles over his words. You’re a little disappointed that his words are so agitated and disorganized right now. Doesn’t he have an emergency monologue ready to give you about why he is the way he is and why you should forgive him? “I didn’t mean to do this—“

“So what?” You snap at him with a sneer and an uncharacteristically sharp tone, “You accidentally told me you liked me to get in Rei’s pants? It was just a mistake that you slept in my bed and used me to get what you want? Just a little fucking coincidence?” Your words are pointed, direct, and hard, but hot tears are still itching your cheeks.

“No.” A gravelly groan falls from the back of his throat, wet with tears, “Will you just listen to me—“

“All I have ever done is listen to you Katsuki. I believed every word you told me; I trusted you and gave you every stupid piece of myself. And look what it got me.”

“You didn’t give me time to explain yesterday.”

“What is there to explain?”

“That nothing ever happened! To tell you the fucking truth! That I never slept with Rei.” You’re quiet.

“Then will you tell me about New Years?” You remember Rei mentioning it while you argued with Katsuki. You can hear the frustration in his tone as he smacks his lips.

“It was just some kissing-“

“Just some kissing?” You scoff with your voice raised.

“Just listen to me. Damnit Y/n! You’re driving me up the fucking wall here!” He yells. You can hear his hands slam against a table and him gasp with a sob. You frown severely, and inhale loudly before responding in a low voice.

“Why do you deserve to be listened to anymore?” His side of the line falls silent until you hear a long, quaking inhale and exhale of a sob. It feels good to know he’s crying. Like you’re getting some twisted revenge. You want to spit more, to stab at him a little more, but you stay silent. You just don’t have any more words to say.

“I know… I’ve known it was wrong…” He laments with a shaken breath before continuing, “What was I supposed to do? What the fuck was I supposed to tell you?”

“You shouldn’t have been shitty enough to do it in the first place.” Falls from your lips in a hiss with your eyes narrowed and blurred. Staring hard at the wall across from you, “And at the very least you shouldn’t have let it go on so long…”

“I didn’t — don’t — I don’t want to lose you Y/n.” There’s a whine carrying on his raspy and quiet voice. “No one I’ve ever been with has made me feel like you do. I feel like I’m on top of the world — like I can do anything — when I’m with you. I can’t lose that. Not you.”

“Do you regret it?” You wonder with a blank expression and heavy heart.

“I do.” There’s no hesitation in the way he rasps that back to you. “I regret it. I regret every second of it.” Those are the words you wanted to hear most. You can almost feel your ire quiet down, and your hand begins to play with the edge of your sheets… Even if he regrets it, even if you could forgive him, and he loves you like the sky does the earth, that question will linger behind you. You both will be standing at a cliff for the rest of the relationship, and while he admires the view, you’ll be asking yourself, “Is he going to push me?”

“Will you forgive me?” The urgency in his voice is all but dried out. There’s a confidence that has wiggled its way back into his baritone voice, kind of like he’s telling himself he’s won.

“No.” You curtly say. “I’ll come drop your things off tonight.” He protests you, but you’ve already pulled your phone from your ear, and you hang up. He’s called all of these times to explain. To tell you why he did it, to save himself the trouble of feeling bad, to throw his share of the pain behind him… He’s an asshole. You stare at your hands clenching your phone with a blank expression.

But you like him so much anyways…

A quiet rapping at your door draws your head up to the slightly ajar door. Todoroki sheepishly smiles at you and waves quietly.

“Can I come in?” He asks while motioning at the door.

“Yeah.” You don’t attempt a smile. He shuffles into your room and plops heavily on the bed next to you; you shuffle away from him a little and draw your hands into your lap. His hair is slightly disheveled with sleep, but his eyes are clear while they look at you. You avoid his gaze the best you can.

“I’m proud of you.” His lips lift slightly. For some reason, hearing those words coming from him makes you want to cry even more than knowing that you’re never going to have Bakugo in your life again. “I’m sorry you have to go through this…” His hand rests atop yours, but you draw your hand back quickly. You can see his shock flicker across his face with raised brows and a slightly parted mouth. He examines you with his mouth drawn into a thin line. He removes himself away from you, and for some reason you feel a little worse. “Why are you pulling away now?” He asks in a strained voice, turning his eyes toward your covered window. You don’t make an answer, and instead turn your head away. “Because I like you?” He says it so casually. Your eyes shut and your fists take up handfuls of your pajama pants. “Because you don’t want to hurt me?” Again, you keep quiet. If you say anything you’ll just confirm it with how your voice will crack and tremble.

“Y/n, I will always be here for you.” He firmly states. “It doesn’t matter why, but if you’re sad I want to be right here next to you. Let me be here for you.” He moves to kneel in front of you and takes up your hand, not allowing you to pull them back this time. “I can’t leave you alone knowing you’re hurting like this. Please… Just let me hear everything. No strings attached.” You stare down into his mismatched eyes with furrowed brows and a watery gaze.

“Ok.” You push out with a falling head. He brushes your hair gently from your eye, and you notice the small tremble in his slender fingers.

“Do you want some help packing his things?” Your shoulders slump forward as a sob falls from you. You slap your hand over your quivering mouth; you don’t want to burden Todoroki any more than you already have… But he makes it so easy. He wraps his arm around you and gently guides your head to his chest.

“I’d really appreciate it.” You whisper after your sobbing subsides. “Can you… Come with me to take it to him tonight?”

“Yeah.” He softly says with a gentle nod of his head.

All of Katsuki's things can fit into two boxes. He didn’t leave much behind at your apartment; a shirt here and a pen there, and his favorite book he was lending to you to read… You haven’t finished it yet. Gently, you remove all the pictures displayed throughout your apartment with quaking hands and neatly place them all in a single envelope. You’ll return these little memories to him, let him deal with the consequences of his own actions. Todoroki speaks softly to you whenever he looks to you with a question of what’s yours and what is that assholes. Sometimes you could see the fire burning behind Todoroki’s mismatched eyes, and you think — if he could — Todoroki would set all of Katsuki's things on fire and watch them burn with a cute smile on his lips. It’s stupid but gathering Katsuki's things takes you all day — you’d cry over a chip in a bowl that the blonde put there, and Todoroki would hold you — but you’re finally done now that the moon has replaced the sun in the sky.

Gently, you lay the envelope of pictures on Katsuki’s neatly folded shirts and close the box. You return the empty gold frame back to its spot on the wall and sigh; it feels plain in here now.

“That’s it?” Todoroki questions.

“That’s it.”

“Then…” He seems hesitant in bringing it up, “You ready to take it back?” You stare at Todoroki, hoping that maybe you could steal a little strength from him, before you nod.

“Yeah…” You hoist a box into your arms and look back to the empty frame, “I just want to be done with it now.” Your friend guides you out of your apartment with gentle hands. He begins rambling about how he can’t stand the fact that you only have one lock on your front door; what if someone breaks in? Katsuki complained about the same thing when he first came to your apartment. You smile at him from habit — trying to convince him you’re listening — but your mind is locked on to the unsettling and empty sight of a living room with just a couch, tv, coffee table, and an empty picture frame on the wall.

After a silent car ride, you ask Todoroki to stay in the car. You don’t want a fight to break out between these two knowing Bakugo’s explosive temper and Todoroki’s cool countenance. After you ring the doorbell, not even twenty seconds afterward, Bakugo is standing before you. You blink as the stare up into his irritated cerulean eyes. A long breath leaves him as he takes in your own messy appearance. Slowly, he realizes the two boxes sitting at your feet and his shoulders fall.

“You really,” His hand pinches the bridge of his nose before he rubs his eyes, “won’t forgive me?”

“If you’re going to say anything, Bakugo, apologize.” You coldly warn. His eyes dart to your own with a heavy furrow in his brow and a frown on his parted lips.

“Well I guess that’s that huh?” His wet eyes narrow — you never thought you’d see tears rolling down his cheeks like you are now — and his mouth twists into a thin line. “It’s this easy for you?” You blink at him, and glance back to Todoroki, who’s watching the both of you like a hawk from his car. If looks could kill, Bakugo would be dead on the ground in front of you because of the sizzling glare in Shouto’s eye.

“You’re just gonna run off into that piece of shits arms?” He takes a step toward you, and you hear Todoroki’s car door open. His foot steps are heavy as he nears you, “You’re not even going to try to save what we have?”

“Back the hell off.” Todoroki’s loud voice warns. You don’t want Todoroki to reach Bakugo.

“This isn’t my fault, Bakugo. This is on you. I could’ve loved you to my last breath, but you — you — did this.” You turn around and begin walking away. “Live with it.” You call over your shoulder as you stop Todoroki with your hands on his firm chest and a soft shake of your head.

“Let’s go.” You whisper to him, entire body trembling.

. . .

That picture frame has stayed empty until now. Now, with snow piled up in the ground and frost blurring the glass of your patio door, you gently place a new picture with a soft smile dallying on your lips. This one is of your graduation. With an accomplished grin on your lips below warm eyes, you hold your bachelors degree proudly out towards the camera, and in the background is Todoroki celebrating with his hands in the air and head thrown back sporting an open mouth grin. Thinking back to the smile that never left his lips, it almost feels like Todoroki was more proud than you were that day.

You hang it gingerly and step back with a sigh, but accidentally bump into the figure looking on behind you. You turn your head up to look into Todoroki’s mismatched eyes with a sheepish and apologetic smile.

“Why did you have to choose that one?” He questions, throwing his hands into his pocket. “I got several pictures of us that are actually good. Like this one…” He holds his phone screen out, proudly flaunting his lock screen picture. A cliché picture of you encased in his arms and smiling sweetly at the camera. Since your break up with your ex, Todoroki has been supporting you in every way possible. He studies with you before tests, helps you cook dinner, and even cleans up with you afterward. You feel like his entire focus every time you are both in the same room.

“I like this one…” You giggle to him, pointing at the goofy picture. “For some reason…” Maybe it’s because your heart buzzes when you see it, that you feel like you can take on the world if you have Todoroki celebrating behind you like that. Maybe it’s because you can still hear him proudly shouting that you are the best — the kindest, smartest, strongest, most beautiful, his spew of compliments were endless that day —thing to walk this earth, and you can feel his arms wrapping around you and lifting you through the air with a firm hug. It’s because this picture is the exact moment you made up your mind; you’d finally let Todoroki a little bit closer to you.

“Todoroki… Would you like…” Your voice dies off as you bring your eyes to meet his clear ones already staring down into your soul. “To go to dinner?” He smiles at you. Your resolve begins to dry out as nerves eat away at your stomach; these are some ruthless butterflies…

“Yeah, I’m starved!” He looks to his phone to start searching up restaurants near your apartment. “Where do you wanna go? Do you want pasta? I’ve kind of been feeling—“

“Anything sounds good…” You mutter while shuffling your feet and tangling your fingers in front of yourself, “As long as you go as my boyfriend..” In a matter of seconds the collected and graceful man before you has dissolved into a wide stare, an open mouth, and a hot blush eating up his cute cheeks all the way to the top of his ear.

“Your boyfriend!” He exclaims, almost asking for confirmation that those words really just came out of your mouth. “We already talked about this! I said that I don’t expect anything from you I just want to be able to stay by your side and support you. You don’t have to force yourself!”

“I’m not!” You immediately say back. Jesus you’re finally asking him out and he doesn’t believe you! You bite the inside of your cheek and give him a flat stare, if only he weren’t so precious. He’s firmly kept himself in check to keep you comfortable, always considered you, and never made you feel the pressure of his feelings. He’s a precious and perfect man. “I want to!”

A smile erupts onto his lips before he turns away with a chuckle and slightly shielding his expression from you. He mumbles something to himself, you’re not quite sure what. You think it’s about you, as you clearly hear your name fumble off his lips that have yet to stop smiling, but you don’t get a chance to consider the rest of his words. You inhale deeply, shocked to be pressed so tightly to Todorokis chest.

“Sorry.” He breathes as he tightens his hold around you and nuzzles his nose into the corner of your shoulder and neck. “I’ve been wanting to hear that for so long…” His words are soft and put a smile on your lips.

“Sorry for making you wait so long…” He chuckles and shakes his head.

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” He pulls away and holds you at arms length. “Since it’s our first date,” his cheeks brighten at his words, “Let’s go to the noodle place down the street.”

“Where we first met?” It was a fateful night of studying with Midoriya, where he had invited Todoroki, that you first met eyes with him. For some reason, you remember it clearly.

“Yeah… We haven’t been there since.”

“Okay.”

You wonder, as you walk out of your apartment hand in hand, — Todoroki a giggling and excited mess — if the same thing could happen this time around. Could you be betrayed like last time, and have to suffer through even worse loosing Todoroki? Your hand loosens around his while your heart tightens in your chest. You exhale shakily, trying to shake those darn thoughts from your head. His warm hand tightens on yours; you instinctively allow your grip on his hand to become firm before you look up to him with a questioning gaze.

“I will treasure you, Y/n.” He smiles and caresses your cheek, “I promise.”

You smile. In the time that you’ve know Todoroki, he’s never, ever, broken a promise. You shake your head with a blush and a giddy laugh.

Todoroki will never do that to you.

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sollucets · 3 years ago

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bring me a dream

Elliott and his best friend have a long-awaited conversation in their dreams, set to semi-appropriate background music.

pre-relationship elliott/sunshine magic reveal fic. t, 4400 words

The smile grows just a little wider when they see that it’s Elliott, holding an honest-to-God boombox over his head with a shit-eating grin on his face. Around his feet in the grass are little clusters of daisies, waving very slightly in the wind.

“Took you long enough,” Elliott calls up to them. “The song’s almost over!”

They take a moment to stare down at him and catalog the way he looks, smug and happy and bathed in dream-sunshine. Maybe if they look long enough, they’ll remember this when they wake up. Then, once they’re done being sappy, they flip him off. “I was asleep!” they yell back down.

read it on ao3, or full fic under the cut. 💜

Echoes of their dream are still filtering through the edges of their consciousness when they wake. Trying to recall it is like trying to grab smoke, and the harder they attempt to focus the more their brain rejects it. All they can remember is a faint, distant feeling of floating.

It sounds like their downstairs neighbor might be playing music. It’s hardly a first, but at this hour? Grumbling incoherently, they shift around under their warm layers of blankets. They have class at nine today, so if their alarm hasn’t gone off yet, it should still be before eight; they’ll have to get on the bus that leaves at 8:15 if they want to get there on time.

Squinting an eye open, they check their alarm clock. After a moment, they open both eyes and check again. Checking a third time doesn’t change what they’re obviously looking at, but it also doesn’t make it make any more sense.

The clock’s face reads, in bright red letters, GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE.

Fumbling around on their nightstand, they snatch up their phone. The lock screen flicks on at their command easily enough, the background picture still that familiar landscape from the hiking trip with Elliott, but the time is, inexplicably, 00:00. A stray thought is nagging at them in the back of their mind, a little voice that says they recognize what’s going on.

Another clue comes when they get up for real. Being a full-time student doesn’t lend itself to good posture, and they can’t remember the last time they woke up without their back cracking at least once. This time it’s as smooth as butter.

Their room looks normal enough, at least. Same walls, same band posters, same general organized clutter. Books across most surfaces, desk completely covered in works-in-progress. Same big fluffy rug to cover how cold the floor gets in the morning.

In bare feet, pajama pants, and a loose tank top, they pad across the room towards the currently covered window. As they get closer, the music gets louder, loud enough to recognize it.

♫ Sweet dreams are made of these ♫

Frowning, they push the curtain aside from the window and are abruptly blasted with sunlight so bright they have to squint against its force. The view outside their apartment, normally a charmingly gray view of the street that passes the complex, has become a sprawling field of green with little multicolored wildflowers dotting the expanse as far away as they can see. There are no other buildings, no trees, nothing that breaks the horizon, just a blue sky and the endless waving grass.

It’s peaceful. They must be dreaming.

They lean against the windowsill, staring out at the gently-moving stalks of grass, and think vaguely that they’ve heard of this before. A “false awakening”. They’d been so sure they’d woken up.

In their hand, their phone buzzes, and they raise it to check. LOOK DOWN, the screen says. It’s a text notification with no name on it, which strikes them as another weird thing. But if this is a dream, isn’t it weird that they’re reading at all?

They’re very lucid, actually. So often they feel trapped in dreams, tumbling along a tide they have no real control over, images washing past them without any real input of their own past the whirlpool of their feelings. It’s been better, recently. The nightmares of splintered glass and shrieking sirens have been gone for years save occasional and brief incidents, and the river rushes through their mind only sometimes these days. (And something has felt — different about those dreams, recently.) Standing here in their own apartment in comfy clothes, staring out at a beautiful view and serenaded by the distant sounds of Eurythmics, they feel like they could choose not to look.

After a moment, their phone buzzes again. LOOK DOWN, PLEASE?

Letting out a startled little laugh, they shove their phone into their tank top strap and push the window open enough to stick their torso out. In the waking world it’s January, and even though they don’t live in a cold part of the country, they’re not sure they’d go for this under normal circumstances. But the breeze that rushes in when they do is perfectly warm on their skin, and they find themself smiling as they look directly under their window.

“Took you long enough,” Elliott calls up to them. “The song’s almost over!”

“And you still are,” he says, tone losing a little of its levity. He shifts the boombox down to rest on one shoulder and looks up at them; when his eyes catch the light they’re a shining, unnatural violet. “Will you come outside?”

It’s a dream, but they could choose not to. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“See you soon,” he answers, brightening. The song switches as they pull away from the window, not bothering to close it, and the faint sounds of “Soak up the Sun” follow them out the door of their apartment. The stairs look depressingly normal, cold gray concrete and red handrail. Even that little dent in the wall near the second floor landing is there, from where they’d whacked the arm of their couch against it while trying to turn up the stairs. Elliott had been holding up the other side at the time.

It feels weird to see him here, they think as they come closer to the exit. Most people they know have featured in their sleep once or twice; that’s just how it goes. Faces in a crowd, characters in a story. But they’ve known Elliott for years now, and he’s their closest friend, and this is the very first time they’ve ever dreamed about him.

Maybe that’s for the best. They do enough imagining as it is.

When they open the door of their apartment complex, they’re met not with the familiar street but with the same surreal sight as before. Long grass waves in a gentle, warm, breeze as little wispy clouds inch across a bright blue sky. It reminds them, achingly, of childhood, of a long trip across the country where they’d stopped wherever they wanted for pictures. They’d laid down in the grass until it was taller than them and stared up at the endless blue expanse.

The music gets louder again, and Elliott comes around the side of the building. Taking a few steps away from the door, they ignore him for a moment to look back at the exit. It’s odd to see a perfect copy of their low-rent apartment complex transplanted into a place that could be a painting. The brick of the outside looks almost hyperreal.

“Hey, sunshine,” Elliott says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, dreamboat,” they tell him, mouth quirked up at the side. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“If only you knew,” he answers nonsensically, grinning. When Elliott smiles for real, big and unrestrained, his nose scrunches up like he’s about to sneeze. They’ve wondered more than once what it would be like to touch that little wrinkle, to watch from close enough to kiss as his freckles distort across his cheeks. “But you will. Wanna come sit? I’ve got a spot set up.”

They tilt their head at him. “You do? You’re awfully prepared.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, a little more soberly, “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this.” He picks up his boombox from where he’d set it down in the grass. It’s a genuine-looking article, big and clunky and gray with black speakers and a boxy handle, and it’s still playing, albeit at a slightly more reasonable volume for conversation.

“To think about what?” they ask, following him out into the field. For all that they’re walking barefoot in long grass, it’s not uncomfortable — no rocks, no itching, no sharp textures, no bugs even. The only sounds are the rustle of the wind and Elliott’s music switching to “Here Comes the Sun”.

“About this place,” he says, “among other things. Do you like it?”

They probably shouldn’t have expected a straight answer from a dream version of him, but when everything else seems just on the edge of reality, when their thoughts are the same in their head as if they were awake, that feels… strange. “It’s beautiful,” they say slowly. “Are you implying you made it?”

“I did make it.” Dream logic, they think, pushing the confusion away for now. Elliott’s steps slow as they approach an old-fashioned picnic blanket laid out in the grass. Surrounding the area on all sides is a ring of bright blue cornflowers. Setting down the boombox, he sits next to it, looking up at them. His eyes are still that too-bright impossible purple, so different from his usual warm brown.

They follow him down to sit on the blanket, close enough to hold hands if they wanted to. And they do want to, and it’s a dream, so they reach out and lace their fingers together. He feels real. Elliott always has cold hands. He jokes about it often, sneak attacks them with freezing fingers during the rainy season, constantly has his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. Even here, in the warmth of a dreamed sun, his skin is cold against theirs.

Looking down at their joined hands, Elliott makes a face they can’t read, half a smile and half something else. “You’re acting different,” he says in a wondering tone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” they ask, intentionally too-sweet to cover for the sudden guilty knowledge of exactly what he’s talking about, how they’d needed to be asleep to be the one to reach out first.

“Nothing, nothing,” he deflects. He doesn’t let go. The music has changed again, and Elliott glances over at the boombox. It looks like he’s thinking about something, and in a place like this, they’re content enough to let him. “Sunshine?” he asks, after a moment.

“Yeah?”

He swallows before he starts, a compulsive movement of his throat that draws their gaze even as his words send anxiety shivering up their back. “I have to tell you something. And I know you think we’re in a dream and what you do doesn’t matter, but I mean it seriously, and I want you to… listen, seriously. Please.” As he speaks, he’s looking directly at them, those bright violet eyes boring into their own. Elliott is rarely completely serious, even when talking about the worst things in life. He makes a joke, he plays it off. They’ve seen him sincere before — eyes soft as he held them while they cried, intent on their face across a library table as they talked about nightmares — but they wonder how many people can actually say that.

“I will,” they say slowly, because there’s no world, asleep or awake, where they’d deny something he asked them in that tone of voice. “I promise. But what do you mean? That I — think this is a dream? You even said I was asleep. How could I not be?”

He shakes his head, frowning a little. “Sorry. This is, you are. I meant that it does matter what we do, here. Haven’t you noticed? Doesn’t anything feel different? Realer? ”

Taking a moment, they honestly consider it. They think about the dent in the apartment stairwell, the way Elliott’s fingers are slowly warming against theirs. They think about how easy it is to stop and think. Their choice to answer or not. “It does feel different,” they admit. “I’ve never dreamed about you before, you know?”

“I know,” Elliott says. His expression is carefully neutral. “You can’t, unless I want you to, and I didn’t want to intrude. I only did it tonight because I needed to tell you and I knew you’d need proof.” He takes a long breath, then murmurs, “God, this doesn’t get easier. You’d think it would.”

“Elliott,” they say slowly. Whatever it is that he’s dancing around is starting to take something of a shape in their mind, but its form is so alien that they don’t even want to venture a guess. He knows their darkest secrets; surely they can take some of his. They want to take some of his. “Please just tell me.”

He looks them in the eye, his solemn expression lit by the sunlight, and says, “Magic is real, and I can use it to create and control dreams. I’m using it right now, to be here with you.”

Their first instinct, despite everything he’d just said, is to blow it off as a joke on sheer impossibility. But he’s still looking at them with those violet eyes, still holding their hand, still just sitting there. Waiting for a response.

Elliott has played any number of dumb pranks before, sure, but never like this. Never with that look like he’s hanging on their every word, like their answer might — what? Break him?

They stare at him. They have spent a not-insignificant amount of time staring at Elliott, both since they woke up and in general. They know him, and this is him. That means that they could probably conjure up an accurate version of him in dreams, yes, but there are details they don’t know if they’d think to imagine. Those eyes, that intent, sincere expression. His hand is squeezing theirs just a little too hard, warmed almost to the point of discomfort.

He’s probably expecting flat-out rejection. Maybe confusion, maybe shock. Any number of responses that make sense, when presented with such a patently ridiculous statement. That’s what they’d expect, if they were him. That’s what they should answer with. “Okay,” they say, slowly. “I believe you.”

His whole face goes slack, eyes widening and mouth making this little surprised ‘o’. They can actually feel their heart melting in their chest. “You — do?”

“If this is really just a regular dream,” they tell him, “then why should it matter? And if not… then I’d regret it if I didn’t hear you out. So let’s go forward on believing. Show me.” When he just keeps looking at them in stunned silence, they add, with a little grin, “Do a magic trick.”

Elliott looks a little while longer, his fingers moving a little against theirs, restless, then smiles a wide, slow-burn smile that spreads across his face like the sunrise. (For all that it’s their nickname, sometimes they want to throw it back in his face.) “Okay,” he says, his voice curving around the words like he can’t keep his smile out of it. “Where do you want to go?”

They blink at him.

“Pick somewhere,” he elaborates. “Just — anywhere. Somewhere you love. Somewhere you’ve never been. Somewhere you hate, even, if you want, although I don’t know why you’d do that. Except maybe spite. Pick somewhere, and I’ll take us there.”

Usually they’d come up with a good response to that spite comment, some kind of zinger, but their brain is busy cycling through every place they’ve ever been. This one is already lovely. They almost don’t want to lose the wildflowers. But he’s so excited , so earnest. He’s going to do magic . “The redwoods,” they say slowly. “I showed you pictures, remember?”

“Perfect,” he says. For a long moment, Elliott closes his eyes, brow furrowing. The boombox plays in the background, a pop song they recognize, and they hold back their questions with a force of will that shocks even them. It’s a long, long moment until he opens his eyes again, and then he looks right at them and that violet in his eyes glows so bright it nearly hurts and the world shifts sideways around them in a rush of noise.

The field almost seems to melt, shrinking into the ground like someone smearing paint. Bright greens go darker, sparkling under a layer of dew and ferns on ferns on ferns. Trees shoot out of the ground, their highest branches stretching towards the heavens. The sounds of the boombox echo through a suddenly-cavernous expanse, bouncing off of the trees. They sit together on the picnic blanket with Elliott in the new shade, watching mist waft off of the redwoods where the sunlight hits their trunks, and marvel.

“How did I do?” he asks. There’s something just barely restrained in his tone. “I’ve never been, but you had all those pictures on your phone, and this is your head, so it’s a little easier to make something you remember.”

Shifting off of the picnic blanket, they reach out and run their hand over a green fern. The texture is right under their hand, ridged and a little bit waxy and slightly wet. They rub their fingers together, feeling the way the water disperses under their touch.

The movement detaches them from Elliott, and right after they hear him ask, nervous, “Sunshine?”

They whirl to look at him. “Do it again. Put it back.”

He blinks, but obliges, those eyes flaring again. They watch it closer this time, look at the way the trees almost disintegrate, the way some things, like the green of the ferns, seem to almost slip into the grass. Reused assets, maybe. The field waves around them again in moments. The music continues.

“Go to — go to somewhere I’ve never been.” Something I couldn’t imagine , they don’t say.

Elliott nods, thinks for a second, then snaps his fingers. It’s like — they can’t possibly describe how it is. Like being inside a PowerPoint transition, maybe, they think, resisting the urge to laugh. They’re sure it will come out breathless and weird.

Every trace of green vanishes, shifted to whites and blacks and browns. They’re still sitting on the picnic blanket, but they’re now on— a stage, they realize. The floor is wooden under the blanket, and the lights shine harsh into their eyes. Past that, in the shadows of the rest of the room, rows of seats stretch away into the darkness.

“Where are we?” they ask.

“This is my old college,” Elliott says. “I told you about it, but… not everything. The school I went to was for, uh, people like me. Empowered people. Dreamwalkers specifically, even.”

Dreamwalkers. They think, again just barely avoiding a hysterical laugh, that they’re not doing much walking.

They glance around again. Elliott’s told them before about doing theater, that he’d been a tech (which honestly explains a lot about his personality) but learning this place is magical feels like it should change the way it looks. It doesn’t — it still looks like a stage, if a nice quality one. He’s looking around the stage like he’s meeting an old friend, fond and nostalgic, and they follow his gaze. Glancing to the wings, they catch sight of a matching pair of massive black curtains, the fabric so dark they can’t see the folds.

Elliott points to a brightly-colored piece of tape on the wood of the stage with a fond look. “This is a position marker for rehearsals,” he says. “When the illusion’s up, you can’t see it, so the point is actually the texture.”

“The illusion?” they ask, head suddenly spinning. “Is this — is this what the room really looks like?

“Yes,” he says, smiling gently. “Well, to be fair, it looks how I remember it, which could’ve changed since graduation. But this is what it usually looks like. That wall up there behind us—” he points up to another massive, draped black curtain, hanging over the entire back of the room— “gets used as the basis of illusion backdrops. The full thing covers the entire room, even the audience.” Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “It’s more impressive when it’s in use, but I’m working on short notice here.”

A magical theater production? Where the stage can be enveloped in an illusion? There are colleges just for magic people? He must have had classmates. A whole school administration. A whole world they’d known nothing about.

“Back to my apartment,” they say quietly. “Please.”

He shoots them a worried look, all that nostalgic fondness dropping off his face in a second, and snaps his fingers.

The world briefly flickers around them, little spots of darkness crawling over the scene, and a moment later they’re sitting on their bed again. The picnic blanket is gone, but the boombox remains, playing faintly outside like it had been before. Elliott is perched on their desk chair across the room, looking concerned.

“If there are illusions, are there other kinds of magic? Can you do them?” they ask. The familiar surroundings settle them some, allow them to try to prioritize.

“There are,” he confirms. “All kinds. I can do some, and I swear I’ll show you in the waking world, but I’m a little — overspecialized. Dreams are what I do,” he says slowly. “I can create them, control them, and walk in the dreams of others. I can protect people’s dreams against outside interference from people like me. That’s my real job, actually,” he adds.

They’d thought he was an architect. They’ve seen him draw building plans, worked side-by-side with him in the library as they studied for finals and he agonized over his modeling program. Was that… no. It wouldn’t be a lie. Right?

Their silence must last a little too long. “I know it’s… a lot,” Elliott says, slowly, gauging their reaction. “I swear I’ll explain everything as best as I can. I had to learn, too, and I’ve explained before. There’s a whole new world to get used to.”

“You’ve explained before?” they ask, an easy question among all the others, and then cut him off before he can respond. “Your mom? Your family?” They think of the way he always dances around the topic of his brother, and they — wonder. They think of how nervous he is.

“Yeah,” Elliott says wryly. “Had to fill out separate paperwork for each instance, too. Not my idea of a good time. But yes, my family knows. When you wake up, after we— if we hang out, I can ask my mom to talk to you. I think it could help.”

God. They were supposed to meet up, weren’t they? After classes today. They’re not going to process a single word of their lectures. “I’ll do it myself,” they say, nearly on autopilot. “Your mom loves me, we text all the time.”

“I know. She’d probably trade me for you if she could,” Elliott says with a snort, but he looks relieved. All they can think, though, is that If she knows, if he’s encouraging them to ask her, then it has to be real.

And if it’s real, then so much else is, too.

“I didn’t really have the chance to be… intentional about telling my family,” Elliott says. He’s looking down at the floor, hands in his pockets. Nervous. “That was out of my hands. But I had a long time to think with you. I did it this way because I wanted to make sure you had proof. It’s hard to demonstrate Dreamwalking in the waking world, and I wanted to make sure you had a good reason to believe me. I want you to know. I have wanted you to know. I swear I’ll tell you everything I can.”

They think of Elliott, somehow constructing the dream they’d meet in. What does that look like? What does magic look like? They want to see how he does it, want to see what goes on behind those violet eyes. They think of him making a tracklist for that boombox. Dramatic. Maybe something like this deserves a little drama, though.

Standing, they cross the room to their own desk chair. In front of him, they put their hands on their hips and wait until he looks up again. “Elliott,” they say, as clearly as they can. “You fucking better. Because I’m not going to stop asking.”

That smile spreads across his face again, nose all scrunched. “I’d expect nothing less.”

The room flickers around them again, little black spots flashing across their vision. They blink, alarmed. “Are you doing that?”

“No, sunshine,” he says, something a little wistful in his voice. “The dream is ending.”

Outside, the boombox plays an 80’s hit with an appropriate name, and Elliott stands, his sudden movement putting them close enough that they could — reach out. They’d reached out before, to take his hand. But that had been a dream. It’s still a dream. “Will I remember this?” they ask, quiet in the now-tiny space between them.

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” they say, then take a step forward to wrap their arms around him, pushing their face into his shoulder. He feels solid against them, an anchor in the fading dream. He brought them here, looked them in the eye and told them what they are increasingly certain is his truth. He trusted them with it. As scary as it is for them, it had to have been terrifying for him.

It takes a moment before Elliott reciprocates, but when he does, he melts into them with a little happy sigh, locking his hands together at the small of their back. They want to write that sound permanently onto their brain, to save it and replay it like a favorite song. His cheek presses against their hair and his arms tighten around them and they catch themself thinking that it might be a sweet dream after all.

“Text me when I wake up,” they say instead of anything else, muffled by the soft fabric of his hoodie.

“I will.” After a moment, he adds, uncharacteristically hesitant, “You’ll still come? After class?”

“Can’t get rid of me now,” they tell him. They’re sure they sound too soft, sure the weight of their heart is dragging the words out curved and loving instead of joking, but it’s alright. It’s just Elliott. The view of the room past his shoulder is starting to melt away for real now, features disappearing one by one into a dark mass of static.

“Like I’d want to,” he murmurs into their hair, just as soft, and they lean into him and let the dream fade out. Another world awaits.

___________________

1 unread notification, 7:45 a.m.

Eli 💜

GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE

#redacted asmr #redacted elliott #redacted sunshine #my fic tag #yes i AM posting in a timezone that's normal for absolutely no one again #i'm sorry for what i am #i will queue some normal time reblogs i have figured that out now #i like this fic. like even right now in the terrible post-posting anxiety phase #isn't that wild?#so i hope you will too

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marvels-writings · 4 years ago

Text

World Turned Upside Down

Prequel: Used To

Sequel: My Forever

Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) Masterlist

Yelena Belova Masterlist

Requested by @stephanieromanoff and (Kind of) @venablemayfairgoode: Hi!! I absolutely LOVED ‘Used To’, and I definitely felt the reader’s pain. Could you write a part 2? Like, maybe while going away from everything, reader finds Yelena and they start a relationship?

Word Count: 7.4k (long but a masterpiece of angst and fluff)

A/N: Two whole weeks of effort, literally, so worth it. I hope you feel the same after reading it.

Edit: The post seems to have deleted itself so I’m reposting it

Golden light filtered through the windows, illuminating the quiet of your apartment; the light fell on your eyes. You opened them slowly and looked around the room. The windows showed the rest of the world slowly waking up, the cars whirring by as other people's lives took their normal turn.

Breathing in slowly, you turned around slowly. The sheets shuffled underneath you, tangling your legs further into them. Turning to face the blonde in front of you, a small smile graced your lips. Fingertips grazed over her cheek as you moved the hair away from her face.

Shuffling closer to your sleeping girlfriend, your smile broadened as you noticed she was still sleeping. It wasn’t frequent that you woke up before Yelena, but you loved every second of it. Your fingers ran across her relaxed features before settling around her cheek.

Your fingertips trailed down her cheekbone onto her shoulder, till your hand was ghosting across her chest. Her heartbeat sounded just underneath your fingers, bringing a sense of comfort to you. Toying with a strand of hair on her neck, her eyes began to flutter open slowly.

Taking in a breath, her eyes opened to see you watching her. Your eyes held open affection, a gaze she found herself seeking comfort in. Hazel eyes scanned your features, she shifted to see you better. Legs tangled with yours over the sheets, the touch bringing you back to her.

“Morning,” Yelena whispered, her voice raspy from waking up. You hummed in response, fingers gently toying with her hair as a comfortable silence blanketed it you.

Soft breaths resounding in your ears as thoughts continued to run through your mind. Thoughts of a certain redhead. She had called you, more than once, more than you had expected. Even after five years, you found it hard not to pick up.

The voicemails remained on your phone. Her voice asking you to come back, telling you that it had been long enough. You could barely stop thinking about it.

Yelena saw that something was bothering you, but she never asked. She knew you would tell her once you thought it over. Her trust made you comfortable enough to think about going back. But the thought of seeing her again made you stop.

“Breakfast?” Yelena asked, a small smile as your fingertips ran across her skin. Taking your fingers away from her hair, you gave her a small nod. Mirroring her smile, you moved to get off the bed.

Untangling your legs from the sheets, you smoothened out your clothes. Though, it hardly made a difference. The clothes were all Yelena’s, not that she minded. Everything she wore was yours, even the oversized sweatpants.

Moving your hair away from your face, you followed the blonde into the kitchen. You knew she didn’t eat much for breakfast, but she insisted on trying to make you something anyway. Taking a seat on the kitchen island, you fidgeted with your hands as your girlfriend started on breakfast.

Bread in the toaster, two cups of coffee brewing, eggs cooking on the stove. Yelena put the eggs on a plate and sighed as she turned around. You were still staring at your hands, refusing to disturb the silence surrounding both of you.

“Something on your mind?” Yelena asked softly, setting your plate in front of you along with your coffee.

You didn’t seem to hear her, snapping out of your daze as you looked up to face her. A smile formed on your face before you noticed she had asked you something.

“Sorry?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

Yelena chuckled, picking up her toast and setting it down next to her coffee. Taking a seat in front of you, she set one hand down in the middle of the table. Her foot bumped yours gently as she sat down.

“I asked what was going on in this beautiful head of yours.” She asked, her hand gesturing to your head.

You smiled at the compliment, the expression disappearing as you looked down at your food. Your fork prodded the eggs, playing with them. Another silence settled around the room as she waited for you to speak. You set down your fork and let out a sigh, gaining the courage to finally tell her.

“She called me.” You stated, your voice strained and tight as the words left your lips.

The blonde frowned for a moment until she understood who you were referring to. To you, her name would never be mentioned, when you talked about it, it was always ‘she’ and ‘her’. Her hand gently came onto yours, thumb running across your knuckles to show she was listening.

“She wants me to come back,” You continued, breath shaky as you spoke. “she says it’s been long enough.”

Yelena nodded at your words, letting them sink in. A squeeze to your hand brought your eyes up to hers. You looked uncertain of what you wanted to do next. The blonde tilted her head to the side as she resumed running her thumb over the skin of your hand.

“Do you want to go back?” She asked gently.

Her question was what you’d been asking yourself since the first time she called you. Were you ready to see her again? Should you let your absence remain for longer? A part of you wanted to go back to where you used to call home.

But this was home, this huge apartment you’d bought with Yelena.

“I’m not sure,” You admitted, sighing. “do you want to go there?”

The blonde considered it, licking her lips slowly. She seemed to weigh her words carefully, to tell you what she wanted, and if she wanted to see her sister again.

“I would like to see Natalia again,” Yelena confessed, watching your expression falter. “, but only if you’re okay with it.”

“You know I won’t keep you from your family.” You found yourself answering before you could process her words.

Natalia, you’d never called her by her true name, scared it was too close to her. it was the first time you’d heard her name in years. The last time being when you told Yelena about what happened between her and you.

“Then why should she keep you from yours?” Yelena asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You nodded, considering her words. A light chuckle left you as you recalled the last words you’d said to her.

‘If the entire world turns upside down’. It was so distant now, the realization, the arguing, the day you left.

“I did tell her I’d come back if the world turned upside down.” You recalled, nostalgia in your words as you turned to look out the window. Breathing in slowly, you took a moment to analyze how different your life was now.

It’s been almost four years you’ve been together, each day you spent with her you seemed to forget your life without her. Funny, it was a coincidence she showed up in your life just a month after you left Natasha. Going on a trip around Europe was an impulse decision, one of your best ones at that.

It was what you’d wanted to do with Natasha, but you ended up by yourself. Until you met Yelena at a bar. The memories of how you began seemed to fade the longer you were with her. But everything in between felt like yesterday.

Yelena had been the one to take things slow. It matched you better than you had expected. It was perfect. You needed to take things slow after everything that happened. The blonde didn’t want to rush into anything.

Sometimes, you thought maybe you were with Yelena only because she reminded you of someone you used to love. It was hardly that, being with Natasha had been something you wanted to do. With Yelena, you were surprised your life hadn’t been this way all along.

A smile crossed your face as you remembered starting to trust her. It was slow, just starting with trusting her with your nightmares, even your fears if you were sure about it. She never pushed you, never held back a secret if she thought you’d want to know.

“In a way, it did.” You commented, making your decision to return.

Yelena watched you turn back to face her, your eyes meeting hers with certainty. Your decision was made, she could change it if she wanted to. But this could be good for you, maybe it would benefit both of you. After all, there were plans you had that needed a family watching you.

“You’re sure about going back?” She asked, just to make sure. You nodded your head, palm turning upwards to take her hand into yours. Skin brushed together as your fingers ran over her skin.

“Maybe not permanently,” You gave a half shrug. “but they are my family.”

Yelena smiled at you, her other hand slowly coming up to cup yours. Her fingers toyed with yours, letting the rings on your fingers clink together softly. Wedding bands had not come in their place, not yet anyway.

“So are you.” You smiled, lacing your fingers with hers. Her smile broadened at your words, eyes glancing down to where her ring met yours. She promised you forever when you weren’t sure you could find one.

————

Your phone buzzed lightly in your hand on the drive to the compound. After messaging the rest of the team about your surprise arrival, they hadn’t stopped messaging you. The first year was the only year they tried to keep in contact with you before giving up on you.

Wanda was the only one who never gave up on it. Every holiday, every birthday, she’d send you a text and try to call you. There were never any voicemails, but the texts were there, year after year. She didn’t know if you’d read them or not but still kept sending them.

Now, there were more messages than you could count.

The only ones you paid attention to were the ones from Tony. He told you that he could get you your room back. The one you had before you moved in with a certain redhead. No one had touched it.

Scrolling through the notifications, you noticed one text from Natasha thanking you. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Stark can give me my old room back,” You said, tucking your phone in your back pocket and turning towards Yelena. She nodded, looking outside the window as the compound started to come into view.

“The one I had before moving in with her.” You continued, to try to occupy the silence in the car. The taxi driver didn’t seem to care much about who he was driving or where. Though, you supposed he expected a large tip since you mentioned Tony Stark.

“Though I don’t know how long we’ll be staying.” You continued, licking your lips dryly. Your fingers reached to fidget with your engagement ring. Twisting the ring around your finger, you clenched your jaw and turned to look out the window.

The sound of the radio the only sound filling the taxi for a few moments. Fingers laced through yours, squeezing to bring your attention to her. Turning to face her, you gave her a half-hearted smile. Yelena gave you a reassuring grin before squeezing your fingers again.

“We’ll stay as long as you want.” She whispered, bringing your hand up to meet it to her lips softly. You smiled at the comforting feeling.

Chuckling, you remembered how Yelena hadn’t been one to show affection at the starting of your relationship. You had always been one to initiate any sort of physical contact. It was only after she told you how she wanted to make sure you were comfortable did it become commonplace.

“I love you.” You whispered, a smile turning up the corners of your lips. The blonde mirrored your smile as she turned around to face you. Hazel eyes radiated warmth as she squeezed your hand again.

“I love you too,” Yelena said.

With her, it didn’t feel like you were living a lie. You didn’t have to ask her if she meant it. To her, telling you that she loved you was a promise on its own.

Smiling to yourself as she squeezed your fingers the same way as you walked towards the entrance of the compound. You were about an hour earlier than you had promised to arrive. Hardly anyone was at the front.

You began to walk inside, taking in the sight of the compound. The smell of coffee wafted through the air, music probably picked by Stark created the atmosphere as you walked inside. It was like you’d never left.

Wanda sat on the couches, talking to Clint. A fond smile twisted the corners of your lips as you made eye contact with the witch. Her eyes seemed to widen almost three times their size as she caught sight of you. Jumping out of her seat, a large grin crossed her face.

“Y/N!” Wanda exclaimed, running forwards to you.

You stumbled backward with the force of her hug, hand slipping from Yelena’s. Laughing, you hugged her back tightly. Her hands pulled you closer to her, scared you might leave if she let go of you. You smiled as her grip tightened, burrowing your face into her neck.

Her hair still smelt of the almond oil she used, along with the coconut shampoo you’d suggested to her many years ago. Some things never really change.

Clint shouted that you’d returned. You paid little to no heed to his screaming, until you heard rapid footsteps approaching you. Wanda didn’t seem to want to let go of you, despite the rest of your family coming to crowd around her.

Tapping her back lightly, she let you slip from her hold. Turning to face the team, your face grew into a huge grin. Bucky stood in the back, giving you a curt nod before moving to sit on one of the couches. Hugging the rest of the team, tears began to form in your eyes. It had been too long you were away from them.

Five years just felt like a number when you said it. But the weight of it settled on your shoulders as you talked to your family. Five was just a number, it truly had been too long.

Jokes and teasing circled in the room, Steve patted you on the shoulder with a light threat never to do this again. A part of you assumed he was joking, but he seemed too serious for you to laugh it off easily. They dragged you over to the couches.

The grin on your face grew as the compliments flew through the room. The way you looked now was far too different from when you left for them not to notice. You’d left looking as a corpse of who they used to know. Now, you were glowing with laughter and jokes as you talked with them.

Moments you knew you’d treasure flew by until they noticed Yelena standing to the side. She tried not to look awkward, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets as she watched you. You reached out a hand for her. She took it and sat down next to you, squeezing herself between you and Tony.

“Who is she?” Wanda asked, tilting her head to the side curiously. Her arm hooked around yours protectively, she rested her head on your shoulder.

“Yelena?” A voice sounded behind you before you could answer.

The voice was familiar, almost too familiar. Turning around your eyes caught onto the reason you’d been avoiding your family. She wasn’t the same person you’d remembered. Her hair was blonde, she still walked with confidence, but that stride broke once she saw you.

Your jaw clenched subtly, you turned back around to Wanda who looked at you in concern. Giving her a tight nod, you glanced towards Yelena. She looked from you towards her sister, uncertain if she should greet her.

Giving her a nod and a small smile, you squeezed her hand to let her know you’d be alright. Without any words exchanged, she went up to greet her.

“Natalia,” Yelena spoke, a smile slowly growing on her face at the sight of her sister. Both of them grinned at each other before hugging tightly.

Yelena was a bit stiff as she hugged her, Natasha’s unspoken mistake still loomed in the air. She hugged her tightly before letting her go. She talked to her in Russian for a bit, you couldn’t understand any of the words.

The rest of the team stared at them curiously, wondering who she was. It wasn’t until they rejoined you on the couches was it they asked. Yelena returned to your side, her hand sliding into yours by habit.

“Who is she?” Steve asked you, a frown ghosting his face. You could only assume he wanted to be protective of you again. Bucky sat at his side quietly, scared of ruining anything again.

“I’m Yelena Belova,” Yelena answered for herself, winking at you when you glanced towards her.

Another smile twisted the corner of your lips at the gesture as you looked around the rest of the team. Natasha’s features flickered for a moment, into hurt, maybe even fear. You couldn’t tell, she put up her mask again.

“How do you know y/n?” Tony asked, leaning forwards and letting his elbows rest on his knees. He looked at her as if he was judging her. You chuckled and patted Yelena’s thigh comfortingly before speaking.

“Guys stop interrogating her.” You chided, watching Tony chuckle before leaning back into the couch.

You weren’t sure why you were protective of Yelena. They were your family. After all, you doubted they were going to chase her away. Even if they could, you weren’t sure they would want to.

Starting a conversation with them, you joked around for a bit before roping Yelena into the conversation. It flowed easily; she added to the stories you told and the comments you made. The stories you told weaved together flawlessly.

Natasha wasn’t paying any attention to the story, her eyes staring at the engagement ring on your finger. Yelena’s hand was intertwined with yours, denying her view to see the ring she was sure was there. She wanted to say something, maybe congratulate you, lie that she was happy for you.

The words were already dry in her mouth as she stared. She was the first to notice the engagement, but the last to comment on it.

“Y/n/n you’re engaged?!” Wanda exclaimed, noticing the ring when you made a gesture with your left hand.

She took your hand in hers, jaw almost dropping over the size of the ring. Gorgeous was hardly the word to describe it. It was a rose gold solitaire adorned with diamonds on the band. The diamonds looked like they were woven into the band itself.

A grin plastered itself onto your face as the rest of the team started to fawn over your ring. Before any of them could ask who you were engaged to, Yelena put her hand next to yours. A ring was placed on her finger as well.

“We are,” Yelena stated, her grin matching yours as you turned to face her.

Neither of you seemed to notice Natasha sitting frozen on the couches. The ring on Yelena’s finger wasn’t just any ring. It was your mother's ring, the one you’d talked about proposing with. The same ring you swore would bring luck to any wedding.

The ring she had been so sure she would wear someday.

“When?” Natasha croaked, clearing her throat after she spoke. The attention turned to her, the team glaring at her. It was as if her speaking could somehow take you away again. Maybe it could if she wasn’t careful.

“Nat,” Wanda whispered angrily, a red wisp forming on Natasha’s elbow. Natasha winced, glaring at the witch before turning back to face you. The question hung in the air for a few seconds, but you didn’t fill the silence.

“A few months ago,” Yelena answered for you. You gave her a grateful smile before turning towards the rest of the team.

Nervousness showed in your eyes as you glanced around the room. Your fiance squeezed your thigh gently, helping build up your courage for the request she knew you wanted to say. Biting your lip tightly, you took in a breath.

“We um,” You glanced at Yelena who gave you a soft smile you sought comfort in. “we wanted you to come to our wedding.”

A moment of quiet passed over your words before happiness and laughter quickly filled the room. The rings continued to be fawned over as new wedding plans were made. Your wedding plans, even your savings for them hardly seemed to matter as Tony announced he would be paying for it. You knew you couldn’t talk him out of it, despite how you might try to.

The team talked about the kind of wedding you should have, a spring wedding, a grand ball, anything. Plans and ideas flew around the room, the only person never offering any being Natasha. She sat silently on the couch, staring at the ground.

Your eyes glanced towards her before flitting back to Yelena, smiling brightly at your fiance. The same smile you used to wear around her, the one she thought she could never get enough of. The same lovesick grin the rest of the team made fun of you for. It was for someone who wasn’t her.

Natasha got up quietly, offering Yelena a tight smile of congratulations before padding out of the room. Her footsteps hardly made any sound as she made the effort to leave your life the way it is.

The conversation flowed on behind her, your laughter floating through the room. The wedding date wasn’t fixed yet, you weren’t sure when you should have it. Better sooner than later, you never knew how long something might last.

This, your family, you hoped this would last forever.

————

The TV played on in the background as you talked to Wanda about wedding plans. She had long since agreed to become your maid of honor. The witch was adamant about making this wedding perfect, you smiled as you talked to her about the flowers for the wedding.

Yelena was still unsure about who should be her best man/woman. Natasha was her first choice for it, but she wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with it. You’d told her you’d be alright with it, still, she waited in case.

The popcorn seemed to be taking a little longer than it should have. You’d offered to help her with it, but the blonde declined your offer, adamant she could do it on her own. You continued talking to Wanda about your wedding plans, unsure what kind of flowers you should have.

Wanda began saying that roses were a better idea, you weren’t paying much attention as you saw Natasha enter the room. Your eyes flitted over to her, your expression faltering for an instant. Bringing your mask back up, you nodded to Wanda to show you were listening. She didn’t buy it, glancing behind her. Noticing Natasha, she turned back to you, continuing her conversation.

“Hey, y/n…” Natasha trailed off, fidgeting with her fingers as she stood behind the couch. You turned to face her, giving her a tight nod. Wanda stopped talking, turning around to face the assassin.

“Hello.” You greeted, turning back to the movie. Even you weren’t willing to pretend everything was okay with her. The witch glanced between both of you before locking her gaze onto Natasha.

“Can I talk to you?” She asked, her weight shuffling on her feet. She glanced from you to Wanda, the witch glared at her angrily. Ignoring her gaze, she turned back to face you. You weren’t looking at her, your eyes looking at Yelena.

Your fiance gave you a supportive nod, the popcorn still in her hands. The look of concern on her face told you she would be here for you if things went south. You nodded at her, smiling gratefully then turning towards Natasha.

Your smile dissipated the instant you looked at her, your eyes which were full of adoration only moments ago were empty, too empty.

“Alright.” You nodded.

Natasha smiled at you, hoping you would return it. Your face remained blank, prompting her to lead you to somewhere more private. The assassin sighed softly, hoping you wouldn’t hear her disappointment but wanting you to.

She walked towards her room, the same room you called home before leaving. Looking inside, you saw that not much had changed. It seemed all too familiar. Everything from the decorations, to the way the bed was made, even some of the pictures were your own.

Bile rose to your throat when you looked at a picture of the two of you on your anniversary. A glass of champagne was in your hand, your lips on her cheek, the corner of your mouth quirked into a grin. A grin plastered on Natasha’s face, her arm wrapped around your waist.

You picked up the frame from her bedside, aware of Natasha’s eyes watching your movements. A sigh left your lips as you looked at it.

The moment frozen in time. You let yourself fall back into time, experiencing that night over again. How ecstatic you were about spending 3 years with Natasha, three whole years. The nervousness about the party. The emotions were still frozen in the picture, you wished you could rid yourself of them.

“What do you need to talk about?” You croaked, swallowing as you set down the picture frame. Standing awkwardly on the edge of the bed, you fidgeted with your fingers as Natasha took a seat on the bed.

“Why did you come back?” She asked, her voice betraying no emotion. You swallowed, eyes flitting towards the ground instead.

“You and I both know it’s not just because I asked you to.” She continued, eyes watching you carefully. You sighed and looked up at her, shuffling back slightly. Natasha patted the spot on the bed for you to sit, you stepped forwards, then stopped.

It was the same bed she had broken you in. The same bed you’d sworn to be by each other’s side forever. The broken promises still lingered in the air like smoke. Breathing it in, you clenched your jaw tightly. Shaking your head, you shuffled backward and leaned against the wall.

Why did you come back?

It wasn’t because she asked you to. You weren’t sure it was because you wanted your family at your wedding. maybe it was to see her again, to prove how much better you were without her.

To show her what she lost.

“Remember what I told you then?” You asked, tilting your head to the side as you looked up at her. The words were a bit hazy in your mind, somewhat like a nightmare you had a long time ago.

“Will I, will I ever see you again?” Natasha asked timidly, hope underlining her tone. She couldn’t stop you from leaving her with her mistakes. All she could do was hope for your return. Upon seeing your expression, that seemed unlikely.

“If the entire world turns upside down, you might.” You said a halfhearted joke as you turned towards the door.

Leaving your things behind, leaving your entire family behind. There wasn’t anything here for you anymore.

“I don’t think I can forget,” Natasha murmured, the words as clear as day in her mind. The day you’d left, she couldn’t forget it. Your broken smile when walked out of her life haunted her, despite the pictures of your happiness she surrounded herself with.

“I told you that you might see me again if the world turns upside down.” You repeated, voice shaking. You cleared your throat, chuckling lightly as you leaned back against the wall. Your eyes roamed the room, taking in every detail before meeting Natasha’s eyes.

“It kind of did, didn’t it?” You chuckled, tilting your head.

Your life didn’t take the turn you’d expected. The plan was to marry Natasha, hopefully, grow old with her. Maybe get a house by the beach and have twins. That was what the plan had always been. It was still there, the house by the beach, the playground for your kids.

Natasha was the only change.

“I found everything I wanted in someone you consider your family.” You continued, hands moving to rest behind your back.

A smile crossed your face as you thought of Yelena. The way her lips quirked up into a smile, even at your bad jokes, the comfort of how her skin felt against yours, the sound of her voice when she’d just woken up.

She was all yours, you had the pride of calling her your fiance.

“You found something in someone I considered my brother.” You muttered, your thoughts turning towards Bucky.

Hurt flashed across your features before you masked it quickly, turning to look up at her. The blonde fidgeted at your words, nibbling her lip and looking away from you.

“Bucky and I,” Natasha began, licking her lips. “we aren’t, we aren’t together.”

Your eyebrows raised, you’d thought Bucky was who she’d be running to for comfort after you. It had only made sense that she should leave you for another relationship. But just for sex, that was lower than even you thought she could stoop.

“That’s a surprise.” You mused, turning to look away from her and the bed.

An uncomfortable silence shrouded the room, suffocating you. You didn’t know how to break it. Small talk was the last thing on your mind. Thinking you should leave, you shifted your weight and put one foot forwards before the blonde spoke.

“I’m surprised if you remember my name,” Natasha whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. A frown etched into her face as tears began to line her eyes.

“What?” You asked, hoping you heard her wrong. Her voice was rarely quiet, only taking a lower stance when she was scared. It hurt a little she was scared, or even upset because of you.

“The way you look at me,” She continued, knowing you heard her. “it’s like you don’t even remember me.”

You hesitated, letting her words take their place. Your mask dropped, eyes looking down at the ground as a sad smile twisted your lips. Of course, she would bring this up, you had never looked at her this way like she never meant anything to you.

“I used to look at you like you were my world.” You muttered, shaking your head lightly. You wished you were lying. You wished you hadn’t made her your world just to let her take it away from you.

“It’s almost ironic you took it away from me.” You whispered, looking up to face her. The mask you made just for her began to shatter. A tear slipped down your face, sliding across your face until it dropped onto the floor.

“I never meant to,” Natasha whispered, voice shaking as she saw you cry because of her, again. Her hand reached out towards your face, stopping she realized it wasn’t her place. Her words made you snap, your head whipping up to face her.

“It doesn’t matter what you meant to do Na-” You stopped yourself before you could say her name.

You didn’t know why you couldn’t say her name. You’d called her everything from Tasha to Nattie, you didn’t know why it was so hard for you. It was hardly a surprise when you couldn’t even think of her without hurting.

“Say it,” Natasha demanded, head snapping up to yours. Tears grew in her waterline, her voice breaking as she moved forwards. You swallowed thickly, pushing yourself further into the wall.

“Say my name, please.” She begged, looking up at you pleadingly. A tear slipped out of her eye, she retreated as her hands moved to wipe it away hastily.

You took in a shaky breath, wanting nothing more than to leave things the way they were. Closure was a gift you never got. The wounds were still torn open no matter how much you tried to stitch them shut. Saying her name would tear you apart, all over again.

“Does it still hurt you to think about me?” Natasha asked when you stayed silent. Her eyes looked at you imploringly, almost begging you for an answer.

How could it not hurt?

Thinking about her always brought back memories, always the good memories. The best of what you were, never the worst. The memories showed you everything you were, how she brought out the best part of you.

It also showed you what she took away.

“Yes.” You answered, just when Natasha was beginning to think you might stay silent.

Natasha flinched back as if you’d physically hurt her. Her mask was in pieces, she didn’t care about the emotions she was showing. Every attempt she made to try to calm herself, to stop feeling, it never worked.

“Do you have any idea what you did to me?” You asked, incredulous she had even asked you if it still hurt. The blonde didn’t respond, staying silent in fear she might hurt you more.

“You took away everything I gave you, and then more.” You said, breath leaving you in harsh pants. your hand ran through your hair as you began pacing in the room. Natasha’s eyes never left you, even as her vision grew blurry with tears.

“The peace I felt around you, the home you’d made for me,” You shouted, tears slipping down your face. “all of it.”

You wiped your face hastily with your hands, watching them come away wet with tears and mascara. All your pain was out in the open for her to see. The pain was caused by her mistakes. You cowered into yourself, leaning back against the closet.

Trying desperately to slow your breathing, you rested your head on the door. Staring up at the ceiling, you let the lights blind you for a treasured few seconds. Blinking rapidly, you looked back at Natasha. She watched you with emerald eyes you’d let yourself get lost in too many times.

“It still hurts when I think of you.” You whispered, looking her in the eyes.

Natasha’s jaw clenched, blinking to try to stop her tears. She turned around to look at the rest of the room. The pictures of you still decorated the walls the way they used to when you were still here. The decorations you’d bought for the room, even some of your clothes were in her closet.

Never could she let you go.

“I never stopped thinking of you.” She admitted, turning slowly to look back at you. It was still somewhat like a dream, to have you here with her. A dream she was too scared to wake up from to let you go.

“You should.” You said, sighing after. You backed up slightly, wiping away the remaining tears on your face.

Mascara stained your hands and your sleeves. You didn’t know what Natasha wanted from you, you could only assume she wanted you back in her life, even after you’d been adamant about keeping away.

“I’m not giving you my heart again,” You stated, glancing away from her. “it doesn’t matter what you promise me.”

Some truth remained in your words. Even if she promised you the world, or for her to be better, you wouldn’t give up your world for her again. Your heart was once something you gave away carelessly to her. You didn’t want to repeat your mistake.

“I don’t want that from you,” Natasha said, catching your attention. Your gaze flitted back to her as a confused frown ghosted your features. The frown etched itself onto your face as she let the silence slowly drag on.

“What do you want from me?” You asked, watching her wince back slightly. She straightened her stance as if she was preparing herself for something. Silence dragged on as she prepared herself for pain before finally speaking.

“I want you to forgive me.”

Your mouth opened to yell at her, to scream that what she did was near unforgivable. For her to even think that you could forgive her after everything. You’d told her what she had taken away from you, and she still thought she could be forgiven.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Natasha stated before you could speak. Her hand lifted in a plead for you to hear her out.

Your mouth closed but opened again as you considered keeping your silence. The blonde didn’t care for your silence, wanting you to hear the apology she had ran over thousands of times in her head.

“Please, I never meant to hurt you.” She repeated, knowing it wasn’t the apology you wanted to hear.

She swore she could not have prepared more for this moment. For having you in front of her so she could apologize to you. Even practicing in the mirror, over and over again didn’t help her. Seeing you in front of her, breaking all over again because she couldn’t be who you wanted her to.

It wasn’t something she had prepared for.

“Maybe it was unfair for me to fall in love with you in the first place when I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep you. I’m sorry.” She apologized, guiltily shifting her feet under her. Her legs dangled over the edge of the bed, she looked at them thoughtfully.

It wasn’t fair for her to try to be in a relationship when she couldn’t keep one. Maybe with you, she thought it would be different. But even you couldn’t change the mistakes she would make. Even at the start of your relationship, she knew she would hurt you somehow. You assured her that she couldn’t.

In the end, her mistakes would always come to haunt her.

“Falling in love wasn’t your mistake,” You spoke, bringing her attention up to you. “it was unfair of you to try to treasure something you knew you couldn’t keep.”

It was unfair of her, so unfair to lead you on for years, give you everything you knew you wanted. To make plans for the future, you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with her, so clearly. Then to take it all away again, just because she knew she couldn’t keep you.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha repeated, trying to make you stay. You could see her hand reach out for you before stopping herself.

A sigh left your lips as you moved down to kneel in front of her. Your fingertips hovered over hers before moving away. You whispered to try to get her attention, it didn’t work. Your hands slid into hers, squeezing gently.

She opened her eyes in surprise, looking at your hands in hers, the engagement ring adorning your finger. Her hands gripped yours tightly as if you were a lifeline.

Tears began to fall on your hands. You wanted to try to comfort her more, but this was all you could do. It was almost as if you were leaving her all over again, promising to say out of her life.

“Natasha,” You whispered, smiling when she looked up at you. Her eyes were so soft, so vulnerable in this moment.

Your thumbs slid over the skin of her hand, you looked at her carefully. She was still the woman you’d fallen head over heels for. But Natasha couldn’t be the person you spent the rest of your life with.

“Our time is over.” You said softly, wincing when she turned away from you. More tears dropped onto your palms. Her hands held onto yours tightly, you slipped one out of her grip to turn her face towards yours.

“We had our time together,” You continued, smiling at the fond memories of her. “and yeah it was beautiful.”

This is what you’d been missing all of these years.

Letting go.

It wasn’t as easy as moving to the other side of the world. It was looking her in the eye and saying that your time was over. It was letting both of you heal from the mistakes.

“I just wish we could have lasted longer,” Natasha whispered, clinging onto your hands tightly. She’d told you before that you were the best thing that ever happened to her. You were, it was foolish of her to cut your time so short.

“Maybe, but we weren’t beautiful because we lasted.” You said, tugging her attention back up to you.

A light frown ghosted her face at your words. Your eyes gazed over her features, committing them to memory. The emerald eyes, soft cheekbones, the features you had grown to love.

“It was beautiful because it happened.” You whispered, your thumb tracing over her cheekbone gently.

A smile graced your lips, a tear falling from your eye onto your hands. A sigh left your lips as you moved up, leaning down you closed your eyes. Your lips met her forehead gently, her hands tugged you closer. You smiled, as she let go of you, letting you pull away.

A knock sounded on the door, you turned to face it, knowing it was Yelena.

“Come in.” You said, slowly wiping the tears away from your eyes. Yelena stepped into the room, taking in the scene in front of her. She glanced towards her sister wiping her face on her sleeves, giving her a sympathetic smile before turning towards you.

“Hey,” Yelena greeted, moving to slide her hand into yours. You smiled as her shoulder bumped against yours. “everything alright?”

“Yeah just,” You glanced towards Natasha. The blonde looked up at the two of you, no longer looking hurt. Instead, she looked at you with a gentle smile, finding herself finally letting go of you.

“Just catching up.” You answered, smiling up at Yelena.

She looked from you to Natasha, nodding at her sister. She would want to talk to her later, you were sure of it, but now wasn’t the time. Nodding towards the door, silently asking if you wanted to leave. You nodded letting her walk you out.

“wait.” You said, stopping in your tracks. A confused look showed on her face as your hand slipped out of hers, heading back to Natasha. Your fiance followed you back, leaning against the doorframe.

“I, I want you to come to our wedding.” You stuttered, shifting your weight. Wringing your hands together, you looked to face her. She looked unsure, her eyes glancing from your ring to her sister.

“Are you sure you want me there?” She asked, tilting her head to the side curiously. You nodded, looking back at Yelena. The blonde smiled at you, knowing it was hard for you to do this. You sought comfort in her smile, nodding again at Natasha.

“Lena considers you as her family,” You said, shrugging easily. “it’s only fair.”

Lena, the nickname was so familiar coming from you. Natasha raised an eyebrow, seeing as you didn’t answer her question. You chuckled softly at the action. She could always tell you had a different answer than what you said.

“I want you there,” You stated, watching her features light up into a smile. She nodded, looking from you to your fiance. Yelena looked certain she wanted Natasha to be there. She smiled and nodded.

“I’ll be there,” Natasha said.

You smiled in relief, waving at her as you walked out of the room. Yelena’s arm slid around your waist, her fingers reaching towards the ring you wore. Her fingers twisted them around your finger thoughtfully.

She didn’t know what you’d talked about with Natasha. But you were in a lighter mood, easily walking around the compound, telling more stories. You were more at ease, the closure bringing you in a different state of mind.

Years ago, you wouldn’t have even considered coming back here. The memories near painful for you. Now, the memories seemed like a story you told a long time ago. You thought the story had ended when you left.

But now, you’d finally let go.

In a way, it was a good thing the world turned upside down.

A/N: Please for the sake of my sanity reblog and comment and tell me what you think!!

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @marvelbbyx , @wlw-imaginesss , @hcartbyheart , @summergeezburr , @imnotasuperhero , @a-stressedstudent , @aaron-despair , @rooskaya-yelena , @dynnealberto , @thewitchandtheassassin , @wannabe-fic-reader , @izalesbean, @higherfurther-romanova , @natalia-quinzel , @stephanieromanoff , @fayhar , @darkangelxoxo-blog let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

Note

Anon who’s dog had a seizure. I wanted to be able to give a positive update, but I won’t be able to. I was woken up by a call at around 1:30am from my mom and the first thing she said was “[my dogs name] died”

I don’t know all the details, I was in a full fledge panic attack and was overcome with despair when it was either explained to me or I overheard (frankly, I don’t remember) but apparently at some point either last night or veryyyyy early this morning my mom let the dog out to use the restroom, and he collapsed again similarly to how he did two days ago. My mom rushed him to the emergency vet (a thirty minute drive) but he didn’t even make it there.

I think I was dry heaving at some point because my panic was so bad. I ended up going to the vet with my dad so I could say goodbye (he had before my mom left with the dog) and ngl, going with him did not help in the slightest. My dad has NPD and he kept making the situation about himself and I stg I was ready to throw myself out the car window in the middle of the freeway and walk the rest of the way there OOP—

I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to because of Covid, but we were allowed to all head into the vet and hold him and give proper goodbyes before they took him to be cremated (they have a partnership with some place that does all that jazz). It was rough. He’s a small dog, only 18 pounds, but just holding him felt so different. There was no resistance when I picked him up (I’m not his favorite person lol, so he’d always deadpan and shuffle away a little from me before giving in whenever i’d make grabby hands hahaha) and it was just rough.

A year and a half ago my old bird passed away in that same emergency vet, so I just felt like I was suffocating the whole time. It was basically history repeating itself and I had a ✨mental breakdown✨ while cradling the pooch. My mom almost had to drag me out 2.5 hours later because I didn’t want to leave him. I tried to be strong, he was her dog in the end and they had an unbreakable bond. I should’ve been the one comforting her, not the other way around. I totally failed lol.

Thank god I was able to go home with my mom and not my dad. I wanted to be the one to drive home so she could rest, but I didn’t have the energy to protest when I saw she was already in the drivers seat.

We’ve had him since he was a few months old. I was in first grade at the time, and despite us having a very rocky start (young me didn’t like all the attention he received bc it used to be mine) he was my lil buddy and I would have done anything for him. I was looking forward to taking my senior and graduation pictures with him soon, but it seems like that won’t be happening. I just wish I did more with him.

Sorry for rambling and being so depressing! I haven’t gotten much sleep over the past two nights so I’m really out of it.

If it’s not too much to ask for, could I have a part ii of my previous request but have it involving what I wrote above? Asdfghjkl my depressed ass needs comfort and all of my friends are in school LOL. (Thank god I was called off from school this time) Plus, I don’t wanna make my mom feel worse by adding my grief on top of her own (I hope that made sense)

Part 1

(A/N): anon, I’m so sorry to hear about your dog. From what you sent me about him, he sounded like an absolute delight to be around and a very good boy. You deserve to grieve too, even if you don’t think you should. Grieving is healthy and it’s something that shouldn’t be ignored. Everyone grieves differently, so maybe you and your mom could reminisce on the good times with him? Only if you both feel comfortable doing so of course. Please get some sleep, drink plenty of water, and eat some food if you haven’t already. My DMs are always open if you ever want to talk <3

Warnings: death of a dog and bird (mentioned), panic attacks, NPD parent mention

You were jolted awake by a loud ring from your phone laying on your nightstand. It was the ringtone you specifically set for your mom. Blinking deliriously, you answered with a raspy, “mom?”

You were only met with her choked sobs on the other end. This woke you up completely as you turned on a lamp and sat up fully in your bed, “mom what’s wrong?”

“(Dog name)...” She was unable to say your dog's name before she broke into more harsh sobbing. Worry and fear pricked your gut at the mention of your dog’s name. “What about (dog name)? What’s going on?”

“He d-died, (y/n). He isn’t suffering anymore.” You felt as if ice cold water was poured onto you as you sat staring at the wall in shock. Faintly you heard your mom telling you how it happened, but you didn’t register her words. The words that came out of your mother’s mouth were nearly incomprehensible anyways due to her distress. You didn’t know when she hung up, but the next time you looked at the phone screen your homescreen met you: a picture of you, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy at an amusement park.

Your panic attack had escalated to you dry heaving over the toilet after puking up your dinner. You felt like you were suffocating as you remembered the techniques Techno used a few days prior. You stumbled up from a crouch and scrambled over to the sink. Your hands could barely grab the faucet and turn it on as you lost most of your sense of spatial awareness and everything you touched felt distant, like every single synapse in your body was both simultaneously working in overdrive and failing at the same time. The water was as cold as it was going to get, so you plunged your hands into the liquid and felt your body jolt at the temperature. After a while, your hands turned numb after regaining some senses back so you shakily cupped your hands under the faucet and gathered water into your hands. You splashed it at your face and felt yourself becoming more grounded as time passed.

By the time you left the bathroom, your dad gathered you into the car and started to drive you to the emergency vet. The entire time he was ranting about how you needed to pull yourself together because the dog was closer to him than to you. That definitely did not help in any way, it made you want to jump out of the car and walk the rest of the way to the vet. It would be better than having someone constantly belittling you for grieving. The ride was hell, but you persevered for (dog name). You needed to say goodbye to him.

When you left the car and walked into the building, it felt as if you were walking through the nine rings of hell with blazing infernos licking at your skin with every step. Dread and despair filled and overwhelmed you with every step.

When a nurse escorted you to the room, she offered you her condolences and left you to say goodbye. With wide eyes, you slowly walked over to your mom and saw the motionless bundle of fur in her hands. It looked like he was sleeping, but you knew better. She looked at you with so much heartbreak and sadness as tears slipped down her cheeks that you remembered that he was her dog in the end and they’ve always had an unbreakable bond. You needed to be strong for her.

Your stony facade broke the second your mom handed you (dog name). He was cold and stiff as he laid unmoving in your arms, not even trying to wiggle out of your embrace like he always did. You were never his favorite person. He felt so… different. So wrong.

Time passed around you as you held him and cried into his fur. This situation was very similar to your previous one that happened about a year and a half ago when your bird passed away and that was what finally sent you over the edge. Before you knew it, your mom was dragging you out of the building so he could get cremated. Your dad had long since gone home so he could get ready for work, so that left you to ride home with your mom. Not that you were complaining, it was certainly better than riding home with your dad. You just wished that you could drive so she could get some rest.

By time you got home, it was about the same time you would leave for school. As you were driving down your neighborhood, you saw a very familiar car pass you. It was Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy’s car. They were probably going to school. You kept your head down and stared intensely at your tightly clasped hands.

The second the car was in park in your driveway, you made a beeline for your room. For the rest of the day, you hid underneath your covers and ignored the incessant buzzing of your phone on the nightstand. You spent that time alone having a panic attack. This was your longest and most intense one yet, by the time it finally calmed down it was 10:30 at night.

You smacked your dry lips together and feel absolutely drained. The buzzing still wouldn’t let up, so you reached out with a shaky hand and opened your phone. You had at least eighty combined missed texts from Wilbur, Tommy, and Techno.

Tuesday, Innit?

Yo, the fuck’s goin on?

Why the hell did you ignore us when we passed you???

Music man take me by the hand lead me to the land

Ignore that dumbass

What’s going on? You weren’t at school today

(Y/n)?

Technology Sword

You don’t have to tell us what happened if you’re not comfortable

Just tell us if you’re okay

That was only the start of the messages in the group chat. Granted it was mostly Tommy spamming your name and Wilbur and Techno trying to get him to chill out, but some of the messages managed to calm the swirling panic inside of you slightly. Your phone buzzed as you got another text. This time, it was an individual one from Technoblade.

Technology Sword

Look out your window, grab your notebook

You raised your eyebrows slightly as you read the message. Your window was right across from Technoblade’s, so when you saw Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me” music video and showed it to Techno, you both decided that this would be your primary communication before you eventually got phones. It wasted a ton of paper, but you both felt like the main characters in a story so you kept doing it. You hadn’t done this since you got your phone and he got his.

After you grabbed your spare notebook and a sharpie, you sat up in your bed and turned on your lamp. When you opened your curtains, you saw Techno smiling at you before he grabbed his notebook and wrote ‘hello’.

You uncapped your marker, wrote ‘hi’, and shakily raised it to him. You saw him frown at your shakiness, he wrote ‘you okay?’

You stared at your paper for a bit contemplating whether or not you should tell him the truth. It was no use in lying to him, he knew you better than you knew yourself. After a moment, you wrote ‘no’.

You watched as he frowned and his eyebrows crinkled together in an upwards slant. ‘Discord?’

‘Sure’

You closed your curtains once more and opened up your PC. You could already see that Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy were in a separate voice channel. When you joined, you were startled by Tommy’s loud screaming and Wilbur’s hysterical laughter.

“WILBUR YOU PRICK WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT I WORKED SO HARD GETTING THAT NETHERITE!”

They were interrupted by a knock on Tommy’s door, “Tommy for the love of god it’s almost eleven at night kiddo. You can keep playing but please just keep it down.”

“SORRY DADZA!”

“Good job dumbass,” Wilbur chuckled.

“Hey (y/n), how’re you?” Techno’s somewhat pointed voice interrupted them. “(Y/N)! Please tell Wilbur that it’s not cool to borrow my armor and ‘accidentally’ fall into a lava lake.”

“It was an accident I swear!” Wilbur’s slight chuckle told you otherwise. “Wilbur,” your croaky and wobbly voice scolded him quietly, “not cool.”

The voice channel went silent as you logged into your shared minecraft server. You immediately spawned in the main lobby at spawn that you built the last time you logged in. You got to work gathering wood for walls you were going to build around the city. You saw Techno’s character run to you and help you gather wood.

“...You good, (y/n)?” Tommy’s voice took on an uncharacteristic level of gentleness and concern.

“‘M fine.”

After a while of silence, you heard keyboards start to click again. Gradually conversation started back up and everything felt lighthearted once more. Though, you only talked when you were prompted to. After gathering the correct amount of wood, you and Techno went back to your house so you could craft some slabs. However as you approached the crafting table, you passed your bed. Next to your bed was your pet dog, barking slightly and looking at you with it’s pixel eyes.

You could feel tears well up in your eyes at the sight of the pixelated dog. With a lump forming in your throat you struggled to breathe through it, your breaths coming out shuttering. You made quick work of muting yourself on Discord and started sobbing, the white dog staring at you sitting on top of your minecraft bed. This wasn’t a panic attack, you knew that. But you still felt overcome by a massive wave of grief.

After a bit, you saw Techno’s character pop in front of you and start hitting the air. In chat, you saw that he private messaged you ‘vc 2’

You clicked off the main voice chat and was immediately greeted by Techno’s gentle voice. “What’s goin on buddy?” He was only met with your sobs, “deep breaths.”

“I’m not having a panic attack.”

“Still, deep breaths are good. Follow me.” With that, you two worked on getting your breathing back to normal and your tears slowly stopped. The entire time he was giving you praise and gentle reassurances whenever you tried to apologize to him. By the time you stopped crying you felt almost completely drained.

“You okay now?” You hummed in confirmation, too tired to say anything. “Thank you Tech, I-I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing for feeling emotions. They’re one hundred percent valid… Do you feel comfortable telling me what happened?”

“I…” You trailed off as you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words out loud. “You don’t have to tell me, ya know.” Technoblade gently reminded you.

“I’ll PM it to you.” With that, you PMed him on minecraft explaining that your dog died this morning. “Fuck, I’m so sorry (y/n). I’m sure he isn’t suffering anymore. Did- did they ever find out what caused the seizures?”

“No, but… he had tons of health issues that I’m glad he doesn’t have to deal with anymore.”

“Do you wanna talk about the good times with him with Wil and Tommy? If you don’t want to we can just talk about them here.”

“Let’s rejoin the main voice channel.”

“Hey (y/n), how’re you doing?” Wilbur gently asked you. “I’m alright, do- do you guys know what happened?” They both said yes. Technoblade must’ve told them what was happening.

“(Y/n) come outside. We built something for you.” Tommy was uncharastically gentle.

When you moved to go outside of your minecraft house and Wilbur and Tommy led you to an empty spot in the city you four were building, you stopped in your tracks. In front of you built in various types of stone was a dog statue. In front of it stood a sign that read ‘in loving memory of (dog name)’.

“We aren’t done with it, but we can finish it in a couple of hours,” Wilbur mumbled into the microphone.

“No, it’s perfect as it is. I don’t know what to say guys…”

“You don’t have to say anything, just know that we’re here for you.” Tommy said, his minecraft character walking over to your own and hitting you.

“Oi, don’t hit them!” Techno punched him back and that started an all out brawl between the two. It quickly ended when Techno pulled out his fully enchanted netherite sword named ‘Orphan Obliterator’.

“Get fucked, nerd.” You could just tell Tommy was holding in screaming at his brother. “I’m not the nerd here, you’re the one that reads for fun.” Tommy retorted. You heard shuffling on Techno’s end and him walking away from his PC. You were about to ask what was happening before you heard Tommy silently scream in terror. “Oh fuck he’s coming!” You assumed that Tommy ran to lock his door. Not long after that you heard a knock, “I just wanna talk.”

“No! You-”

“I just wanna talk.”

“Let him talk, Tommy!”

“NO WILBUR.”

You heard Philza’s groggy muffled voice, “it is midnight on a Friday. I don’t care what happens or who fights who, just do it in your own rooms and do it quietly.”

“Sorry Dad,” you heard Techno’s retreating steps before he returned to his chair. “You’re a douche, Technoblade.”

“I just wanted to talk, Tommy.” At that, Techno started beating Tommy to death once more. Each time he would kill Tommy, he would give Tommy a small head start before he would find him again. While this was happening, Wilbur PMed you ‘wanna prank Tommy and Techno? I’m thinking we put chickens under their houses’.

You looked at his player and nodded. You and Wilbur got to work luring chickens into holes you dug around their bases and burying them so that they were close enough to hear, but deep enough for it to be mildly inconvenient finding them. After you two were done with that, you met at spawn again.

“Techno stop killing Tommy. We want to tell stories about (dog name).” You saw Techno’s character sprint to your group and Tommy’s come up from a hole in the ground. “I was just about to find him.”

“Thank you! God, I hate it when he does that.”

The rest of the night you four spent reminiscing on the funny things that (dog name) did over the years. At some points you even laughed along with them. After you told them that you wanted to take your senior pictures with him, Techno offered to edit him into your photos. You didn’t know when you passed out but when you woke up, you had a crick in your neck and your PC monitor was off. You could hear three sets of soft snoring on the other end of the call. You felt yourself drifting off to their gentle breathing and smiled slightly; with them, everything felt better.

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #sbi family au #requests #hellion's requests #tw: panic attack #tw: anxiety #tw: animal death #tw: animal injury #tw: swearing

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pot-of-terv · 4 years ago

Photo

Disclaimer: This starts soft but very quickly goes to a place I did NOT expect it to go so, just, be prepared. I guess there were some things my muse just couldn’t leave untouched :_D There’s also an additional drawing in there somewhere among the text. The ending is kind of a cliffhanger (dun dun duuun... part three is coming!!) but it’s happy (hurt/comfort y’all, MY BRAND)!

Also I have to say- oh my goodness this ended up having over 2,000 words and I’ve never written a fic this long! This feels pretty amazing but also, very scary, because as you know I’m a Finn so English is not my first language and this far I’ve stuck to just writing itty bitty things. Writing a story with multiple parts is also new to me, so wow, actually, thank you PuzzleJune for making me challenge myself in fresh and exciting ways 🥺

tw: breakdown

PuzzleJune2021, Week Two: Space (Quiet)

It is mesmerising. Intoxicating, even, Atem muses as he reaches up to rub his own sleep-soft face, eyes never leaving the still sleeping figure beside him. He shifts to lay on his side, slowly, with deliberate movements, trying to not disturb the quiet of the early morning.

Watching him sleep like this... I can feel the bed move when he moves and his warmth whenever he's close enough. I never had that before, he thinks and his heart clenches. I have it now.

Yuugi snorts in his sleep and Atem can't help but smile. That boy... no, that young man, has been through so much, too much, and yet he still sleeps so soundly. It's nothing short of incredible and the pharaoh wonders if he's ever met anyone more deserving of respect and admiration. Their journey thus far has only lasted for a couple of years and during that short time, the former spirit of the Millenium Puzzle has had the first-row seat to witnessing Yuugi's strength, his growth - how he slowly but surely had begun to trust himself.

Atem turns his gaze away from Yuugi and mulls over that thought. It hurts him somewhere deep in his core to remember how little worth Yuugi had seen in himself during those first months after Atem's consciousness awakened. He touches his chest where his heart is and leaves his hand there, feeling the slow rhythm beating under his palm.

That feeling of self-doubt could as well be his own, for he did think he was Yuugi for a while back then. It's a troubling realisation and he frowns at the ceiling. Despite not having any memories, how many of those insecurities had been Atem's own that he subconsciously reflected towards Yuugi's heart and by doing so unknowingly meddled with Yuugi's self-image as a whole? Objectively he knows that his emergence helped Yuugi gain confidence even though he didn't remember those first few times Atem took his place, but subjectively...? Atem's brows knit tighter together and he balls the hand that rests on his chest into a fist.

To call these thoughts troubling is an understatement. Suddenly Atem feels uncomfortably restless, he can't keep still, he needs space, he has to move. But moving would mean leaving the warm blankets and the even warmer form next to him and risk waking him in the process.

His chest feels so tight and it aches in a way Atem hasn't felt in millennia and he squeezes his eyes shut, holds his breath and with one swift movement pushes the blankets off of himself, sits up and rolls to the side to plant his feet onto the floor. The wood is cool under the bare soles of his feet and that sudden feeling makes him pause for a moment. He releases the breath he was holding.

It's almost funny how he already feels better. He glances over his shoulder to see if he had woken Yuugi up but the other youth seems undisturbed, still fast asleep. Relieved, Atem stands up... and doesn't know what to do. It's still practically night time and the house is silent. Mama Mutou and Grandpa will be getting up in one to two hours and Yuugi much later than that if his previous findings are to be trusted. Normally he would happily snooze the morning away with Yuugi but he doesn't want to go back to bed, the restlessness still buzzing under his skin even though that unpleasant tightness in his chest has ebbed and is now just a nuisance instead of actual, painful anxiety.

He turns around to face the bed so he can take another look at Yuugi, properly. A glance wasn't enough. Will never be enough, he realises all of a sudden. I want to be looking at Yuugi, and only Yuugi, forever. How can his heart feel so big and full but so small at the same time?

Atem is overwhelmed, not yet used to the absolute link between his feelings and his physical senses, and he lifts his hand once more to his chest, almost desperately grasping his shirt and pressing his fist against his heart, to feel the beat of it, and the warmth of his body.

He has this body now and he should be so, so thankful for it, but at this moment he can only feel guilt. He loves Yuugi but has still put him through so much and he knows, oh how he knows, that the trip to Egypt broke him. Atem had felt Yuugi mourn him weeks beforehand, felt his grief he so valiantly tried to conceal - too bad their bond at that point was the strongest it had ever been and Atem knew. It took everything in him to keep on going, to keep on telling himself that this was the right thing to do, this was how he could repay Yuugi's kindness and let him go on with his life, let him be free. He had heard the modern phrase “if you love them let them go”, and wouldn't that have been so grand? To prove his love in such a poetic, profound way?

All that in spite of Yuugi's feelings screaming at him that to be separated was the last thing he wanted.

Atem chuckles, a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite having shared such an extraordinary bond, communication had never been their strongest point, duels usually excluded, and talking about their feelings was not an exception. Still isn’t. They both had just kept on doing what they thought was the best for the other and in the process ended up wounding each other in ways that Atem isn't sure he can ever truly understand. Yesterday he had come down to the kitchen to find Yuugi folding laundry, eyes puffy and red, yet when he talked he sounded so happy. Atem had left it at that because there's nothing he could do when confronted by that smile that can put even the Sun in shade.

Slowly he realises that he's been staring at his partner for such a long time that it must be bordering on creepy. How did he get here from that warmth he first woke up to, from that love he so deeply feels for Yuugi? Why hasn’t he thought about these things before? It's like all he has in his head are questions with no answers to calm his mind. It's only been a week since... since it all should've ended, but didn't, all because of Atem's selfishness. Selfishness... and love. His own heart had broken when his life points counted down to zero and he saw the utter hopelessness he felt surface in his heart reflected right back at him on Yuugi's face. The memory of it is still so strong that he has to grit his teeth together to keep his jaw from trembling.

He hadn’t been able to stand that expression, to stand the knowledge that he was the cause of it. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough. The pride he had felt toward Yuugi's skill was completely overshadowed by the grief that hit him in waves, his legs feeling like lead as he slowly walked to Yuugi, his own voice distant to his ears as he offered words of consolation and praise. Empty words, they were, he knew it then and he knows it now. How could he ever leave this person who had gone through so much for him, because of him, who had loved him so fully, who had risked it all to be there for him in his quest to regain his memories even when knowing that the price for that would be too steep to consider if Yuugi ever stopped to do that?

Atem had never wanted to leave. He had learned to live again, to have friends, and grow as a person, no matter how minuscule that growth might have been. Yuugi had been him and then Yuugi had become his world. There's no other way to explain it. As much as Atem had longed for his memories, for those people he loved and lost all those thousands of years ago, he couldn't bear the thought of losing another family. Even when the prize would be to regain his first one.

But he had to. He had thought he had to.

Yet when he was just about to take the last step, he had faltered. Had wondered - does it have to be this way? What if there's another choice he could make?

And the gods had answered him. He didn't have to beg, he didn't have to fight, he just had to ask.

Just ask.

It had been so simple, in the end, so effortless. Of course, Atem asked for that third choice - or didn't really even ask, he didn't dare, he wished for it, his heart on the verge of breaking a second time. He had been painfully aware of his friends behind him, holding their breaths, waiting for the end. Atem felt their feelings wrap around him like a cloak and he bore the weight of it, accepted it, as he couldn't quite believe that it would be that easy to stay. So he had wished.

And that wish had been granted.

And now he is here.

Standing in the middle of the floor in Yuugi's room while Yuugi sleeps, hands closed into fists, both grasping his shirt now, holding back tears that threaten to spill forth. Wondering why did he even put Yuugi through all that, when in the end, it was for nothing? Oh, he thinks, oh, how it hurts. His own shortcomings, his own pain, the pain that he had caused others. Especially the pain that he had caused Yuugi. He hadn’t deserved it, he never deserved something so cruel and insincere as Atem's decision to leave had been.

A sob wrangles itself up and out of his mouth, he's not able to stop it in time and that breaks his resolve. He sways on his feet as tears force their way out and streak his cheeks, fall into his shirt and seep into the fabric as he hiccups and tries half-heartedly to stop it. He shouldn't be crying, not after everything he’s done. He doesn’t deserve to feel so sorry for himself - he should be the one to take responsibility, to carry that burden without a hitch. But, the thing is… at this moment, he’s no longer the prince-then-pharaoh from 3000 years ago. He’s no longer the amnesiac spirit occupying the Puzzle. He’s not the King of Games.

At this moment, he’s just a 16-year-old boy who is desperately trying to deal with every responsibility he’s imagined are only his to bear and failing spectacularly. So he cries, and cries, and he can no longer see with how blurry his eyes have gone. He prays Yuugi won't wake up to it, he just has to suffer through it and he'll be fine. Crying is fine, actually. He would laugh at himself if he could - aren't tears an actual luxury, after all? He wasn't able to cry his own tears with his own body before, but now he can.

There's a hand on his shoulder and Atem's heart drops into his stomach - oh no, now he's woken up - then another on the other side, then a tug, and Atem follows blindly. He's guided back to the bed and coaxed to sit down where a warm body presses against him and he's enveloped in an embrace.

Atem finds that he can't talk, he tries to draw breath to get the words out but sobs are the only thing he can produce and finally, he hears a voice call his name. It's so soft and warm and loving that Atem somehow feels worse and buries his head into Yuugi’s shoulder, his chest heaving and he almost wails from the struggle of it.

“Shh, other me. Cry it out. It helps. I know.”

He listens to Yuugi and does just that. It’s not easy to give up the reins but with Yuugi by his side, he finds the will to allow himself to succumb. He clutches his partner's shirt, holds him and is held in return, and lets himself cry. Lets his tears come like he's never done before and faced with the force of them, he feels like there's no end to it.

But there is an end. After a period of time that feels like an eternity, his sobs subside, his tears slow down, and he feels like he can finally loosen his hold of Yuugi's shirt to let blood flow into his fingers again. His nose feels snotty and he's sure there's no dry spot left on his partner's clothes and somehow that thought makes him laugh.

“See? All better now,” Yuugi murmurs against his temple and presses his lips there. That sign of affection almost makes Atem's eyes well up but he squeezes them shut, refusing to start crying all over again. He feels drained and empty and he's pretty sure he should be ashamed. He had woken Yuugi up and made him comfort him without asking but all he can feel is gratitude. Gratitude and love and endless adoration.

“Aibou,” he sniffles, voice congested and raw. He means to thank him but his throat closes up, yet Yuugi seems to catch his meaning.

“No need,” the shorter of the two says and Atem can feel his smile against his skin, “it's okay. You're okay, we're okay, everything's okay.”

Atem wants to argue but finds no energy for it. And - as he thinks about it, he realises that Yuugi is right.

They're okay.

He wraps his arms properly around Yuugi and squeezes, sighing softly. His mind is comfortably quiet now and he presses his ear against Yuugi's chest, listening to the beat of his heart (his heart's heart?) and feeling his own fall smoothly into the same rhythm. It's natural, it's right.

“I think,” he manages to croak out, “that we need to talk.”

Yuugi holds him closer and nods before pressing his face into Atem’s hair.

“Yeah,” he replies, sounding relieved, “we sure do, other me.”

#ygo dm #yugioh #puzzleshipping #puzzlespace #puzzlejune2021 #puzzlejune #puzzlequiet #atem #yuugi #tervdraws #tervdrabbles #fanart #fanfic #this bad boy can fit so many headcanons and projection in it #i am in the possession of the crybaby beam and i'm not afraid to use it (for real though. my agenda is to Normalize Boys Crying)#(no i will not be taking criticism)

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the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon · 4 years ago

Text

• Lady Dimitrescu x female reader 💋

• Warnings: mild horror elements, kidnapping, attempted murder.

glass angel part VI.

Nightfall quickly slithered beneath the large window frames, shunning away the comfort of daylight. You’ve not moved from that little corner of the sofa even as the food grew cold whilst your stomach seemed to devour itself. Your mind was wandering on dangerous paths as you sat there alone, isolated from the familiarity of your home and people that you knew and cared for. You begun to question whether all of this was real – dark shadows crawling up the walls, eerie voices in the corridors, devilish women trying to hurt you. Even Lady Dimitrescu seemed fictitious, until you saw her sophisticatedly bending beneath the threshold as she entered the room.

Rather absent, your gaze lingered on her majestic form when she stood up to her impressive height. You could almost feel the smoothness of her dress beneath your palms, the frigid touch of her lips – sinfully so. Her very presence seemed to uproot you from your current thoughts only to bring you back to that forbidden realm of dark, erotic dreams. With awe vividly shimmering in your eyes, you feebly turned your head to watch her as she elegantly moved to sit beside you on the sofa.

“I heard you haven’t eaten a thing all day.”

She scolded in a voice so deeply alluring, each word made your heart flutter and your legs instinctively press close, as if to hide your shame. When you tried to answer her, only a hushed breath left your lips. Her tenebrous charms effortlessly enveloped you, leaving you wordless and weak.

“Do you not like the food? Should I bring you something else?”

The kindness she expressed made you feel like a fool for ever doubting her benevolence. Indeed you wanted nothing more than to return home, but how could you refuse such a lovely woman who’d done nothing but offer you shelter in such a dire time. You gently reassured her that you’ve never been treated better, and somehow, in her presence you did manage to enjoy your dinner better. Dark thoughts haunted you still and you had to bite your tongue before you’d spill nonsense to Lady Dimitrescu like you did to her poor maid. Whatever illness you’ve come down with surely must’ve been responsible for your hallucinations and… those dreams.

“… thank you.”

You meekly spoke as you pressed a napkin to the corner of your mouth. The madam’s aura was formidably strong, making you feel rather small as you burned beneath her silent, penetrative gaze. You knew she was watching you even though you had no courage to face her in that moment. Her perfume was overwhelming; strong roses reminiscent to the ones in her bedroom which made you unusually sleepy.

“I’m ever grateful for your hospitality, madam, but… I need to use a phone, please.”

You managed to murmur, coherently enough. A throbbing ache steadily begun to settle at your nape, causing you to feel faint. It was that sweet floral scent, the roses, her.

“Darling, call me Alcina…”

You felt the touch of long fingers gliding along your jaw and cupping your delicate chin to gently guide your attention upwards. Lady Dimitrescu had leaned closer, looming like a hungry wolf over your significantly smaller frame. Her eyes were like two distant stars, glowing brilliantly in the shade of the dimly-lit room. She possessed an otherworldly beauty, with a sense of danger hanging loosely around her magnificent allure. And the way she looked at you stripped you of all willpower and reason; you were hers.

“Ah-… Alcina…”

You echoed softly, freely giving into her beckoning charms. Graceful fingers combed your hair back and over your bare shoulder, revealing the flawless skin of your throat. She caressed the small bruise on your jugular with her thumb, and when your eyes met again you swore you saw a murderous hint within them. With a seductive smile, she leaned away and brought a cigarette to her perfect lips, indulging in the nicotine whilst keeping you pinned beneath her silent gaze.

“I need a doctor, or - … a phone…”

Feebly, you struggled to explain as you battled that overpowering headache which threatened to leave you bedridden for another few long days. Lady Dimitrescu watched you attentively and yet you felt as if none of your words had reached her. The haze of sleep became unbearable, but you stubbornly defied it and rubbed your eyes until they became painfully tender. Your body suddenly felt weightless, carried away by a powerful force. When the soft fabric of familiar bedsheets embraced you, you managed to peek and delightfully find the madam leaning over you. Her touch was comforting as she smoothed rebellious tresses from your fatigued countenance.

“I’ll phone a doctor for you. Now rest, sweet angel.”

She hushedly spoke.

Within moments you fell victim to a deep, dreamless slumber. At times, you felt whetted claws dancing across your chest and collarbones, tangling in your loose, velvet locks. The air in the room would suddenly become frigid cold only to abruptly heat up again, as if winter was swirling wildly around your bed. Yet nothing woke you but the pallid glow of a cloudy morning peeking through heavy curtains.

Your chest heaved with a deep breath as you slowly fluttered your lashes open, still shackled by unexplained fatigue. But as your sight begun to adjust to the sweet light of day, you noticed Lady Dimitrescu seated in front of her large vanity. She was quietly speaking on a vintage phone, scheduling a meeting with, hopefully, the doctor that she promised you the previous night. Your heavy eyelids fell closed and when you opened them again, you found yourself alone in the bedroom.

Better rested, you carefully sat up and glanced about, subconsciously looking for her. A plentiful breakfast awaited for you in the adjacent room, freshly made by the young maid who was still setting the table. You greeted her quietly, but she hurriedly finished her duties and fled the room. Without dwelling on her odd behavior, you went to run a lukewarm bath for yourself, hoping that the water would invigorate you like it did the day before. Hope clung to you as you pinched the nightgown off your shoulders and observed yourself in the mirror; the bizarre wound on your chest was healing at a miraculous pace and some warm hues had returned to your cheeks.

Perhaps you were getting better.

Relieved, you stepped into the pristine bathtub and allowed the water's healing waves to embrace you. Benevolent energies flowed through your limbs, cleansing you of weariness and unholy ailments. As you were relaxing, you thought you heard a faint, buzzing sound in the pipes. You opened your eyes, yet nothing but a pleasant, golden light was present with you in the bathroom. You concluded that the plumbing must’ve been defective, and so you sunk back until you were completely submerged in that clear water.

Fleeting thoughts and memories rushed through your blank mind. You vaguely remembered candles, visiting your grandmother, then only frost and darkness, and death. Old tombstones leered at you as graves opened up in the soft earth, ready to drag you deep into the soil. A cold shiver bolted up your spine. You grabbed onto the bathtub’s smooth edges to pull yourself up, but as soon as you opened your mouth to take a deep breath, it filled with water.

Claw-like hands were viciously wrapped around your neck, forcing you down to the bottom of the tub. Through the ripples, you could see a dark figure looming over you with a wicked, bloody grin. You struggled wildly against the grip, violently splashing bathwater on the walls as you tried to rip those hideous claws away from your burning throat. The water became a dark blur and your lungs were set ablaze – you were drowning.

- To be continued…

*part VII.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescu #countess alcina #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #vampire fanfiction #vampire #sapphic love #lesbian fanfic

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cuddlepilefics · 3 years ago

Text

Sick at Work

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Changbin

Caregivers: 2basco

Prompt @sicktember

No one's POV.:

Changbin had caught a small cold a few days ago. It wasn't really that much of a bother to him, mostly just a slightly runny nose along with a faint scratchiness in his throat. He had made sure to take hot showers every day and to stay hydrated. However, as days passed, the rapper couldn't help but feel progressively worse. When he woke up this morning, his head felt heavy with congestion and his hearing was starting to sound muffled. His head was aching from the pressure but he forced himself out of bed to join his group for their schedule. As he was slowly becoming more awake, he noticed the irritated itch in his nose that became harder to ignore by the minute. Feeling a bit chilled, Changbin decided to put on one of his thickest hoodies. Right when he pulled it over his head, the tickle in his nose became unbearable. Unable to see with clothing covering his face, he pitched forwards, sneezing. Bumping his had on the door of his closet in the process, Changbin barely managed to suppress a curse before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Getting ready, Changbin's morning routine was frequently interrupted by his urge to sneeze. He had barely been awake for half an hour, yet he had already sneezed more than he had done in the past few days. Simply running his sleeve under his nose was enough to set him off again and the rapper was starting to dread going to work today. He didn't feel sick enough to stay at the dorm but he was so annoyingly sneezy, which would be really bothering, considering that 3racha wanted to work on some stuff in the studio and recording was certainly not going to go smoothly with him sneezing every few seconds. When Changbin was ready to head out, he met Chan in the kitchen, making coffee. Changbin got himself a cup too, hoping it would clear the fog in his head a bit. "How are you feeling today?", Chan asked, taking in his dongsaeng's tired face. Changbin shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee before replying: "Let's just put it this way, you're gonna get tired of saying 'bless you' reeeaal fast." – "That bad?", the leader frowned, eyebrows knitting together in concern. The younger shook his head with a sniffle, turning aside to sneeze immediately after. "Ndo, jus' really sneezy", the rapper forced out, scrubbing at his reddening nose with the cuff of his sleeve, only triggering another sneeze. Raising his eyebrow at Changbin, Chan questioned: "Are you sure you can work through this? You know, it's always fine to take a breather when you're sick." – "I'm sure. Don't even really feel sick. My nose is just so sensitive, it's annoying", the younger pouted, so his hyung decided to drop the topic.

Not much later, Jisung joined the two and they headed to the studio together. Changbin shivered lightly on the way there as the weather had gotten colder recently and the wind was picking up. His poor nose was already raw from him constantly scrubbing at it but it seemed like the only way to satisfy the annoying tickle. By the time they made it to the studio, he had already gone through an entire travel pack of tissues and had to go to the restroom to stuff his pockets with toilet paper. "You alright? You've taken a while", Chan asked worriedly when Changbin finally joined them. The truth was, Changbin had had a bad sneezing fit while at the restroom. Since he didn't want his friends to witness that, he stayed there to wait it out, blowing his nose a few times in hopes of getting rid of the congested feeling in his sinuses before washing his hands and joining them. Changbin nodded, already bringing his sleeve up to his face again, sniffling: "I-I'm fine, jus – jus' needed to h-hESSH! Huh - hEGSHU! Just needed to sneeze and blow by ndose." The other two blessed him and nodded in understanding before starting to work on some lyrics.

While Chan and Jisung seemed to be having a good time, really getting some lyrics down, Changbin was struggling. He couldn't focus on anything really. To him it seemed like his head was filled with cotton, making it impossible to grasp a solid thought. It also didn't help that he kept turning away to sneeze, which resulted in him being distracted from what he was doing again. The only thing that he remained aware of the entire time was his itchy nose and how painfully raw the skin around it had become. Chan had offered him a few more times to go home and rest but Changbin kept resisting. He wasn't that sick, right? Soon they had enough lyrics to start recording and the leader started to set up the microphone, while Changbin was beyond frustrated with himself. Neither had he been able to come up with any useful lyrics, nor would he be able to really record anything because his voice sounded so pathetically stuffy. Jisung would probably be the one recording the lines, while Chan went straight to editing them. Changbin was left to give the younger advice but other than that, all he could do was beat himself up for not really contributing anything to their work. That didn't mean he'd go home though.

Jisung was just about to start recording the first line, when Changbin held up his hand, signaling for him to wait. The younger looked at him curiously, watching his hyung's eyes flutter shut, mouth hanging slightly agape. "I-I nh-heed to sneeze", Changbin panted, breath hitching uncontrollably. "Yeah, I think the whole world knows that by now", Jisung teased. Eyes watering, the older twisted to the side roughly: "hESH! KGSH! N'gsCH! *sniff* sorry." – "Bless you", Chan sighed, studying his dongsaeng's face to figure out if it was safe for Jisung to start recording now. They went ahead with their recording but it was a slow process, frequently interrupted by Changbin's sneezes. Though it was disturbing their work, Chan and Jisung were mainly just worried for their friend. He couldn't possibly feel alright while sneezing that much. His nose was bright pink by now and his face looked blank and tired, almost as though he was asleep in his chair but his eyes were open, indicating that the rapper was indeed awake. Though his eyes were open, they looked distant, holding a sickly gloss. Changbin didn't look well at all but he had refused to go home earlier.

Changbin himself was mainly frustrated. Sure, he felt miserable but overall, he was frustrated with himself. He wasn't contributing anything to their work as a group, instead holding his friends back with his frequent sniffles. Going home didn't seem like an option though. He wasn't that sick and certainly wouldn't milk a cold just to get out of work. "Bin, seriously, just go home. You can't tell me you feel well because your sneezing is contradicting that", Chan sighed, turning away from his laptop. Jisung agreed: "You look awful and tired. Please get some rest." Changbin bit his lip, feeling guilty for holding his friends back. He was convinced they were annoyed at him at this point and he couldn't blame them but it still hurt him that they were trying to get rid of him. "Yah! Stop bossing me around!", he snapped, his eyes going unfocused immediately after before he turned to the side to sneeze. The other two were taken aback at their friend's sudden outburst. His face showed clear anger, the watery look in his eyes the only thing that kept him from being intimidating. He had been rather harsh when telling them off earlier too. Whenever they'd tell him to take a break, his demeanor would suddenly turn cold.

"Alright, I won't be telling you what to do anymore. You're an adult, decide for yourself. Make yourself miserable, I don't care", Chan stated coldly. He and Jisung then continued working, barely paying attention to Changbin. "Aish, we've been working for a while already. We should really eat something, shouldn't we?", the leader contemplated. He and Jisung then started a longer discussion about food, Changbin however was barely listening to them. He was trying to hold back his tears, his hyung's words having stung more than he wanted to admit. He couldn't even tell why his emotions were so all over the place today. The next thing he knew was Jisung leaving the studio. "Where's he going?", he muttered confused, squinting after the younger with watering eyes. Keeping his face clear of any emotion, Chan turned to him and replied: "If you had listened, you'd know that Sungie's getting us snacks." Mainly, Chan wanted to be alone with his dongsaneg for a moment, hoping the boy would crack and admit what was going on. He also had a plan in case that didn't work. Going on his phone, he texted Jisung instructions for when he returned. He wanted the younger to sneak up to Changbin from behind and feel his forehead. Him running a fever would be the only logical explanation for his temper Chan could give.

Heading out, Jisung went to the closest convenient store and raided the snack aisle. He felt his phone buzz and read Chan's message, nodding to himself as he had already had a similar suspicion. Changbin wasn't usually that easy to anger, so it would only make sense. Remembering his hyung's irritated pink nose, Jisung also decided to pick up some tissues. He hoped they'd be a bit gentler on Changbin's raw skin than the toilet paper he had been using over the past few hours. Jisung was quick to check out but tried to take his time walking back. Maybe Chan was talking Changbin into going home and he didn't want to interrupt and have their friend pull his guards back up. What he didn't know was that Chan was very far from talking Changbin into anything. He had given his dongsaeng the chance to tell him what was wrong multiple times already and now waited for Changbin to take the opportunity and speak up. That didn't happen though, so the Aussie really relied on Jisung and the back-up to his plan to work out. He heard the door open quietly but Changbin was too out of it to really pay attention to anything. To top that off, his hearing had become even more muffled from the congestion in his head, so he didn't hear Jisung slowly walking up behind him. Then there was suddenly a light, cool touch on his forehead and Changbin couldn't help but sigh in relief as it soothed the headache he had had all day. "Your skin's as hot as your temper", Jisung commented before removing his hand and plopping into his seat. Changbin didn't react to that at all, not even able to process what his dongsaeng had said.

When there was no reaction, Chan turned his chair to him and gave the younger a soft look, frowning: "You heard Jisung? You're running a fever." – "Oh", was all Changbin had to say to that. "Come on, mate. I can understand that you're frustrated but we're not bossing you around to be mean. We're genuinely worried 'bout you and your temperature is only more reason for us to take you home", the leader said with a comforting smile. That was what finally cracked Changbin. Soon the first tear rolled, then the next. Sniffling quietly, he pulled his sleeve over his hand to dry them but brushed against his nose in the process. "KGSH! h-hGSHHU! *sniff*" Trying to clean himself up, he pulled out some more crumpled toilet paper but Jisung was quick to hand him a tissue. "You're really not feeling yourself today, huh? Is that why you were so worked up?", Chan asked calmly, resting his hand on Changbin's shoulder. The younger nodded, rasping: "I'b sorry. It was so frustrati'g because I couldn't focus a'd was just so useless. Didn't thigk it was that bad." – "It's alright, but why don't you try talking to us next time?", Jisung smiled, brushing the older's hair back and holding his water bottle up to Changbin's forehead, since he had obviously enjoyed the cool touch earlier. While Changbin closed his eyes and relaxed, Chan was already shutting his laptop off and packing their things up. When everything was ready for them to leave, the leader patted Changbin's arm, humming: "Let's get you home. I bet a hot shower and an early bedtime sound nice right now." – "Really dice", the younger agreed, allowing Chan and Jisung to pull him up and take him home.

#fanfic #fluff #stray kids #skz #sickfic #fanfiction #sicktember2021 #snz #comfort #3racha #sick

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 3

chapter 1 chapter 2

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, and other warnings to be added

This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A close call has you on the move.

Note: Alright, things are ramping up. As always, mind the warnings and take care of yourselves.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

A third glass of wine helped you sleep better than you had in the last week. You didn’t remember much past the bottom of the glass; only the fear and the way it burned your throat. You didn’t remember falling asleep or even going to your bed.

Slowly, as if drowning in oil, you woke. One eye opened, then the other. Your head pounded as the grey winter light peeked in. You groaned and a sudden crash made you shoot up in your bed. The duvet fell away from your chest as you listened to the grunting and the footsteps barreling across the floor. You were dizzy as your heart raced.

You kicked out from under the covers and stumbled frantically to the bedroom door. You peered out into the living room, the dark figure at the open door. Bucky braced himself against the frame and swore. He looked as if he would bolt out until his eyes settled on you.

He gritted his teeth and pushed himself straight. He closed the door and locked it firmly. He shook his head and crossed to you.

“I didn’t mean to wake you--”

“What’s going on?” You looked around. The coffee table was overturned, the lamp too, and pillow leaked its innards onto the floor. “What was that? What happened?”

“It’s okay, I think I got him much worse,” Bucky assured you.

You noticed for the first time the knife in his hand. The same black handle that he holstered on his belt. You blanched as your eyes scaled his torso and the dark blood spread across his grey tee shirt.

“Did you?” You asked as you backed away. “Oh my, that’s a lot of blood.” You touched your stomach, still sensitive from the night before and roused by the sight of red. “Are you okay?”

He looked down and touched along his ribs. He hissed and carefully set down his knife on the arm of the couch. “Shit.” He pulled open the slice in the cotton and chuckled. “Fucker got me good.”

“How can you laugh?” You gasped. “What do you mean-- Was it him? Was he in here?”

“Yeah and so was I,” Bucky raised the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. “I took care of him.”

“He got away,” you looked at the door. “He got in! How could he--”

“Well, I assumed it was easier in a carrier’s uniform,” Bucky bunched up his shirt and stemmed the blood with it. His thick arms tensed and his broad chest puffed out. “But… I think I got a decent peek at his face.”

He went to the lamp and pulled it up. You watched him stunned. How could he be so casual? Your eyes fell to a trail of blood that led to the door and was smeared across the side of the coffee table.

“I told you, I got him worse,” Bucky said as he looked at you. “You got some bandages, or something?”

He sat heavily and leaned back as he looked under the tee shirt. You blinked and nodded dumbly. You recalled the video call the night before; the woman’s blood pouring from her throat, bubbling along her lips. You went to the bathroom and searched beneath the sink for the first aid kit you’d never even opened.

You came back out and unclasped the metal box. You set it on the corner of the couch and bent to flip the coffee table. Bucky stopped you. “Leave it. It’s got evidence on it.”

You stood and stared at him as he took the first aid kit and balanced it on his thigh. He stirred around with one hand and pulled out the bottle of alcohol. He pressed down on the tee before removing it and sprayed the gash. You slumped onto the couch and tried not to look. You had never done well with the sight of blood. There was so much, you could smell it even.

“Shit,” he uttered, “I think I’m gonna need some help.”

You looked up again and he pulled out a spool and a packaged needle. You’d never thought you’d need those.

“I can’t-- Blood, it makes me… sick,” you murmured. “I don’t know--”

“Well, I can’t exactly see well enough to do it myself,” he grunted. “Honey, it’s fine. It’s nothing serious but it needs stitching.”

You squinted at the pet name. The more he said it, the more odd it seemed. You weren’t his honey, you were a job.

You sniffed and neared him. Your hand shook as he ripped open the packet and threaded the needle. You took it from him as he held it out. You stared at the metal point then glanced at him.

“I’ve never…”

“Have you ever sewn? A cross-stitch maybe?” He asked.

“I took home econ in high school but that was… a long time ago,” you swallowed. “What if I make it worse?”

“It’s just like a tear in a pair of pants. That’s all. Don’t think about it. Just--” He gripped the tee shirt tightly, “Do it.”

He lowered the cotton and bared the cut again. Your lashes fluttered and you let out a long breath. You got closer and bent over him. You hesitantly touched the flesh along the cut and pointed the needle along it. You bit down as you poked his skin.

“Come on,” he rasped, “We got a lot more to do.”

You pushed the needle’s nose through his flesh and your stomach flipped. You held your breath as you pulled the threaded through and repeated the action, again and again. His blood stained your fingertips and when you reached the end, he stilled your hand and took the needle from you. He looked down as he knotted the tail and you barely kept from tripping over the coffee table as you retreated.

“Go. Pack a bag,” He pushed himself to his feet as he tossed the thread in the kit and slid the needle back into the plastic. “I’ve gotta make a call. I doubt they’ll let you stay here any longer.”

“Where will I go?” You asked as you rubbed your fingertips, still wet with his blood.

“Somewhere safe. I promise.” He said as he wiped his hands on his tee shirt. He looked around and bent to retrieve his phone from beside the tv stand. “But right now, we don’t have time for all the questions.”

You just nodded as he dialed and retreated to wash your hands.

As your adrenaline slaked away, your hangover became more apparent. Not only your head, but your entire body ached. Had it been worth fleeting moments of oblivion?

You went to your bedroom and dug around the closet for the wrinkled old duffel bag. It felt hopeless; futile. Even with Bucky there, that monster had almost gotten to you. Was there anywhere he could keep you safe?

You shoved some clothes in the bag and went to the bathroom to grab your toothbrush and other toiletries. You heard Bucky talking and the distant voice buzzing from the speaker.

“We need somewhere more secure. I understand, I didn’t expect it so soon but… well, he knows now. He’s going to be even more desperate…”

You zipped up the duffel and marched out to the living room. You plopped it on the floor and crossed your arms. Bucky hung up as he turned to you, dropping his fingers from the blinds he’d been peeking through.

“You said he would hide for a bit,” you said. “But… why is he doing all this?”

“We’re just going of the BSU assessment. They can be wrong. They can draw up a whole profile but it’s almost impossible to predict what these types do next. We went off similar cases, similar circumstances. But like I said, this isn’t our typical suspect.”

“Uh huh, and yet you won’t tell me how. And he’s dangerous enough to almost get past you--”

“Not even close,” Bucky insisted. “Honey, come on. I do this all the time. You have no idea what the fuck we’re dealing with so stop it with the questions and go get changed. Back up’s on the way.”

You flinched at his tone. You huffed and shook your head. You went back to the bedroom and pulled out some jeans and a long-sleeve sweatshirt. You really didn’t care what you looked like.

When you entered the living room again, Bucky dropped your bag closer to the door. You crossed your arms as he took his hoodie from over the back of the couch and zipped it up over his bare torso. You grabbed your phone from the shelf where it was charging and he was on you in an instant. His hand covered yours, the metal cold and hard.

“You have to leave it,” he said. “We can’t compromise our new position.”

“What? But--”

“What do you think is going on right now? Life as you know it is over. No more phone,” he yanked the cell from your grasp, “No more apartment, no more work.” You grimaced and held up your phone. He squeezed until you heard it crack and it bent in his metal grip. “You got to trust me.”

“What the fuck? You didn’t have to do that.” You stared at your broken phone as he dropped it back on the shelf.

“Honey, you gotta start listening to me. Fuck around and I can’t protect you.”

Your lip twitched. Honey, honey, honey. That wasn’t your name. You shrugged and spun away from him.

“When are we going?” You asked.

“Soon,” Bucky said, “Get your coat, your shoes. I’m just waiting for the call.”

You brushed by him and pulled on your boots, ignoring your heels. You grabbed your jacket and you heard a soft vibe. Bucky reached over your shoulder as he took his own coat and stepped into his own boots. He exhaled as he checked his phone.

“Alright, let’s go. Back door.” He directed as he turned the lock, “Come on.”

He opened the door and grabbed your duffel. He waved you into the hall and locked the door behind him with one hand. He tucked away his key and nudged you onward. Only the stomp of your boots sounded as you hurried down the stairwell and he pushed by you to open the heavy door.

He ushered you out into the early morning chill and caught your elbow as he followed you. He urged you across the parking lot to a black car with tinted windows just at the edge of the tarmac. He opened the back door and tossed our bag inside.

“Get in,” he said as he looked around. “Now.”

You ducked through the door and Bucky climbed in the passenger seat. You blinked as you caught a glimpse of the driver in the rearview. Then he turned to nod at Bucky and you recognized him. Steve Rogers greeted his old friend with a quiet ‘hey’.

“Go,” Bucky demanded.

“No introductions?” Steve put the car in gear and pulled past the rows of cars.

“This is Steve,” Bucky said sharply as he looked back at you, “I know you’ve read the case file. You already know her.”

“Where are we going?” You asked softly as you leaned on the duffel.

“Safe house. About two hours out,” Steve answered before Bucky could. “You’ll be safe there.”

You chewed your lip. Well, surely two was better than one and yet Captain America’s presence was hardly reassuring. That just confirmed to you how fucked this whole situation was.

“Fury didn’t like the last minute notice but he understood,” Steve said to Bucky.

“Mmm, we can talk about it later.” Bucky grumbled. “Honey, why don’t you get some more sleep. It’s gonna be a long ride.”

Steve peeked at you in the mirror as he turned out of the parking lot. He glanced at Bucky next but stayed quiet as his eyes returned to the road.

“Take your own advice, Buck,” Steve snickered. “You both look like you need it.”

👁️

You didn’t sleep. You couldn’t. A mixture of anxiety and the shadow of alcohol kept you awake. Even so, you closed your eyes and kept quiet in the backseat. The motion of the road lulled you and helped ease your headache. Few words passed between the men up front.

When you did open your eyes, tall trees passed you by and lined the winding road ahead. You were well out of the city but couldn't guess where. Maybe you should have paid attention. Or not. It was better to be far away, to lose yourself in hopes your stalker would as well.

The cabin was nothing special. It looked like any other retreat away from the world. Deep in the heart of the forest, it felt an entirely different world. As Steve killed the engine, you sat up and unbuckled your seat belt. You slid out of the backseat with your bag in hand as Bucky went to the trunk and pulled out a bag of his own. Steve did the same and checked the time on his watch.

You followed Steve as Bucky stayed to your rear. You didn't miss his hand on his knife or the way he looked around. Up the steps, you wait as Steve pressed his hand over the sign that said “home sweet home" and the door clicked. He nudged the door open with his foot and let you in. Bucky closed the door and the latch whirred loudly back into place.

Steve turned and opened a panel beside the door. He pressed a finger against the screen and quickly typed in several codes. A sudden lurch and the shudders rose on their own; metal slats folding and rolling up in unison. The lights all flicked on at once and the growl of a generator rose from below.

"Windows are bulletproof. There's no way in or out without one of us," Steve pointed between himself and Bucky, "And most assuredly, you have two super soldiers watching your back."

"Mmhmm," you muttered as you looked around. "Well, I think it's bad enough I even need two."

"Well better than none," Bucky said. "Steve, you can show her around. I need to call HQ, give a description of this guy before it's too far gone."

"Sure," Steve said and waved Bucky off. He turned to you as he unzipped his coat. "Not sure why he's asking me. I've never been to this one before."

"How long will I be here?" You asked as you took of your jacket and he took it from you to hang it over his own.

"Well," he leaned on the wall as he removed his boots, "I hope not too long. If Bucky got a good look at this guy, no more than a week or two. "

"So… you know… everything?"

"I've caught up," he said, "Not gonna lie, it's… intense but you shouldn't worry. Me and Bucky, we've never had a mission we couldn't handle."

"Guess it's better than being on my own," you said. "I just… why me?"

He tucked his hands in his pocket and looked at you. "Well, from what I know, these types rarely have logical reasoning. You can't blame yourself." He shifted his weight on his feet, "Hey," he pointed behind you to the next room, "A woodstove. How about that?"

👁️

When Steve finished the tour, or rather aimless wandering, of the safe house, he let you pick a room. There were several and you didn’t give much thought to your choice. You just wanted somewhere to relax. It was barely after noon and already it felt like the day had dragged on. After such a terrifying night, you had been thoroughly unprepared for the startling reality of the day.

He left you to seemingly ordinary room. A double bed, plaid duvet, chestnut night tables and a matching dresser. A carpet woven in the Navajo fashion was sprawled across the floor and a small desk looked out the window. A portrait of pine and maple seemed to mirror the view on the opposite wall and added to the cabin’s cozy allure.

You placed your duffel atop the dresser and slid open one drawer at a time as you unpacked your hastily collected attire. Two pairs of jeans, a pair of pajamas, a pair of loose shorts, socks, several shirts with vary styles and sleeve lengths, a second bra, and your scramble of toiletries. The only thing that was missing were your underwear. You swore you had grabbed those first as they lined your top drawer but they were no where to be found in your mess.

You could’ve overlooked them. Easily. You were so rattled, so hollow, so suffocated by terror that you couldn’t think of much but the smell of blood and the voice that grew clearer and clear in your mind.

Your head continued to pulse with the dregs of your previous night’s excess and the bile boiled in your stomach. You sat on the bed and held your head. You took a breath, restless despite your fatigue, and sighed. You hadn’t done anything and yet it felt as if you had dug yourself into the hole. As if no matter what you did, the pit got deeper and deeper and soon the dirt would start to pile in on you.

You shook off your despair and stood so quickly you stumbled. You needed to just stop. You needed to breathe; calm down. As blunt as Bucky could be, he was often right. You had him and Steve looking out for you.

You peeked out into the hallway and listened. You heard the two men talking but they were not close enough to decipher their words. You stepped out and crossed to the washroom just opposite your room. You locked yourself in and searched the cupboard for a towel. There were at least a dozen to your surprise and you hung one over the bar before you twisted the faucet on.

Anything to wash away your hangover. To cleanse you of the constant dread of your existence. A couple minutes under a hot shower to forget. A few moment for yourself. To just be.

You undressed and winced as the peculiar pain between your legs. You’d felt tender for much of the day and assumed maybe the stress was bringing on an early period. No blood, however. You felt grimy as you peeled off your layers and stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked as worn out as you felt.

You slipped past the curtain and welcomed the sheer heat of the downpour. You let it wash over you, let the steam smother you, let the rivulets slake over you and swirl down the drain. It was second, minutes, hours, eons… you could not tell.

You were sleepy as you turned off the tap. You wrapped yourself in the fluffy white towel and gather your clothes. There wasn’t much for you to do here; Steve had said as much. You stepped out into the hall and were startled by the figure in your bedroom door. Bucky turned to face you. His eyes flicked down for just a moment as you clutched your towel.

“I knocked,” he said. “I didn’t realise--”

“It’s fine. What do you need?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“As good as I can be,” the warmth seeped from you as the air nipped at your bare skin, “Thanks.”

“Good, good,” he nodded and smiled awkwardly. “I have a favour to ask you.”

“A favour?” You hugged your clothes in one arm as you kept your distance.

“Well, we only have rations really in the cupboards. Not very good. Vacuum sealed and bland. So thought maybe you could make a list and me and Steve could take care of that tomorrow.” He explained. “And anything else you need. Shampoo, toothpaste, whatever…”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you pressed your lips together. “You mind if I, uh, get dressed then get back to you?”

“Y-yeah,” he seemed to realise he was blocking your door, “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be downstairs. We’re just going over some evidence.”

“Alright,” you sidled past him. “I’ll be down soon.”

You quickly closed your door and leaned against it. You listened through the thick wood. You heard a soft tap and the drag of something against the other side. A whisper you could not discern before his footsteps finally retreated. Odd but perhaps you were only hearing things. Paranoia could make the tallest tales seem true.

You dressed, mournful of your forgotten underwear, and made your way downstairs. Bucky sat with his back to you as you entered the dining room, a chandelier with fake candles hung from the ceiling and cast hazy shadows along the walls. Steve sat to his left and slid over a piece of paper.

Both heard you enter and looked over at you; Steve smiled, Bucky stared pensively.

“I can make that list now,” you neared as you hugged yourself. “It’s chilly in here.”

“Oh…” Steve looked down then scoffed, “Yeah, afraid we’re not so sensitive to it. We tend to forget.” He stood and stretched his arms. “I’ll go figure out the furnace.”

“So, have you--” Your voice caught in your throat as you neared. You caught sight of the frantic scribbles, the smeared led across the paper. Bucky tried to sweep the sheet into a folder but you stopped him as Steve froze behind his chair. “What is that?”

He didn’t need to tell you. It was a drawing of you, crude but discernible. You were bound and naked, legs wide and there was blood smeared down your chest. You gaped at the sketch and shook your head. Bucky stood slowly.

“He did this?” You rasped. “How many-- how many of these has he done?”

“It’s confidential,” Bucky snatched the paper and placed it in the folder. “You shouldn’t be looking at all this.”

“After last night? After he broke into my apartment this morning?! What am I supposed to do? How can I do anything if I know nothing?”

“We are taking care of it,” Bucky grabbed your shoulders. “So you just be a good girl and let us.”

“I can’t do nothing! Please, do you have any idea what it’s like? All I can think of is this-- this monster and everything he’s done. What he’s gonna do to me.” You latched onto his wrists and tried to pull him away. “I almost just wish he’d have it done with.”

Bucky growled and Steve warned him with a hum. He dropped his hands and backed away from you. He stacked up the folders and looked at Steve.

“Take her back to her room before you deal with the heat,” Bucky said. “Lock her in if you have to.”

“What? You can’t--”

“Honey, I can do whatever I want to keep you safe,” he pointed a finger in your face. “I have the clearance.”

You snorted and glanced at Steve. He gave a pitiful look in return. He motioned to the doorway as he raised his brows in exasperation. You didn’t look at Bucky again as you turned and stormed out ahead of Steve. As he caught up to you at the bottom of the stairs, he kept his voice low.

“I won’t lock you in,” he said, “Just don’t push him. He just needs time.”

“He needs time?” You scoffed.

“Look, he told me what happened this morning. He’s not the type to be left bleeding like that.” Steve explained, “And he really does want to keep you safe.”

433 notes · View notes

imlovethomassanders · 4 years ago

Text

Eyes are the Windows to the Soul(mates) - Chapter 3

You can also read on ao3

Once again, huge thanks to @strongindependentcheesecake for beta reading

This work is complete, and new chapters will be added everyday until completion:

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 (FINAL)

Summary: The lucky few who have a soulmate are born with heterochromia, with their left eye being the color of their soulmate’s eyes and their right eye being their own color. Not only was Virgil one of the lucky few to have a soulmate, but he was given four. His left eye changed colors every time he blinked, rotating between his four soulmates’ eye colors. His rotating eye colors caused him to be a bit of an outcast growing up, but when he finally leaves for college, things start to fall into place. This is the journey of five strangers finding each other.

Pairings: DLAMP with background Remile

Warnings: None I believe

Words: 4631

Taglist: @touchstarvedvirgil @lamp-calm-sanders @ninjago2020 @confinesofpersonalknowledge @secret-novelisthost18 @phander-sides @sherlock-lives-on-bakerstreet @bookbingingproblem @viana-dascolli @sharktryingtofly @crofters-n-falsehoods @turnedthefreakingfrogsgay @little-kat07

The rest of the summer Virgil kept up with Patton and Logan in a group chat Patton made. Patton would regularly send Virgil selfies of him and Logan together. And while Virgil was always filled with a warm happiness upon seeing them together, he couldn't ignore the bitter pang of loneliness.

As the start of their junior year drew nearer, Logan went back to his apartment. With the three of them all in separate locations, they would have regular skype calls that would usually last hours longer than planned (they'd only end once Logan was insistent they go to bed).

Logan sighed after he hung up the skype call. Virgil and Patton were comfortably back in their dorm and were cuddling on one of their beds as they talked with him. Logan didn't mind watching them show affection for each other (he actually enjoyed it, though he'd never admit it out loud), but he was starting to feel the bitter truths of the isolation he built for himself. He hadn't bothered to try and make any friends during his time at college. He told himself he wanted to focus on studies. He was okay, better even, on his own. But then he ran into Patton and Virgil, and he felt more alone than ever.

He got up from his desk and went to the kitchen to refill his water bottle before heading to bed.

'Hiya, Logan," his roommate Emile said from the couch. "How are Patton and Virgil?"

"They're doing well."

Emile was studying to be a therapist at the same university and had answered Logan's roommate ad. Logan had started off rather distant, engaging in small talk but never bothering to try and get to know him. It wasn't that Emile wasn't a good roommate - he was as good a roommate you could ask for. Always paid his share of rent on time, never made a huge mess, did his share of chores - but Logan just always claimed to be too busy to let himself get "distracted." But since Logan met Patton and Virgil, he decided to make more of an effort to get to know Emile, much to Emile's delight.

"What are you watching?" Logan asked as he glanced towards the TV.

Emile's dual-colored eyes lit up. That was a big reason Logan chose him as a roommate. He also was one of the few with a soulmate. "Steven Universe. Have you heard of it? It's about this kid named Steven-"

Logan listened as he waited for his water bottle to fill up. He had heard of Steven Universe, though he never bothered to look at it before. Patton had talked about it, saying he wanted the three of them to watch it together sometime. Maybe he should try and introduce Patton to Emile. The two would probably get along well-

"Logan?" Emile asked, snapping Logan from his thoughts.

"Sorry," Logan said as he twisted the cap back onto his water bottle. "I just got lost in thought.

Emile gave him a soft smile as Logan started to head back towards his bedroom. "You miss them?"

Logan paused. Well, of course he missed them a bit. They were soulmates. But in actuality, did he miss them that much? To the point of it hurting? To the point of it affecting his mood? When he was with them, they never got past hand holding, never said anything "lovey-dovey" past sending the occasional heart emoji. And even that was sometimes overwhelming. Was he ready to admit how much he actually liked them?

Logan shook his head. "Goodnight, Emile."

"Goodnight, Logan."

After quickly getting ready, Logan got into bed. He turned over to switch off his bedside lamp, ignoring the buzz of his text alert.

Logan woke up to good morning texts from Patton and Virgil. He responded with "Good morning." before pushing himself up to get coffee and prepare for school.

His day went on as normal, which he appreciated. On his way to his first afternoon class, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket but he ignored it. He could always read the text when class was over.

He sat down in the front row and pulled out his laptop. He tried to ignore the growing volume of people coming in and sitting around him.

Class went as it usually did, Logan asking too many questions to where the professor got annoyed and his classmates rolled their eyes. The teachers especially didn't like it when they didn't have answers.

Logan couldn't help he was smarter than them.

Class ended before Logan could ask his last question. He huffed in annoyance and started to pack his bag when his pen rolled off his desk. Before he could reach down for it, someone else had already grabbed it for him.

"You really gave the teach a run for her money, huh?" the stranger teased as he handed Logan his pen.

Logan vaguely recognized the stranger. He was the guy who was always on the posters all around campus for the theatre productions.

"Thank you," Logan said. He looked at the stranger's face and froze. His right eye was a deep brown and his left was a light green.

He couldn't be, could he? There was the possibility that the man in front of him only had one soulmate who's eyes also happened to be green or-

The man blinked and his left eye turned from Patton's green to Virgil's gray.

He was Logan's soulmate.

Logan watched as his soulmate's eyes widened and a large smile graced his face.

"Roman," he said in a breathless voice.

"Logan."

Dear God, why now? He was still trying to figure out his feelings towards Patton and Virgil, and now the universe wanted to introduce him to another?

"This is amazing!" Roman exclaimed as Logan finally stood from his desk. "I've been waiting to meet one of you for such a long time! Let me take out to-"

"I have another class in fifteen minutes," Logan interrupted. Roman's smile faltered a bit, and Logan felt a bit guilty but pushed that aside immediately. His studies came before anything. Classes - Logan understood those.

"But we're soulmates! This is the first time I've met one of you. Surely we can miss one class"

"No," Logan said. "I'll see you in class Thursday."

A disappointed look fell on Roman's face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Logan started heading towards the door before he could. Roman scrambled to get his backpack together to follow him.

"Wait!" Logan didn't stop walking. "Wait!"

Logan jerked back as Roman grabbed his shoulder.

"I've dreamed about this moment for as long as I can remember!" Roman pleaded. "Logan, we're soulmates. We're made for each other-"

"We can always talk later-"

"Why wait??" Roman asked as he reached for Logan's hand, but Logan jerked it back. "Why not take full advantage of the time we're given?"

"I need to go," Logan said adamantly. Roman opened his mouth to object and Logan sighed and pulled out his phone. "If I get out of class early I'll text you."

Roman eagerly took Logan's phone and punched his number in. As soon as Logan had his phone back he turned and started heading towards his next building.

Logan wished Patton was the one to meet Roman. Patton would have been a much better match for Roman. He would know how to react and what to do. Logan sighed as he walked into the building, hoping for a long and boring class.

Of course not.

Of course today was a day the professor decided to let them out early. Logan's mind raced as he tried to think of anything else he could work on.

He was all caught up on his homework - ahead, even. He had all the terms he needed to memorize memorized and had already created all the study flashcards he needed. He had read all the book chapters that needed to be read and had already highlighted everything important. He had no future tests or quizzes to study for nor did he have any extra credit options to due as he had already completed them.

Dammit, why did he have to be so diligent at school work??

The thought of not telling Roman he was out of class flashed through his mind, but that thought made him uneasy. While he was not the keenest on other people's emotions, he was no liar. Besides, Roman was his soulmate. At the very least, he deserved a chance to speak with him.

The campus coffee shop was nearby, so he texted Roman that if he was out of class to meet him there. He ordered his coffee (black, of course) and sat down in a secluded seat by a window. It was fairly crowded, and this was the one instance Logan was grateful for that.

Very shortly after Logan sat down, Roman walked in and eagerly looked for him, beaming once he saw him. He sat down in front of Logan and flashed another cocky smile.

"Hello," Roman said. "I am very glad I get to see you again."

"Hello. Did you not have class?" Logan asked as he put his drink down. "If you did, it was very convenient you were dismissed early as well."

"Actually, I just left," Roman grinned.

"You were dismissed just a few minutes ago?"

"Well, no. I got your text so I just got up and left."

"In the middle of-"

"In the middle of the lecture, yeah."

"...Okay, then," Logan said after a couple tense moments of silence.

"I want to know all about you. How old are you? What year are you in? Did you grow up around here? What are you-"

"I'm twenty-one and a senior," Logan interrupted before he could get barraged with more questions. "And I was not raised here. I grew up out of state."

"...What about yourself?" Logan added onto the end. It was polite to ask others about themselves as well, right? Besides, he needed to get to know his soulmate, right?

God he hated this.

"I'm nineteen and a sophomore," Roman said as he relaxed back in his chair. "And I grew up in a small town not too far from here. "God, I hated it."

"So... you've met two others?" Roman then asked, voice laced with hope.

"I met them this summer."

"So they were already together?"

"Yes."

Sadness flashed over Roman's face for a split second but was quickly disguised again by Roman's large grin.

"Could you tell me about them?"

"Their names are Patton and Virgil. Patton's the green, Virgil's the gray," Logan said as he picked up his coffee again, wanting to avoid the soft gaze Roman had on his face. "They're both juniors and twenty, though Patton is older than Virgil by three months. They're art majors but Virgil has a minor in creative writing and Patton has been looking into dual majoring in psychology. They both live and go to a university out of state."

"Could you introduce me to them?"

"I'll tell them I met you tonight and see if they'd prefer video call or in person."

Roman nodded.

"Back to you," Roman said as he managed to catch Logan's eye. "What are you majoring in?"

"I am majoring in chemical engineering, with a minor in education so that I may teach one day if I so choose."

As Logan talked, Roman rested his head on his hand and smiled at Logan in such an admiring way it almost made Logan uncomfortable. Those looks were for Patton and Virgil only, who he already knew to a degree. How could Roman look at Logan with such eyes when they had met not two hours ago?

"Yourself?" Logan asked.

"I'm majoring in musical theatre with a minor in theatrical costuming, but I also persuaded the chorus professor to give me voice lessons that are usually reserved only for voice majors," Roman said with a proud grin.

"Hm," Logan huffed, though immediately regretted it.

When Logan met Patton and Virgil and learned they were both art majors, he was a bit disappointed he couldn't talk to them about the sciences, but it didn't bother him too much since at least he had two other soulmates who could share his passion for math and science.

But now his third one is a theatre major, leaving only one. Logan was running out of options.

"...What does 'hm' mean?" Roman asked defensively, straightening his back as he examined Logan's face.

"It's nothing. I shouldn't have said it."

"It's clearly something."

"I just... I can't understand why you would spend your time and money in higher education only to indulge in over-glorified make believe," Logan said incredulously, completely aware of how rude he sounded but not being able to help himself.

"I wouldn't put it like that," Roman said defensively. "I don't think you're aware of how much hard work one has to do to refine one's acting abilities-"

"One's higher education is one of the most important and deciding times of one's life," Logan interrupted. "And you're here studying theatre and skipping classes."

"I bailed so I could see my soulmate," Roman said, voice rising in volume. Logan glanced at the people around them. "Perhaps you're taking college a bit too seriously! Yes, and education is important, but college is also the time to have fun and discover yourself!"

People were staring at them.

"If you are just going to yell, I am going to take my leave," Logan said as he grabbed his bag. Roman's eyes widened as he stood with Logan and went to say something but Logan didn't let him speak. "I will see you in class. Goodbye, Roman."

"Really!?" Roman shouted after him. Now everyone was staring. "When I imagined my soulmates, the ones made for me, I always imagined someone who I can share my passions with. But are you really so impersonal you'd abandon your own soulmate? Is school really all you care about!?"

"Goodbye, Roman."

And Logan left.

Logan fell back onto his bed and groaned into his hands. God, why did he have to be so bad at interacting with others? Why did he have to be so bad at understanding emotions that he could neither understand his own or read others? Why did he have to have no filter between his brain and his mouth?

He heard his phone buzz and he groaned again. He knew who it was.

Patton: Me and Virgil are ready to video chat when you are <3 <3

Logan had to stop himself from correcting him to "Virgil and I."

He bit his lip as his thumb hovered over his phone keyboard before quickly typing out a message.

Logan: I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit sick tonight. I think I'll just go to bed early, but I'll talk to you soon. Patton: Oh, I'm sorry! :( I hope you feel better soon <3 <3 <3 Virgil: take care, logan Virgil: <3

He couldn't let them see him. He hadn't had the courage to look, but he knew his left eye was just light brown now. Once Patton and Virgil noticed his eye no longer changed color, he'd have to tell them about Roman and what a disaster that was.

He did go to bed early that night, exhausted from all the emotional turmoil from the day. He wasn't looking forward to Thursday.

As much as Logan wished the Earth would have been engulfed by the sun before Thursday, that wasn't due for another billion years, so Logan had to go to class.

He got there early and sat in his seat in the front row. He pulled his laptop out of his backpack and stared at it, not being able to comprehend anything on the screen.

Other students started trailing in to their usual seats, though Logan' refused to look at any of them. But when someone in red walked past him, he knew it was Roman. He recognized the cologne.

When the class finally ended, Logan stood right outside the doorway to try and catch him.

"Roman!" Logan called when he walked out. Roman's eyes widened a bit but he nodded.

"Logan."

"I wanted to apologize-"

Roman held up a hand to stop him and motioned his head towards the end of the hall where it was quieter.

"I wanted to apologize for what I said on Tuesday," Logan started. "It was very rude of me to say, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I... I'm sorry if I was a bit overbearing," Roman shrugged back.

"It's fine," Logan said. The two just stared at each other for a few moments, not knowing what to say.

"I... I have another class," Logan started.

"...I guess I'll... see you around?"

Logan nodded and the two parted ways. Logan didn't normally leave using the back door, but he didn't want to have to walk back down the hallway behind Roman.

Of course it was awkward. Of course it wasn't okay. There was no way to take back what had been said. Even though Logan apologized, Roman still knows what Logan thinks about his major, and Logan still knows Roman thinks he's stuck-up.

Logan sighed as he walked towards his class. At least he'll have calculus to distract him.

That next Monday, Logan was sitting at one of the outside tables outside the school union. He was working on extra credit for astronomy, one of his favorite classes. The weather was a bit cooler, and he was almost cold in the shade, and the fact that there had been steady wind all day wasn't helping.

Logan heard the chair across from him scrape against the concrete. Logan looked up to see Roman sitting across from him.

"Hello," Roman said with a small smile.

"Salutations," Logan responded, a bit dumbfounded. "How- How are you?"

"Fine," Roman said. "Rehearsals for the fall musical started. It's going really well. You?"

"Fine. Classes are going well."

"Good, good."

Awkward silence fell back over them as the wind rushed past them again, causing Logan to shiver.

"Are you cold? Would you like my jack-"

"I'm fine, thank you," Logan said quickly.

Another awkward silence.

"What are you working on?" Roman asked.

"I am working on an extra credit paper for astronomy, but I can't decide if I should write about the Copernicus and heliocentric models of the galaxy, black holes, or dark energy and matter. All of the topics are so interesting, it's hard to decide."

"I... understood maybe half those words," Roman admitted.

"Oh..."

"Why don't you tell me about them?" Roman asked, voice almost hopeful. Logan stared at him for a few moments.

"...Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Roman shrugged as he sat back in his chair. "I'm done with classes for today. Maybe talking about it out loud will help you decide what to write about?"

So Logan did. He told Roman all about his astronomy galaxy models and black holes and what dark matter is (or really, what it isn't), but soon he found himself rambling about other things, from space travel to gravitational waves to how the human eyes perceive light - any topic he came across relating to the subjects he had to talk about. They were all so interesting, how could he not?

Roman's own face lit up as he walked Logan talk. The way Logan's face brightened with excitement, the way he excitedly moved his hands around - it was all... adorable.

"Nice to see you excited about something, Specs," Roman said with a grin as he rested his head in his hand.

"Wh- what?"

"I like knowing you have passions, Roman shrugged. "Let's me know you aren't such a straight-ass as I thought."

Logan felt his cheeks heat up and he prayed to God that it wasn't noticeable (it was).

"That love you have for astronomy? That's how I feel about theatre," Roman said as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. Logan just stared at him.

"...I'll see you around, Logan."

Then Roman stood and walked away, leaving Logan with a blush dusted across his face.

That Friday, Logan was walking back towards the student parking lot. It was the end of a long week, and Logan was frankly ready to get back to his apartment, make some tea, and relax while listening to podcasts.

"Logan?"

"Oh, hello, Roman," Logan said once he turned around to see who had spoken to him.

"So. This is the Logan you were telling me about," the man next to Roman said as he placed the hand not holding an ice coffee on his hip.

"Oh boy. Logan, this is my cousin, Remy."

"It's nice to meet you."

"Pleasure, doll."

Logan could tell it was anything but.

"Logan!" someone called out. "You left your phone in the union- oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

"No. And thank you, Emile," Logan said as he took his phone back from his friend. He said nothing else for a moment before he realized he should probably introduce everyone.

"This is Roman. Roman this is-"

"I'm Remy," he interrupted. "What's your name, dollface?"

"I'm Emile! Lovely to meet you. Do you how do?" Emile said with a large grin.

"Uh... what?" Roman asked quietly.

"Adorable," Remy smirked as he pushed his sunglasses down, exposing his eyes. His left was a light blue while his right was a dark, coffee brown. Emile gasped, and their eyes shifted into their own colors.

"Oh my goooooosh!" Roman squealed as he lifted his hands to his mouth and glanced between the two.

"Oh my stars! It's so nice to finally meet you," Emile stammered as his face grew red.

"Wanna go grab a coffee? Get to know each other?" Remy asked as he looked Emile up and down before sliding his shades back over his eyes.

"You already have a coffee," Logan pointed out.

"No I don't," Remy said as he poured the remnants of his cup onto the grass and shoved the empty plastic into Roman's hands. "What do you say?"

"I'd love to!" Emile said with a wide grin. Remy returned it with a cocky smile as he looped his arm around Emile's and looked down at the shorter man, Emile's blush growing darker.

"We'll see you two gents later," Remy said before turning and leading Emile down the sidewalk.

"...Well then," Logan said after a moment as he and Roman watched the two walk away.

"Oh, Logan, wasn't that incredible?" Romans sighed. "We got to bring two soulmates together!"

"Yes, I suppose it was."

"...Hey, so, uh," Roman started before the silence between them got too awkward. "I was just about to head to rehearsals, if you'd like to come watch?"

Logan's first instinct was to say no, but he hesitated. It wasn't like he had anything to do. Besides, Roman's making a clear effort to move past their first day together. Logan should, too.

"Sure."

Roman beamed.

Logan sat in the middle of the house, watching as the director stopped the actors again and again and again - giving notes and drilling them with questions about their characters and their choices. They went over and over the same scenes until even Logan knew the lines.

But Roman never seemed to get tired. While a couple actors would roll their eyes, huff in frustration, Roman never did. He took all the criticism in stride, answered all the director's questions in a heartbeat, and took the notes from the director to heart as he improved his performance in the next run.

Roman was really... dedicated.

Logan waited in his seat at the end of rehearsal as everyone filed out. When everyone had left except Roman, Logan stood up and went backstage where he found Roman playing notes on the piano.

"Oh, sorry! Honestly, I completely forgot you were out there," Roman said sheepishly as Logan walked in. "...Did you see how many times I messed up the notes in the opening song? I was practicing to make sure that didn't happen again."

"Roman I'm... I'm sorry. Truly this time."

Roman froze for a few moments before he patted the piano bench as he slid over, leaving room for Logan.

"You were correct in your previous statement about me not knowing how hard one has to work to be a talented actor. I saw how passionate you are about this show, about your performance - how dedicated you are to your craft.

And I'm sorry. My statement was ignorant, and I wish I could revoke my words. But I can't, so I can only offer my sincerest apologies and hope you can accept them."

"Thanks, Logan," Roman said with a soft smile. A genuine one, not one of the cocky ones Roman often flashes around campus. One very few get to actually see. "I'm sorry I called you impersonal, or whatever. I was just angry."

"You had every right to be."

"We're not so different, you and I," Roman said with a cheeky grin. "We hold similar fervor, we just fan different flames. I saw that spark in your eyes on Monday. You're passionate in your own way. I admire that. Plus, you're super smart and have a gorgeous face. How lucky am I to get you as a soulmate?"

"I admire your passion and dedication, as well," Logan said as he glanced away, feeling his face heat up again.

Roman smiled, and when Logan looked back at him, he couldn't help but smile back.

"So, you play piano?" Logan asked.

"Yep. And guitar. And drums. And french horn and violin."

"Wow. How did you manage to learn all those?"

"French horn I learned in my school's band and violin in the orchestra. Piano, guitar, and drums I taught myself by saving up money washing cars and buying discounted instruments online."

"Incredible," Logan whispered. Now it was Roman's turn to blush. "And you can sing and act. Now who's the lucky one?"

"Still me," Roman grinned. "But thank you," he added softly as he glanced away.

"Will you play me something?"

"Happily. Any requests?"

"One of your favorites."

Roman thought for a moment before placing his hands on the keys. He started singing in that low, beautiful voice Part of Your World.

"You're magnificent," Logan said as Roman took his hands off the keys. Roman's blush returned.

"Thank you."

"So you like Disney?"

"I love Disney," Roman grinned. "Do you?"

"I have never seen a Disney movie. I never watched much TV growing up. My parents told me it would hinder my studies," Logan said. "I've seen parts whenever Emile watches them in the apartment, and I'm familiar with a few songs I've heard over the years, but I can not say if I like Disney or not."

"Never seen Disney?" Roman gasped. "Come over to mine and Remy's apartment tomorrow. I'll kick him out for the day, and we can binge Disney movies. I'll show you all the classics."

"I think I could enjoy that," Logan said as he made the mental note to finish his assignment tonight so he had free time tomorrow.

"It's a date?" Roman asked with a hopeful smile.

"It's a date. I'll let you continue practicing, now. I have schoolwork I need to do, anyways," Logan said as he stood up.

"I'll see you later, Specs."

"Goodbye, Roman."

"...Wait, Logan?" Roman asked once Logan was at the door.

"Yes?"

"Do... do the others know about me yet?" Roman asked so softly Logan almost didn't hear him.

"I'll tell them about you tonight. I promise," Logan said. "I'll text you what they say about meeting you."

"Thanks, Logan."

Logan nodded and turned to leave, the sound of the piano and Roman's beautiful voice fading as he walked away.

76 notes · View notes

thestarswhim · 4 years ago

Text

Intertwining Connection

Summary: Since MK has Monkey King’s powers, wouldn’t they both have some sort of connection to each other?

An idea where MK might get a sense of what the Monkey King is feeling.

Words: 1,757

Notes: Descriptions of anxiety, but nothing major.

It was late at night, a few hours before MK would have to get ready for work, and there was barely any noise except for the occasional cars that drove by. So, it was a wonder when he woke up suddenly, gasping for air as if he just ran with all the strength he had left, and sat straight up.

He searched the whole room, alarmed, and confused, and uneasy — and when did he start using the golden vision thing? He blinked it away and rubbed at his eyes, trying to take deep breaths, but the weight still in his chest wasn’t letting up. Everything felt vague… like the feeling one would get after waking up from a dream, but… he couldn’t recall any of it if he did. The only thing that kept screaming at him was that someone was in danger. But, who?

He fidgeted slightly in his bed and clenched his blanket around his fists, causing it to scrunch up in his hands. He bit down on his tongue as he looked over to his gear and then slowly to the window — no. No, no, no, no, no. He was not going to just go out on impulse again and then end up finding nothing. He freaked about stuff like this before, where he felt something was wrong, and usually nothing bad actually happened until a few or more days after. And he took care of those things when they did happen. Most of the time. Besides, sometimes he was just overthinking things and nothing was wrong in the first place. So, he should breathe it in, breathe it out, go back to sleep, and not worry about it (for now), right?

...

But, still…

This felt different. It was more intense, as if it were a life or death situation, and that, by ignoring it, would be a grim, dark, scary mistake he did not want to consider.

There began an anxious sensation he didn’t feel before going down his back like some sort of chill, and it felt way too uncomfortable.

Okay. He should probably go and find that someone.

He quickly got out of bed, stumbling a bit as he grabbed his jacket and headband, and saw as he was putting on his shoes how much his hands were trembling. He wasn’t scared or nervous; rather, it was that sensation that would not leave, and it was bothering him — and he really needed to go find whoever was in danger.

Using the golden vision could help most likely, and maybe Monkey King knew what was going on? Given how strong this feeling was, it was probably another power of his, and it would be something MK would have to get used to more often. Great.

The thought of Monkey King, however, suddenly brought a flash of blue and gold into his mind. His breath hitched at the realization, and all the weight from his chest dropped to his stomach in an instant as he snapped his head to the window.

“Monkey King,” he breathed out, and before he could comprehend it, he was jumping out the window, staff in hand.

How could Monkey King be in danger? He could clearly handle himself just fine. Maybe this was all in his head, yeah. Probably… but of course he was still going to check because… because the feeling was only growing stronger, and the sharp sensation was fully enveloping him, and, and — he suppressed a frustrated groan. Focus, MK! Now wasn't the time! He had to get to Flower Fruit Mountain!

Before his body would reach the ground, he swiftly landed the end of the staff first with a resounding thud on the street and extended it forward to launch himself higher into the air. It would be quicker this way.

Though, luckily and surprisingly for him, he supposed, was that not even a second after, he caught an object in his view coming straight towards him, moving in a bit too fast for his liking, actually.

“Kid!” it shouted, tone tight and on edge, and a wave of dizzying fear penetrated his chest and left all at the same time, making his throat tighten.

“Monkey King?” MK choked to get out. He was okay! Maybe? Was he being chased probably? That sudden, intense beat of emotion took him longer to comprehend everything properly; it left his whole body fuzzy and dull, but also static with anxious induced adrenaline, his nerves feeling singed at the edge of his mind.

Which totally made him forget he wasn't on the ground and, rather, still in the air. The momentum he gained before was now dissipating and gravity was starting to catch up to him again, slowly dragging him down.

Oh.

He made a yelp jump out of his mouth when he hit something sooner than he thought, but as soon realized he wasn't in immediate pain and was being picked back up into the air in a swooping motion.

His mind processed that his head was against someone's chest, as he heard rapid, muffled thumping of a heart in his ear. Also he heard talking — and oh my gosh, Monkey King!

He squirmed around in his mentor's grasp, trying to get a better look at his surroundings in case someone was chasing him or something.

"Woah, hey," Monkey King started, and there was a slight tremble to his voice, but that could be from coming all the way over to the city. "Don't worry, it's just me."

They floated back down to the ground, where MK found they were on the cloud beforehand, and took a few steps back once he was sure he was not in the air anymore (that was a rollercoaster in it of itself) to assess everything, including Monkey King who seemed fine and gave him one of his side smiles. They were the only two present at the moment; he didn’t hear or see anyone else coming, neither was his senses buzzing out anymore. He slowly exhaled. This was all so intense for no reason.

“You all right, Kid? Why were you so high in the sky this early in the morning?” Monkey King chuckled, in a short, weird way, and, if MK was seeing right, he looked relieved himself.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorta confused, but good,” MK nodded, twisting the staff in his hands. “And, well, I guess — are you okay? I thought something bad happened.”

Monkey King raised his eyebrows, his tail slowly swaying to and fro, and then swiftly changed into a more neutral, chill-like expression. He had been doing that a lot lately. “Of course I’m fine!” He then gazed around the area, eyes focused and distant at the same time. “Why? Did something happen?”

His voice had that certain edge again, but MK tried not to think too much on it right now, and instead relaxed his stature more and shook his head. “No? I mean I hope not. I woke up in this panic and it was not leaving no matter what I did which made me think it was something serious and that someone was in trouble, and then I had a feeling that it could be you? And now you're here, so I guess it was nothing? I’m not sure.”

Silence… and then, “unless something is wron—”

“Okay, kiddo,” Monkey King put his hand on MK’s head, “before you start freaking out again: I’m fine, and I’m pretty sure everything else is fine. It was probably a dream you had if anything.”

MK thought for a moment. It probably was, but, like before, he couldn’t remember any of it even if he tried. It was weird. He sighed, “I guess. So… why are you here, then?”

Monkey King stiffened, MK could tell from his hand still on his head and the way his fingers twitched in his hair, but it was so subtle and quick, no one would catch it. But, and for some reason, MK kept catching those small moments more and more, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that, or what to think of it.

His mentor put his hand back down and stretched. “Eh, ‘just wanted to smell the morning air, I don’t do it often. So, I thought I’d fly around the city for a while, and then, to my suprise, there you were nearly falling, so,” his shoulders shook from his small laughter again. “But, I suppose I should head back now since everything seems to have settled down, and you should try and get some more rest before you actually have to get up, okay?”

“Right,” MK said, and he wanted to say more, that look in Monkey King’s eyes made him want to, but… maybe now wasn't the right time. And maybe he was over exaggerating things. Monkey King was fine, and even if he was hiding anything, MK shouldn’t press on it if he wasn’t supposed to know. He had learned that by now…

“All right, Kid, lets go,” Monkey King smiled gently, and, before MK could question anything, he grabbed a hold of him and lifted them both back up on the cloud over to his balcony.

“Thanks,” MK smiled back while he safely landed his feet on said balcony. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Or, wait, today? What time is it?”

“Way too early to be up,” Monkey King reminded with a smirk, “so go to sleep or else you’ll be sweeping the whole mountain.”

“Wait, really?” Because no. No, thank you. Was that even possible, and who would even sweep a whole mountain?

Monkey King shrugged with a “I don’t know” noise. “I guess we’ll have to see later today," and, with a short wave and a wink, said, "see ya, bud!" and went zooming away.

MK watched him go once again, leaning his arms against the railing. The sun was just beginning to show up, the dark blue sky becoming a lighter shade of gray with warm tones peeking out between the buildings. As his mind went over everything, he closed his eyes and sighed, letting the light breeze brush over the tips of his hair.

He probably wasn't going back to bed.

~~~

Wukong road on his cloud on the way back to the mountain, hoping the wind would take his thoughts with it.

The kid… was he sharing…?

No. Maybe.

He roughly huffed. He had to keep his emotions in check, or else he was going to end up hurting the both of them.

~~~

Notes: This one was a bit shorter, but I wanted to write about it because the idea was pretty interesting to me, and it’d be cool if they explored more on how they’re sharing the same power, so... (and the part where I made Wukong catch MK was what inspired me to write it all in general because I thought it looked nice in my head and it was my first thought for the idea LOL)

BUT YES, I hope you enjoyed! And if any of you want to write out or do anything about this idea, go right ahead; I would love to see it!!

I might make this a series of little one-shots or even longer stories if I get more ideas for it, but, anywho, thank you so much for reading!! Much Love, and many Blessings! 😊

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #monkie kid fanfiction #monkie kid fanfic #MK #qi xiaotian #monkey king #sun wukong #LMK #fanfiction #fanfic

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simp-ly-in-love · 4 years ago

Text

Bummer Summer

Step 3 (18 y/o)

Summary: Jamie is having a hard day mentally and Cove is eager to help them out

Words: 2100

Trigger Warning: I am basing this off of what a less severe depressive episode may look like. In this, Jamie is on medication and has been seeing a therapist for years. Cove is privy to their lows prior to this episode. If you are easily triggered by mentions of depression/ vague descriptions of dissociation please read at your own risk. And if you are feeling low and can access help, please do :)

You couldn’t quite put your finger on what had felt off when you woke up, besides the extra strong desire to stay nestled comfortably in bed. You had thought that perhaps you had just had a bit of morning laziness, that surely would pass after an hour or so of browsing on your phone. Doubt started to creep in around the 45 minute mark, and after the morning slowly crept into the afternoon, you realized that perhaps that wasn’t going to be the case after all.

The slightly bad taste in your mouth from morning breath did nothing to persuade you to get up, nor did the low rumble of your stomach or the dryness of your mouth. The idea leaving bed simply seemed like an increasingly impossible task for today.

Wanting to block out this uncomfortable realization, you pulled your covers over your head and willed yourself to fall back asleep. Mom and Ma must have been out for the day since they hadn’t been up to check on you by now. And you vaguely remembered Liz mentioning she was leaving for the day to meet up with some friends. On any other day, having the house to yourself might have been nice, but now it just felt lonely.

The staccato buzzing of your phone cut through the silence, and begrudgingly you checked to see who had texted you.

Cove: Jamie Are you home? I haven’t seen any sign of you all day

You felt mildly bad that you didn’t have the energy to respond. But even that bit of remorse felt muted, far away somehow. With a sigh, you turned your phone off, not wanting any more potential interruptions. You closed your eyes once more, hoping to drift out of consciousness…

…

“Jamie?” A soft voice called out to you, accompanied by a series of light shakes to your shoulder, pulling you from your second nap of the day. A mop of green hair greeted you as you blearily blinked the sleep from your eyes. You felt your eyebrows pinch together in confusion, and the voice spoke again before you could ask what Cove was doing there.

“You read my messages, but didn’t reply. You never do that” Cove explained, sheepishly. It was true, you had always made time for a quick reply whenever you had gotten a message. “I got a bit anxious, so I figured I’d check on you…”

For a moment, silence filled the air once more, as you stared at one another. You could see the concern pooled in Cove’s eyes as he stared back at you. Still you found yourself at a loss and couldn’t find the words to reply.

“Did you take your meds today?” Cove asked, determined to figure out what was going on with you. His head swung to look at your desk as he spoke, searching to see if you’d taken your daily dose. His eyebrows raised slightly in alarm when he saw the day’s portion still occupied. Without a thought, he quickly crossed the room and grabbed your meds and a half open bottle of water that had been on your desk. He offered them to you, looking at you with a mixture of pleading and expectancy.

Using all of your strength, you sat up for the first time all day, gingerly taking the pills and open bottle from him. Cove smiled softly as he watched you take your meds and drain the rest of the water. He took it from you once empty and threw it in your trash can with ease before joining you on your bed

“Are you having a hard day?” He asked, and you replied with a nod. Cove’s lips parted, presumably to ask you another question, when he was cut off by a much louder groan from your stomach. After a moment of surprise he let out a little chuckle then said, “I guess that answers my next question”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment at the exchange, but were relieved to see nothing but a soft smile on Cove’s face. Of course he never would have laughed at you for something like this, but seeing him still look at you like he always had in your current state really helped any lingering unease.

“Tell you what; How about if you go get ready for the day, and I’ll go get us something to eat?” Cove suggested cheerfully. Though still muted, you felt your heart fill a bit. You could always count on him to take care of you at times like this. When you agreed, his smile grew wide.

“Up and at ‘em” he declared, hopping out of bed and offering you both of his hands to take. Allowing yourself to stretch your back first, you placed both of your hands in his and allowed him to help you out of bed. As you slowly shuffled around your room, grabbing clothes from here and there to change into, Cove offered some words of encouragement and praise. “Take as long as you need,” He said with a smile after dropping you off at the bathroom. You nodded in acknowledgement to him before closing the door.

…

You could feel a change in yourself as soon as you stepped out of the bathroom. You definitely felt lighter after cleaning up, without the feelings of shame and slight disgust weighing you down. Feeling fresh even gave you the energy to discard your old clothes in the hamper and make your bed before heading downstairs.

As promised, Cove was sitting at the kitchen table with two bags from your favorite fast food place and some tall water glasses. When he heard your padding over, he looked up from his phone and smiled. “You look great, Jamie!” he stated, with the same enthusiasm he had the night of the ORCA fundraiser. His enthusiasm brought a sheepish curve to your lips as you joined him at the table.

“I know it’s not the healthiest, but I figured you’d enjoy some comfort food” Cove rambled as he handed you your meal and one glass of water.

“Thanks” You said gratefully before digging in, not quite catching the proud expression Cove was wearing. You ate together in comfortable silence, and you had to admit it felt incredibly good to finally have a full stomach and some water in you.

The orange hue of evening sun was the first thing you had noticed once you had finally tuned into your surroundings. Your mouth opened in awe when you checked the clock in the kitchen and it read almost 7 pm.

“I can’t believe I spent the whole day in bed…” You mumbled with a mixture of disappointment and sadness. While your mental health was something that you had actively been working on improving for years, there were still days like today. Sometimes, it made you feel like all of the progress you had made had been thrown out the window.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself” Cove offered, his hand reaching across the table to capture one of yours. “I’m so proud of you for getting out of bed and getting ready,” he added, determined to re-inflate your mood. He let go only to clean up after you both and refill your waters.

Having only been satisfied after watching you drink two more full glasses of water, Cove suggested you go on a walk together. Truthfully, you weren’t quite feeling up to it, but you’d felt bad rejecting the idea when you knew he was only trying to help.

The sun was almost fully set by the time you’d arrived at the beach, adding a coolness to the air and the sand. Kicking off both of your shoes, Cove offered you a hand once more. You took it, allowing him to guide you to the shore. The coolness of the water was more shocking than you thought it’d be, causing you to jump a bit at the contact. A light laugh escaped from Cove, who seemed to be enjoying himself well enough as he watched you begin regrounding with the world.

You stood still, letting your eyes close as you focused on your surroundings. Taking a deep breath, you smelled the patent saltiness of the sea. The cool waves still washed over your ankles, though their chill was less shocking to you now. The distant cries of seagulls and chirps of crickets could be heard. A light wind gently stirred your hair, slightly tickling you. And the warm hand in yours offered a calming, comfortable presence.

When you reopened your eyes, the sky had changed from hues of orange to purples and blues. You turned to Cove, your rock for the day, and drew him in for a hug. He happily accepted, giving you a tight squeeze in return, his cheek resting on the top of your head. The two of you stayed like that until you were ready to let go, and to Cove’s delight, you were beaming at him.

“Thanks for taking care of me today, Cove”

“Thank you for going along with it,” he replied cheekily, flashing you a broad smile of his own. He knew you well enough to know that sometimes it took you more than one try to accept help when it was offered to you, especially on days like today. He was genuinely thrilled that you had allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him enough to let him take care of you. “Should we head back?”

“Sure” you agreed easily, this time offering him your hand to hold as you led the way home. You walked together, hand in hand, in silence until about halfway home when a thought suddenly occurred to you.”Hey Cove… How did you get in?”

A deep flush fell over Cove’s cheeks at the question. His free hand scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, his eyes averted from yours as he awkwardly replied, “I… may or may not have picked the lock at your window…”

“WHAT?!” You exclaimed, more surprised than upset really.

Flustered by your reaction, Cove panickily tried to explain, “The front door was locked- and I tried calling you but your phone was going straight to voicemail. Then I saw you in bed and tried to wake you but you didn’t hear me… So i just-” Cove fished out his utility knife and mimed picking your window lock.

“Sorry… Please don’t be mad” Cove pleaded, puppy dog eyes aimed straight at you. You could only shake your head ruefully at his antics.

“Maybe I should just leave my windows unlocked from now on…” you mused aloud, bringing a smile back to Cove’s. You weren’t quite sure if it was due to his lack of a punishment or because he genuinely found the idea appealing.

“Honestly, why didn’t we think of that years ago?” Cove huffed out in a laugh.

“True, it would have saved me from you waking me up in the middle of the night all the time” You teased back. By the time your joint laughter died down, you had reached the street between your houses.

“Thanks again, Cove” You said, simultaneously pulling him in for another hug.

“Anytime Jamie… I hope tomorrow’s a better day. And even if it’s not, I’ll always be right across the street” You felt your heart melt a bit at his offer, and you gave him an extra tight squeeze in response. You really had been blessed with the sweetest, and most wonderfully attentive neighbor.

“Goodnight, Jamie” Cove bid you. You did the same, finally releasing him from your embrace and made your way to your respective front doors. Of course you both looked back at another before heading inside, offering each other a smile and a wave before finally letting the door close shut.

***

Only when you were ready for bed did you recover your cell phone that you had accidentally left in bed when you made it earlier. After waiting a few minutes for it to turn back on, a series of buzzes went off in rapid succession.

Cove: Helllooooo Earth to Jamieeeee Why didn’t you respond ? I’m going to try calling you…

Conveniently, you also had 3 missed calls

Cove: That’s it, I’m coming over Reply if you don’t want me to Or if you do … On my way

You couldn’t help but laugh at his unreturned messages. If there was one thing you could always count on, it was definitely Cove cheering you up, you thought as you settled into bed, a smile resting firmly on your face.

#cove holden #cove Holden imagine #cove Holden headcanons #cove holden x reader #cove holden x jamie #cove holden x you

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imma-fucking-nerd · 4 years ago

Text

In Real Life

(Connor x Reader)

A/N: this is inspired by the demi lovato song of the same title that I randomly remembered from when i was a kid that i totally didn't discover from a hetalia fic 👁️👄👁️

——————————————

Gavin Reed. He was an..... interesting character. Most people thought he was a trouble making asshole, and they weren't exactly wrong. He liked to pick fights, mostly with androids, and he held this arrogant air around him. But that didn't mean he wasn't capable of kindness, how to have a fun time, and believe it or not he was actually kind of funny. You supposed that was why you started to like him.

At first you only agreed to go on a date with him so he'd leave you alone. But one date turned into two. Then three. Then, before you knew it you found yourself living with him, and carrying the title of his 'girlfriend'. Honestly, you didn't really hate that idea.

He was kind enough, and funny enough, he was just enough to cure your crippling case of loneliness. So you let yourself fall for him. After all, there weren't really any other options for you at the moment. At least, not that you were aware of. But unbeknownst to you, a certain android had a budding crush on you.

You had been dating Gavin for a couple of months and things were....okay. Not bad, but not ideal either. You just chalked it up to your hopeless romantic nature expecting too much of him, and unrealistic. So, you settled with the mediocre relationship. It wasn't like he was abusive in any way. He had just been growing more and more distant, to say the least.

You wouldn't really ever go on fun dates out anymore. Unless you counted the weekends you would follow him to a bar. Where he would get shitfaced which then you would have to drag him to your shared apartment before he started a fight with someone. But those nights were hardly romantic. The only remotely romantic element being him managing to convince you to sleep with him.

Most days, he would stay home to hang out for no more than a couple of hours. But then he'd be off doing god knows what for the rest of the night. He'd rarely even be there when you woke up either. He would always just say it was because he had work he needed to do.

You brushed never questioned him about all the excuses, telling yourself that he was a detective. He must have been needed quite a lot. Or maybe he even just wanted his own time. That was fine. He was allowed to want his alone time. So you put up with it, even though it was causing little cracks in your heart every time. You ignored the voice in the back of your head that told you that you deserved more than this. A certain someone would have to agree.

Tonight was one of those nights. You were laying in your bed, and Gavin was getting dressed and ready to leave. You held back the urge to sigh as you watched him, a hint of sadness in your (e/c) eyes. Sitting up slightly, you cleared your throat. You already knew the answer to what you were about to ask, but it was worth a shot.

"So, when are you gunna be home?" you asked, a hopeful tinge to your voice.

"Dunno, probably not til late. I got work, but I'll let you know," he said as he shrugged on his jacket.

"Okay..." you replied quietly.

"I gotta go, cya later," he said, stopping at your bedroom door, sparing you a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Okay, bye," you waved, offering him a small smile.

With that, he was gone once again. When you heard the front door shut you let out a long sigh. You layed back down and stared up at the ceiling, letting your mind wonder. After a few moments the buzzing of your phone caught your attention. You rolled over onto your side and grabbed it, turning it on and punching in your passcode. You opened the messages app and a smile appeared on your face when you read the text.

NEW MESSAGE

Connor: Hello, (Y/n). How are you doing this evening? :)

You couldn't help but chuckle at the little smiley face. You taught him how to make the basic emote faces and you thought it was adorable every time he used one. Almost immediately, you typed up your reply.

(Y/n): Hey Con! I'm ok, you?

Connor was your best friend. Ever since he first waltzed into the prescinct you found him intriguing. The thing thing that brought you two together at first was because you defended him from Gavin, and anyone else who bullied the poor android. You really didn't understand why they were all so mean to him.

You thought the detective android was amazing in every single way. Not only was his detective work unmatched, but he was also such a sweetheart, and honestly so unintentionally hilarious, not to mention he was very attractive. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't imagined what it would be like to date him. He would honestly be the perfect boyfriend. But you doubted he'd think of you in a romantic way.

Connor had only become a deviant not too long ago. So trying to flirt with him would feel wrong anyways. But being friends with him was something you could do. You always knew he was so much more than a machine on a mission. When he came to you to tell you he had become deviant you immediately pulled him into a hug, much like Hank did. Little did you know that your hug would awaken feelings in him for you he never knew were possible, yet felt as if they'd always been there.

NEW MESSAGE

Connor: I'm doing good. May I ask why you're just okay? Is something wrong?

His concern made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. A feeling that you were supposed to feel from your boyfriend. Your previous smile dropped as you stared at the question on the screen. You trusted Connor with your life but you didn't know if you should tell him what was bothering you. With a soft sigh, you typed up your response.

(Y/n): No no I'm fine. It's just one of those days y'know?

(Y/n): But I really appreciate your concern :)

You felt bad for lying to him, but it wasn't like there was anything he could do about your little predicament. You were grateful you didn't have to have this conversation face to face, otherwise he would have most definitely caught you in your lie. Yet even through text, Connor wasn't very convinced but he didn't want to press even further.

NEW MESSAGE

Connor: Oh, ok. Let me know if you need anything (Y/n) and I'll be there. :)

Once again, his message brought a smile to your face, along with that funky feeling in your stomach. Oh how you wished Gavin could make you feel this special.

(Y/n): Thank you Connor :3

NEW MESSAGE

Connor: What is that?

You chuckled softly at the android's endearing cluelessness when it came to texting. God he was adorable.

(Y/n): It's a face! Like a dog or a cat face

NEW MESSAGE

Connor: Oh.

Connor: :3

You couldn't help but giggle at the incoming text.

(Y/n): Cute! :D

NEW MESSAGE

Connor: Anyways, I shouldn't keep you up any further. It's late, you should sleep.

You glanced up to the corner of your phone and saw the time read 1:43 am. He definitely wasn't wrong, and as if on cue your body let out a long yawn.

(Y/n): Yeah you're probably right. Goodnight Connor.

NEW MESSAGE

Connor: Goodnight (Y/n) :3

You chuckled and shook your head as you turned your phone off, placing it over your heart. An absent-minded dreamy sigh fell past your lips and you placed your phone over on your nightstand. You got comfortable in under the covers and fluttered your eyes shut before you slowly drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up at the sound of your alarm, you weren't surprised to find the space beside you empty. No kisses, no breakfast made for you, not even the presence of your boyfriend. You were used to that by now though. It's almost as if you were still single. With a little huff, you got up and started getting ready for work.

You weren't a detective like Gavin, but you did work at the station with him, and with Connor. Almost as soon as you thought about your favorite android, you saw your phone light up in your peripherals. You didn't even need to read who it was from before a smile stretched across your face.

NEW MESSAGE

Connor: Good morning (Y/n). I hope you slept well. I look forward to seeing you.

(Y/n): Thanks Connor, I slept alright. I'm leaving now so I'll see you soon.

NEW MESSAGE

Connor: See you soon (Y/n) :)

With that, you shut your phone off and tucked it away into your purse before leaving the apartment. You locked the door behind you and ledt to go down to your car. The smile Connor's morning texts brought you stayed on your face the whole ride to work. You had a feeling today was going to be a great day.

The hours of the day rolled by seamlessly, and for the most part, your little feeling was right. You didn't have that many reports to fill out and Connor wasn't out on any cases with Hank so you got to talk with him a lot. The only thing that kind of disappointed you was the lack of attention you got from your boyfriend. You tried not to let that get you down, but Connor could sense that you weren't 100%.

It was currently 7:45pm and you were finally ready to head home. After gathering your belongings, you looked around for Gavin. You were a little confused when you couldn't find him, but just assumed he went home before you. Wouldn't be the first time. As your eyes scanned the prescinct, they met a pair of warm chocolate brown ones. Your lips almost immediately curled up into a smile when you recognized who they belonged to.

"Hello, (Y/n). Are you done for the day?" he asked, returning your smile with a lopsided smile of his own.

He had yet to master the whole smiling thing without looking awkward. But it cute nonetheless.

"Yep, you?" you responded, popping the 'p'.

"Yes, Hank is waiting for me in the car," he nodded.

"Then you probably shouldn't keep him waiting before he leaves without you," you chuckled.

"Right," he agreed almost sheepishly.

"C'mon, we can walk out together," you offered with a smile.

Connor's own smile widened and he nodded enthusiastically, "I would like that."

You lead the way to the exit and Connor followed. As you got to the door, Connor quickly stepped ahead of you and opened the door for you. A soft chuckle escaped you and you felt a slight warmth rise up into your cheeks. Something that didn't go unnoticed by the android detective.

"Why thank you kind sir," you said with a grin.

"Of course, my lady/lord," he replied with a cheeky little smile as he exited after you.

As he walked you over to your car, the sudden sound of a car's horn made you jump. You turned your head to Hank's beat up old car.

"Connor, hurry the fuck up or I'm leaving your ass here!" you heard the older man yell from his car.

"Coming Lieutenant!" Connor called after him.

He then turned to you with a soft smile, "Goodnight (Y/n), I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight Connor," you replied with a wave as he jogged over to Hank's car.

You and Connor locked eyes once more before you both got into your seperate vehicles. You swore you felt your heart skip a beat, and as soon as you were in your car you let out a girlish giggle. Today was definitely a great day.

You pulled up in front of the apartment building and parked along the curb. Gavin only had one parking spot and that was reserved for his truck, so you had to park infront of the building. Not that you really minded. Stepping out of the car, you locked it before entering the building. As you rode the elevator up to your floor you wondered if Gavin would be home. Maybe if you were lucky you could watch a movie together and cuddle to wrap up this perfect day.

When you arrived at your door you slid in your key to unlock to door only to find it was already unlocked. Huh that was weird. You just shrugged it off, assuming Gavin just left it unlocked for you. However when you entered the apartment and begun to take your jacket off you paused when your eyes landed on a pair of heels that weren't your own.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach when you heard hushed giggles and moans coming from deeper in the apartment. You dropped your bag by the door and closed it quietly before slowly creeping down the hall. The closer you got to the origin of the noises the louder they got and they were coming from the bedroom. The sound of your heart racing pounded in your ears as you recognized one of the voices to be Gavin's, your supposed boyfriend. The other voice was another woman's, and it didn't take much to put two and two together.

Your feet stopped on your venture forward and you stood frozen like a deer in headlights. The forming of tears stung your eyes and you felt your throat tightening. You could almost hear your heart breaking over the faint voices echoed in your mind. After a few moments of you just standing there, processing what was happening, you turned on your heel and grabbed your bag before slamming the door shut. There was no doubt they would heard that, and you hoped they did.

Hot tears brimmed your eyes and you tried so hard to keep them from spilling as you rushed into the elevator. You didn't want or need to face him or the woman he had cheated on you with. There was nothing he could say that would make it okay. That would stop you from leaving him like you knew you should have a long time ago.

It was only when you got into your car when you finally let the tears that threatened to spill fall down your face. Never before have you felt so stupid in your entire life. So much of you time and love poured into someone who never gave a shit about you. You hit the side of the steering wheel multiple times with a frustrated and hurt groan. After the anger had subsided you leaned your forehead against the wheel and just cried.

It had been a solid five minutes before you were able to steady your breathing and calm down a little. Your eyes glanced back to the apartment, with a shaky sigh you put the key into the ignition and started your car. You didn't have a set destination in mind but you just needed to go anywhere else but here.

You seemed to drive on autopilot because without even realizing it you ended up driving to the address of Lieutenant Anderson. Since you had made the mistake of moving in with Gavin, you really didn't have anywhere else to go. You hoped he wouldn't mind if you crashed there for a couple of days with a little persuasion from Connor. The moment you thought about the android you felt yourself feel just a little bit better. You knew that if anyone would be able to lift your spirits, it was him.

Within less than a half hour you arrived at the residence of Hank, Sumo, and as of recently, Connor. You parked by the curb and turned off your car. Taking a few deep breaths, you looked at yourself in the mirror and realized how much of a mess you looked. Your eyes were red, puffy, and glossy with fresh tears. But at this point you were beyond caring about how you looked.

With a soft huff you pulled yourself out of your car and headed up to the door. You wasted no more time before knocking on the door a couple of times. Looking over your shoulder you noticed Hank's car wasn't in the driveway. Must have been out at a bar or something. Your attention was brought back to the door when you heard it unlocking and being pulled open. Connor's eyes widened at the sight of you and his LED shifted into a yellow as he immediately scanned you for any bodily harm.

"(Y/n)? What's wrong? Are you alright?" he asked, worry evident in his voice and soft eyes.

"H-He cheated on me," was all you said, your barely audible voice cracking as you fought off a second round of tears.

The androids features softened and he opened the door wider for you to step inside. You offered him a weak grateful smile as you walked into the humble abode. He closed the door behind you before offering to take your coat, like the gentleman he was. After he took you to trudged over to the couch and sunk down onto it. You hadn't even been there five minutes and you already felt more at home than you did spending months at his place.

A smile tugged at your lips when the saint bernard, Sumo, came up and layed at your feet. You leaned down and pet through his thick fur.

"Hey buddy," you mumbled to the canine.

Your attention was brought back up to Connor when he took a seat next to you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked kind of awkwardly.

You shook your head, "No, not really."

Connor nodded in understanding. He wasn't quite sure what else to say. Comforting people wasn't exactly his strong suit. He was about to open his mouth to speak but shut it once you leaned your head against his shoulder, your eyes trained on the dog that layed by your feet. Connor tensed at the contact and you were just about to move away and apologize when he slowly wrapped an arm around your waist.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/n)," Connor almost whispered, breaking the silence that had fallen upon you.

"Yeah, me too," you said sadly, sighing shakily.

You felt the tears coming back and your breath becoming more uneven but you made no attempt to stop it. Connor must have noticed too because he shifted slightly and used his other hand to pull you into his chest. This time it was you who had tensed at the sudden hug, and soon you completely melted into his touch. You buried your face into his chest and clutched onto his jacket like your life depended on it, meanwhile Connor soothingly pet your hair.

"He didn't deserve you anyways," he mumbled, mostly to himself.

A long period of time passed where none of you said a word. Connor just held you in his arms as you sobbed into his chest. He thought he hated Gavin before you two started dating, now the next time he saw him he was going to have some words for him. Connor wished he had said something to you before you got hurt, but it was too late for that now so he was content to be here for you now. He hated to admit it, but he actually really like the position you two were in, minus the you crying thing of course.

A couple more minutes passed until Connor realized that you had seemed to calm down. He looked down at you and just as he was about to call your name he noticed that you had fallen asleep. You must have been so exhausted that you cried yourself to sleep. Slowly, Connor picked you up bridal style before laying you down onto the couch. He had to snap himself out of staring at your sleeping form in order to get you a spare blanket. When he came back he gently laid the blanket over you then hesitantly leaned down closer to you.

"Sleep well, (Y/n)," he whispered before leaning in further to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

In the morning, you were awoken by the potent smell of bacon in the air. You stirred a bit before your eyes fluttered open, taking in your surroundings. It took a moment to realize where you were, and what exactly happened the night before. When you looked up to see Hank making his way over to the couch you sat up to give him room. You assumed Connor had filled him in after you fell asleep because he didn't ask why you were here, only mumbling a 'mornin'.

You offered him a small smile in response and rubbed your eyes. Looking over, you saw Connor in the kitchen and got up to join him. When he noticed you at his side he offered you a bright smile.

"Good morning, (Y/n). How did you sleep?" he asked, his eyes going back to the bacon he was cooking up.

"As well as you'd expect sleeping on a couch. Whatcha doing?" you nodded down to the food he was making.

"Making you breakfast, of course," he said as if it were obvious.

"Really?" your eyes widened and you could feel your cheeks heating up.

"I hope you don't mind," he added once he saw your reaction, suddenly doubting his actions.

"No, no! I don't mind at all, it's just..... Something I'm not used to," you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Well, as long as you stay with us I'll make you whatever you want whenever you want," he grinned, proud of himself.

Your lips curled up into a wide smile and you went up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick peck to his cheek, "Thanks Con."

"Uh- N-No problem (Y/n)," he stuttered, a light blue starting to tint his cheeks.

Maybe all your romantic daydreams weren't so unrealistic after all. You just had to know where to look. Maybe you should be thanking Gavin. Yeah, a nice thank you with your fist would do just fine.

————————————————

A/N: oops i meant for this to be like 2500 words and it turned out to be nearly 4000- Anywayss hope y'all enjoyed!

#dbh #dbh x reader #dbh fanfic #dbh connor #connor x reader #connor rk800 x reader #connor rk800 #detroit rk800 #detroit become human #detroit #dbh rk800

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 4 years ago

Text

Getting back at writing, is, well, hard. My grammar and vocabulary and basically everything is messed up so I apologize in advance for that. It's been, almost a year ever since my last written fic. That time I was still crazy with Kimetsu no Yaiba and the KyoTan ship. I'll post it some other time ^^.

Anyways, I present to you my attempt in making a plotted work from a random thought that came over me this morning.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Basically none. Except for some curse words.

UD 01/10/21: Cleaned and revised some parts! Tried my best, hope it was enough.

•

Of Ice and Blood

Part 1

Quick backstory and some details I left out in the main work.

It was in summer, 28th of July, when Pearl Blackbell turned 19. She left her home and moved closer to the university she’ll be going to. She rented an apartment about five blocks from the school. Albeit small, it was cozy and proper, having what she needed: a kitchen, a decent-sized bedroom, a small living area with a worn but comfy couch, and a bathroom.

When she was younger, her parents started training her in martial arts and the use self-defense weapons. They needed to make sure she knew how to protect herself against assaulters and dangerous people, she was after all, their only child and baby girl . They want their daughter to be strong, both inside and outside, by the time she sets out on her own and leaves home.

Her favorite self-defense weapon was brass knuckles, despite her parents’ protests. She enjoys punching nasty people and feel the crunch of their bones beneath her fists, especially racists, sexists, bullies, and the lot. The main reason why she got into detention multiple times.

Painting it with a ruddy color, she keeps it in her person, no matter where she goes. She has two, one is for extreme situations, while the other has only two knuckles. It stills maximizes the damage dealt but it is relatively less dangerous than the full dusters. The second one is usually a spare, though she rarely uses it.

She also occasionally carries a pair of retractable nunchucks, which she designed to be hidden within her regular baggy clothes. Her father had trained her vigorously with them and she even bested him in a match before she left for the city.

Selkoth, the city of marvels.

Distant sounds of buzzing cars reached my ears as I opened my eyes and blinked away the sleepiness, the light shining from the spaces in my curtains rather helping, together with the warmth it brought to my chilled tawny skin.

[Start of the actual work]

I fully woke up as I registered the sound of my phone alarm, shortly getting up to prepare when I realized what day it was.

Monday, the first day of my college life.

I stepped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, knowing I bathed thoroughly last night to save some time today.

Time management is key.

I dried myself down, turned to my closet and started putting on the outfit I picked out the night before.

Prioritizing comfortability over appearance, I wore my favorite orange cotton shirt, my blackish-blue hoodie (that had been stained with blood some time ago, but don’t worry, I know how to clean out blood. Mama raised no fool.) over it, together with a pair of black skinny jeans. And of course, tight black sports bra and boxers, even mentioning my underwear yes?

I looked over to my mirror and it was—

Simple. And I loved it. The more simple it is the better.

'“Keep a low profile over there, sweetie. Don’t get into fights when you can help it okay??? We already taught you and prepared you to the best of our abilities. Promise to us that you’ll stay safe, and healthy. Okay? And don’t forget to call sometime.”' I sighed, remembering my mother’s words.

"Yes mama, I will.”

With a smile, I did my hair and went for a tight Dutch braid, it going down between my shoulder blades and ending a little above my waist. I ran to my kitchen to eat breakfast, satisfied with my look.

I eat fast okay

Backpack, check. White sneakers, check. Phone and keys, check. Airpods on, playlist shuffled, I bolted out of my apartment and jogged all 50 blocks to school.

Exercise is always important, and what other way to utilize time for exercising than to do it while heading to your destination, right?

I snickered.

As I made my way to the university, I saw bizarre creatures and monsters of different sizes, coexisting, and interacting with humans. Even so, I noticed other people’s disdain and bitterness towards them when I passed by. My nose is awfully sensitive to scents that sometimes the ones their body releases tells me what they feel at the moment. It’s all science, I guess. I was made extra susceptible to these, so I wear a mask everywhere and every time I go out just to partly block most of the smells.

My first day at a university open to everyone across the country gets my blood pumping with excitement. To think that I’m going to study at Ernestine State University, the Ernestine State University!

I first heard about the uni back when I was a child. News broke out about Victor Ernestine, committing suicide by driving his car off a cliff because he couldn’t accept that his daughter was one of the major leaders who made the unity of all people, of all races, possible.

Dramatic.

Months after Mr. Ernestine died, all his properties and riches were passed down to her daughter, who took over as the new founder of the university and rebuilt it to accommodate everyone, no matter the size and shape.

The strictly all-human school, renovated, reshaped, and repurposed, was now the first university to open its gates to everyone in the country of Yundomia.

I’ve always yearned to get to know other species in this world. I didn’t get the chance previously because my parents sent me to an all-human, local high school. Which sucks. I hated how everyone had a certain hatred for the other races, especially orcs. They keep talking about how they are wild beasts and savages that aren’t meant to be in society.

They treated them like animals that are void of emotions and intelligence.

Come to think of it, I mostly fought with humans who were either racist, bullies, bastards trying to hit on me, or a mix of all of them together.

I chuckled, remembering how many times I got counseled on not punching people in the face.

High school was pure torture, being a human-exclusive campus making it worse, considering how everybody smells so horrible and the principal was an egoistic dumbass I was a hair away from gutting him. My poor nose.

But now I’m done with that! I’m starting anew in this school, in this city. Perhaps make some friends along the way.

Which is kinda problematic.

I’m not the social type. I tend to keep things to myself and hardly open up to anybody. I wanna make at least one friend that isn’t human! Or just, one good friend. I didn’t have or made any friends in the past since people tend to shun me out just because I can tell how they are feeling and find it creepy.

Or they’re afraid to get punched in the face.

Entering the campus gates was like stepping into another world. I was met with the sight of humans and monsters walking together and conversing! It was nice, and I don’t get to see this much often.

I walked around and took in the landscape of the campus. It was huge! And beautifully designed to have a great number of trees and plants, while also having space more than enough to accommodate every student going to their respective classrooms.

I was minding my own business and it was all serene, until some bastards pushed past through me and knocking me to the side. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I was gonna say something, but I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to cause any trouble on the first day for goodness’ sake. So I brushed it off and went straight to the gym for the orientation.

*************************************

The orientation was, intriguing. The dean seems nice, though I couldn't smell him from where I sat. There's also a student council made up of both humans and monsters which is a good sign. The student council president was a Minotaur with a dark brown coat and horns curving front and pointing up. The vice-president was a male student who looked decent enough. The secretary was an elf. The treasurer, a dwarf. And the rest were humans. I couldn't scent any of them to tell me what they were feeling at the moment, but the Minotaur looked uncomfortable, his hands behind his back, body going stiff when they were introduced to the freshmen. There was a larger numbr of humans than monsters, which was expected. I also noticed how both were grouped, a white line in the middle of the gym separating us from them.

Maybe to avoid any misunderstandings?

We were informed that today will be for introductions to your classmates and subject teachers so there will be no lessons at all. Hooray!

I was walking to my first classroom when a damned familiar smell attacked my nose. I stopped to stand for a moment and adjusted my mask. I looked around to spot the one emitting it and of course, saw a human. He looked, well, the typical playboy cool boy who used too much body spray on himself.

Not wanting to stand there like an idiot and prolong my suffering, I speed walk to my classroom and planned to sit at the back hoping no one would notice or ask why I’m wearing a mask.

That's always what they ask first. Not my name or how I was doing.

I expected to find no one inside since it was still early, but I was startled to see a massive orc sitting at the back looking out at the window. He was wearing a dark gray knitted sweater that was hugging his hulking frame very…well. Along with what looked like thick cargo pants and black boots.

He turned to look at me when I let out a small yelp, greeting me with his piercing, blue eyes.

Beautiful.

The orc had long, braided, jet-black locks. Two of them had distinct beads that trailed down from the side of his face and down to his chest, the rest of his hair behind him braided with intricacy and tied and ended halfway down his back.

I was pushed out of my trance when a person entered and crashed into me, swearing under my breath that it was intentional, nearly making me plant face-first on the trash bins if I hadn’t changed my footing at the last moment.

“Watch it, bitch, you’re gonna ruin my make-up,” she snapped.

Wow. She dared to call me that and not apologize like I’m the one who shoved her. Just wow. Usually at this point, I would have planted her face on the floor, but I stopped myself.

Low profile! Low profile Pearl! You’re in college now! You definitely don’t want to get suspended on the first fucking day of class now do you?? Keep it together.

Straightening up, I walked towards the back and sat beside the orc. Whose gaze fell on me, curious, when I wasn’t looking.

I made myself settled in my seat before the professor came in.

There were other races in my class. A blue tiefling sat three rows in front, wearing a casual outfit. A black-haired elf who looked and dressed clever, a row away. A cute pink pixie on my far right. A satyr wearing glasses, two seats in front of me, and a female lizardfolk a seat from of the pixie.

"Are you...alright?"

I almost jumped from my seat when the orc beside me spoke. I couldn’t help but admire how deep his voice was. I tried not to appear flustered, my mask helped with that.

“Uh…yes?”

The orc regarded me for a second before continuing.

“You were pushed earlier.”

Oh. He saw that?

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” I smiled at him. Then I remembered he can’t see my face. But I hoped the crinkling of my eyes gave it away.

“I’m Pearl, by the way.” I reached out my hand to him, socializing not my best suit but at least I tried.

He paused for a second before taking it into his bigger one, engulfing mine and shook it slowly. I was again, surprised by how gentle he was.

“Tai'chi.”

Interesting.

“Nice to meet you, Tai'chi.”

He lets go of my hand when the professor started talking up front.

“Nice to meet you too, Pearl."

***************************************

Thoughts? I am wide open for constructive criticism :D

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Check pinned post for latest chapter updates💕

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wonjaekook · 4 years ago

Text

beneath the daylight moon

CHAPTER 3.

Read Chapter 2 here!

“Why do we sometimes see the moon, even during the daytime?”

Jaehyun didn’t know, nor did he care to notice that such a thing existed; it was a mystery to him, but you were a bigger enigma.

Jaehyun lowered his phone from his ear, nearly dropping it as he stared at the man opposite him. You and Jaehyun both spoke up at the same time, two voices raised in unison to ask the same thing. A name, which in this case served as a question of its own.

“Johnny?”

It took Jaehyun a moment to process that you had just said his best friend’s name and he had to muster all the self-control that he could manage to not to turn and look at you in shock. Instead, he swallowed hard, continuing to stare at Johnny. He rose from the bench slowly, but quickly hurried over, a short laugh leaving his throat as he embraced him.

“When you asked for my address, I thought you were going to send me a package or something,” Jaehyun said through a grin, giving his friend a solid smack on the shoulder as they part, “not this.”

“Getting into the building was the hard part. I could’ve just gotten your address from Mark. Thankfully, your grandma was home to buzz me in. I think she loves me already.” Johnny’s familiar grin was like a piece of home. One would think that Jaehyun had gotten used to moving around, as he’d done so his entire life, but being in a new place was always somewhat strange. It was nice to see his friend again.

“Of course she does,” he said, unable to hide the happiness in his voice. “Are you here for business or for pleasure, then?”

“Why not both?” As Johnny started to talk more, Jaehyun remembered you. He did his best to resist looking over his shoulder at the place where he left you, but shifted on his feet impatiently as time went on. “...so, I hope your weekend is free so we can check the place out.”

Jaehyun nodded somewhat absentmindedly. “Yeah, sure, I’m free.”

“Since I’m here, do you want to do something now? Unless I interrupted you here?” Johnny’s eyes were warm, a soft caramel brown that shined with obliviousness.

“I can finish this up tomorrow afternoon.” He said it loudly enough that he hoped you heard. Though he didn’t leave off with much more to say to you, he felt like the conversation wasn’t even close to over. That’s how it always goes with you - something left unsaid, unfinished. One of the two of you always has to leave and, this time, it’s him. “I’ll make you something good for dinner as a welcome back meal.”

“I thought you’d never offer.” Johnny turned back towards the entrance to the roof, then stopped a moment later and faced outwards again, taking in the view. “By the way… it’s really nice up here.”

Jaehyun turned as well, following the general sweep of Johnny’s gaze, except really looking towards where he stood talking with you a few minutes ago. To his disappointment, but no great surprise, you were gone. “Thanks. I guess it is.”

In your room, you’re alone. After feeling Jaehyun’s touch, a warmth you were no longer accustomed to feeling, your contactless existence felt even more hollow. You’ll meet with him tomorrow, you decided, if not just to brush your hand against his once more. Also, because you have to talk about him. About visiting your body. And about Johnny.

Johnny... he’s back. He’s here. The notion terrified you and excited you at the same time. If your sister sees him…

You supposed you’re not the only ghost around these parts anymore.

After talking with you today and then having spent time with Johnny, one of the warmest presences in his life, Jaehyun lied in bed at the end of the night feeling far more relaxed than he had for quite a few days. That is, until he dug out the piece of paper your sister had given him. With his phone in one hand and the paper with her number scrawled on it in the other, he hesitated. The message was fully typed out, just a “Hey, this is Jaehyun from down the hall. Could you send me what hospital and room number Y/N is in?” but he couldn’t send it. He preoccupied himself with double-triple-quadruple checking that he typed her number in correctly, read his message over and over again for grammar and spelling mistakes, dwelled on other ways he could phrase it.

He thought about the look in your eyes on the rooftop. Though you had asked him to go, that lack of conviction on your face was what was making this message take fifteen minutes to send instead of just one. He usually thought of himself as an optimist, though now his mind was in a jumble, trying to figure what would really be the best thing to do. His thoughts spiralled in and out of doubt, wondering if you truly wanted him to do this, wondering if this will even work. Wondering, once again, if history was repeating itself.

Then, he remembered some wise words from his grandmother. ‘If you can try, you should. It may just be worth it.’ Though she probably hadn’t meant that saying for something like this, they were the last push he needed. He pressed send.

You watched from the hallway between your room and your sister’s as her phone lit up. Her hair was arranged in its usual nighttime style and she was just about to crawl under the covers of her bed when her eyes caught on the received text message. The small, pleasant smile that graced her worn face made you mirror her look. You could only hope that the news makes her sleep well tonight.

The text that Jaehyun was greeted with, about five minutes after he sent his own, was very straightforward. It contained the exact information he had asked for, including the address of the hospital, and ended with a ‘I don’t know how you know her, but thank you for caring.’

That night, his dreams were soundless, sightless, but filled with a kind of warmth that he couldn’t describe with words. It wasn’t at all a nightmare, but he still woke up with a heavy feeling in his chest.

This time around, Jaehyun didn’t avoid meeting you. If anything, he stretched the definition of ‘afternoon’ to be far earlier than most people think of it. He arrived on the roof at 11:30 in the morning and, at first, shuffled around the area, absentmindedly staring at different pots and gardening fixtures that he’d installed up here as he wished that time would move faster. After about fifteen minutes were spent unproductively, he decided that he might as well make use of his time. He spent another hour and a half heaving the bags of fertilizer that he brought up previously to where he needed them, packed it into the planters, and pulled weeds. The manual labor made him work up a sweat. Though he had gotten into the habit of bringing his own towel to wipe it away, a part of him still wished he had your handkerchief. His thoughts briefly wandered to you again - how you had handed him the item, what it means to you - and that seemed to be enough to summon you.

From the doorway to the stairs, you stood watching him for a moment. He wiped away sweat, shined in the sun, still glistened slightly despite the hat that he had started wearing, and crouched in front of a planter so that he could get a better look at the nothing that appeared to be growing in it. He didn’t notice you at first because your footsteps were soundless.

“That’s where you planted them, right? The Four O’clocks?” You saw his muscles tense in surprise, though that was the most reaction you got for sneaking up on him. Still, an apology left your mouth. “Sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize, I just didn’t notice you until now.” His eyes shifted back to the planter in front of him. “And, yeah. They haven’t popped up yet for some reason, though. I’ll have to do more research.”

He stood, brushed his gloves against each other to get some of the extra dirt off, and removed them, stepping over towards where he had left some of his other stuff. As he walked, you trailed along next to him, watching the way a drop of sweat slid down from his hairline into his shirt. It had been a long time since you’d felt temperature - neither a cold breeze nor the sun’s warmth had touched your skin. You weren’t sure if you missed it or not. The only time you had really felt any heat were the times you touched-

The times you touched Jaehyun.

Something inside of you twinged with both pain and hope. If fate existed, he must be a sign of something good to come in your future, right? The key to all of this. Though just yesterday both of you realized that neither one of you had the answer to what was happening to you, you felt like all you could do was cling to even the smallest bit of feeling that he was returning to your life.

“I texted your sister.” He said, snapping you out of your thoughts. A small towel was in one of his hands, which he had clearly used to wipe away sweat while you were trapped in your thoughts. There was a small smile on his lips that you quickly mirrored.

“I know.” Slowly, you reached for his hands, taking one of them in your own, his palm gently held between yours. The warmth seemed to seep into your very being. You swore you could even feel the slight slick of sweat on his palms. “Jaehyun, thank you.”

He tilted his head and his smile became puzzled. “I haven’t even visited you yet.”

“Even just contacting my sister meant the world to her. And that means even more to me.” You tentatively released his hand, the feeling of aliveness quickly leaving your body. “When are you going to go?”

“I was thinking tomorrow.” The immediacy struck you. Tomorrow was so… soon. When you had forgotten your doubts for the last little while, they returned again.

“Tomorrow… tomorrow is good,” you forced yourself to say. The determination on his face told you more about him - once he’s set his mind on something, it’s hard to get him to diverge from that path. He was dead set on helping you.

Silence flowed between you for a moment, only the distant rushing of traffic from the small city below infiltrated the bubble of the rooftop. Jaehyun broke eye contact with you, his tongue flicking out as he nervously wetted his lips. “How do you know Johnny?”

You took a deep breath, like you would if you were trying to ease your nervousness when you were in your own body. “It’s not so much that I know him. It’s more my sister.” You stepped towards the railing at the edge of the building, looking out at the city and the blue sky above. It was far too early for a daytime moon, being a bit past noon. “They were a thing in high school. People really thought they would end up together forever, but college got in the way of that. Now, she’s with that… that piece of human trash that calls himself her boyfriend.” Though your tone had started off pleasant, wistful, remembering a softer past, it quickly turned bitter. Being stuck in the state you were in, you had spent more than enough time wandering aimlessly around your apartment, watching him do nothing all day, watching him waste time and resources. A part of you really believed that her current boyfriend was just a placeholder for the hole that Johnny left when he went away, but you didn’t tell Jaehyun that. It might be better just to leave your hypotheses to yourself for now.

Since you were staring out, speaking to the city air instead of facing Jaehyun, you couldn’t gauge his reaction. The more of your explanation he heard, the more surprise showed in his eyes. After you finished speaking, you took a moment, glared down at the city below, and then composed yourself and turned back around to look at him. He stepped forward, joining you against the railing. “That… explains a lot.” There was a strange smile on his face, like he was finally understanding something. “Johnny never really dated seriously in university. Always seemed kind of hung up on someone from the past. He never named her to me, in all the years I’ve known him.”

“You know him from college, then?”

He nodded. “Yeah. He’s my best friend. Small world, isn’t it?” You realized the particular irony of the statement to your situation, as you couldn’t leave this building, never mind the town, and let out a snort of laughter. “I guess that explains why he suggested we start the restaurant here.”

You stood in silence again, staring out at the rooftop garden instead of at the street below this time. Though some parts of the garden were still rough around the edges, it no longer looked like the roof was abandoned. The area teemed with new life, tiny splotches of green disrupting the brown of the soil and fertilizer as most everything that he’d planted had started growing by now. Everything except the Four O’clocks. “Jaehyun?” He looked towards you, humming in acknowledgment. “Even if visiting my body doesn’t help, I’m still glad that I met you.”

“If only it was under better circumstances,” he agrees. His eyes fell on the wall that led to where the mural was. “Hey, when you wake up, do you want to finish that mural? I think it would really tie this place together. I’ll even buy the paint for it.”

You looked in the same direction as him, the image of the unfinished painting clear in your head. Right now, you really had no desire to do anything with it, but you supposed that Jaehyun made a good point. “I guess. It would be nice to have a brush in my hand again.”

The sound of a car honking loudly from below shattered the tender moment, startling both of you. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out, glancing at the incoming message from Johnny.

‘Where do you want to go for lunch?’

“Shit.” He pushed off of the railing, standing up straight. “I forgot that I’m meeting up with Johnny and Mark in an hour.” He started to gather his stuff from the top of the crate where he had left it before glancing over and catching your eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow? You won’t run away again?”

You shook your head. “See you tomorrow, Jaehyun.”

When he walked to the roof exit, he turned around to look at you again. You were seated on the old crate that he first saw you on, in those same dark denim overall shorts with the paint splashes and white tee. Like you could sense him staring at you, you turned slightly. As you did so, your image seemed to waver slightly, as if the sunlight was moving through your opaque being; a strange mirage in the afternoon air. He blinked and you appeared normal again, so he raised a hand in a final farewell for the day. After you returned the gesture, he disappeared into the stairwell.

For the rest of the day, he intermittently thought of you. Johnny and Mark largely kept him distracted, helping him plan some of the items he’ll have on the menu of his restaurant, what the interior could look like, what to name it. As they drove around after lunch, the conversation shifted.

“Dude,” Mark said, “I heard that Ten is also in town right now. You should visit him.”

“I haven’t seen him in years.” Johnny said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “It would be nice to catch up.”

Jaehyun chimed in at that. “Ten from high school?”

“Yeah. I’m kind of surprised that you remember me talking about him.”

“Do you still talk to anyone else from back then?” There was a slight insistence to Jaehyun’s voice that perplexed Johnny. Jaehyun knew he probably shouldn’t have been pushing this hard, especially since his best friend never opened up to him about it before, but he couldn’t help it. “There’s this girl who lives on my floor who seems about your age.”

“Are you trying to get me to hook you up with someone? It’s about time.”

“No,” Jaehyun said firmly, his eyebrows furrowed. “And you know I wouldn’t have a problem with that if I wanted to talk to a girl.”

“Tell that to your ex. If I hadn’t pushed you to talk to her-”

“I don’t want to talk about her.” There was a snap to Jaehyun’s tone that he usually didn’t use and it cut off the conversation quickly. Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat, checking his phone. Jaehyun almost decided to drop the topic entirely, but he felt like he owed it to you to ask. “The girl from my floor is named S/N L/N.”

The tapping of his fingers against the wheel stopped. Slowly, Johnny’s grip tightened. Normally, Johnny was in complete control of his emotions. Now, he didn’t seem angry, but it clearly evoked something in him when Jaehyun said your sister’s name. “Yeah. I know her.”

Mark nudged Jaehyun, raising his eyebrows in an attempt to communicate with him nonverbally. Jaehyun ignored the signal. “Were you close?”

Johnny shrugged, forcing himself to relax slightly as he drove. “You could say that.”

No one spoke for a while, until a familiar, nostalgic song played on the radio, reigniting the conversation. Jaehyun planned on leaving the conversation at that, inviting the two over for dinner. As afternoon turned to evening, they returned to his apartment complex. When he stepped out of the car, he couldn't resist looking up. The roof seemed like such a long way from here. He shook his head slightly to clear it and led his friends to his apartment. The elevator ride was short and empty of anyone but them, with Mark gushing about eating his food again. When the doors opened to his floor, he got out and nearly walked right past her. Johnny didn’t, though.

As soon as he exited the elevator, his friend saw her. Jaehyun stopped walking when he saw that Johnny wasn't with him and Mark. Johnny was having some sort of staredown with your sister. She had the same bag on her shoulder that she did the last time Jaehyun saw her, though the sunglasses were missing this time, leaving her expressions largely unguarded.

She seemed to swallow heavily, taken aback by this ghost from the past. “John.”

“S/N.” All Jaehyun and Mark could do was watch. They stared at each other for a moment longer before Johnny once again forced himself to relax a bit and offered her a small smile. “Jaehyun was telling me about how you live on the same floor.” “What are you doing back here?” She said, cutting right to the chase. She seemed far more outwardly unhappy to see him than he did to see her.

“Visiting. Probably going to move back soon, though.” He was watching, carefully assessing her reaction. He stood tall, his hands in his pockets, casual. She appeared much more stiff, weighed down more by life than he had been in the years since they’d seen each other.

“I thought you wanted to get out of this town?” There was a certain bitterness to her voice that was very personal. Almost resentful.

“You still remember that?”

“How could I forget?”

Jaehyun and Mark glanced at each other, wondering if they should do something. At those words, though, Johnny’s smile brightened slightly. “I’m glad I’m unforgettable.”

“This isn’t about you anymore.” Johnny’s face fell slightly at that, eliminating the slight cheer that he had just gained. “I have to go.” As she reached the elevator, she turned back to them, looking Jaehyun in the eyes. Her eyes were piercing, though they didn’t seem to hold any malice, only confusion. “You’re really strange, Jaehyun.”

It crossed Jaehyun’s mind that he might have started something far beyond his depth or control. After the elevator doors closed with her behind them, Johnny turned back towards him and Mark. “Dinner?”

As he cooked, Jaehyun watched the sun set outside the window adjacent to the kitchen section of the apartment. From here, he couldn’t see if the moon was out yet, but he thought about it and he thought about you. He wondered if you were thinking about him, too.

The way you thought about Jaehyun was with the sort of desperation someone who was hanging onto the edge of a cliff thought about a rope. Right now, he was your lifeline for more reasons than one. In your dark room, the emptiness felt suffocating. You lied sideways on your bed, staring at the ceiling, untaken by the sleep you no longer require. Back when you were alive, you might have taken the time to paint him, capture the way he had made you feel in the short time you’ve known him and the few conversations you’ve had with him. Then, you would have opened your sketchbook and flipped through the drawings from better days, ignored the darker sketches of more recent times.

You wondered if your sister had flipped through those drawings since it happened, seen the last picture you created. It was a self-portrait of sorts, though your eyes were filled with black and your limbs were strung up like a marionette. Out of control in your own life, close to being soulless. You didn’t know nor remember what had possessed you to draw it and you wished you had finished with something brighter. It didn’t matter anyways - the book was stuck on your shelf with some of your other things, out of reach of your touchless world. What did matter was what’s going to happen tomorrow.

The more you thought about it, the more the doubts bounced around in the transparent space of wherever you would call your mind now, the more Jaehyun visiting your body in the hospital seemed like a terrible idea. It has been a long time that you’ve been like this and it’ll probably be an even longer time if you somehow wake up. You weren’t sure you were ready to be exhausted like that again.

You thought about your sister and her hunched figure over the dimly lit coffee table at night, the bills piling up, each dollar that leaves her bank account only adding a single grain of sand to the hourglass of the life she’s built here. She never really talked finances with you, but you knew it was never easy. You covered rent, but she tried to keep all of her other bills away from you. You dreaded more than wondered what would happen should that hourglass finally become empty. How much time does this life have left?

It only took you a moment to leave your room and reach her. She was exactly where you pictured her, though she wasn’t staring at the bills, trying to crunch numbers anymore. Her gaze was on her lump of a boyfriend asleep on the couch. “S/N,” you couldn’t help but whisper, “just leave him. Go to bed.”

For a heartbeat, it almost seemed like she heard you, or was at least about to pay herself a courtesy, as she rose from her place at the table and walked the short distance to the hallway adjoining the living area to the bedrooms. Then, she stopped, stared at the ground, and turned slightly, laying a hand on his shoulder. He began to stir as she spoke. “Honey…” the word rang bitter in your ears, “come to bed.”

The look he gave her through bleary eyes showed a type of spiritual rotting that had its roots deep in his core. “Bitch, I was asleep. Can’t you leave me in peace for one night?”

“You’ll sleep better in bed than on the couch…” The meekness with which she spoke had you curling your hands into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms. Both she and you knew that no matter what she did, she would always be wrong in his eyes. Always. If she hadn’t woken him, he would’ve gotten angry in the morning instead, bemoaning how she hadn’t woken him and gotten him to sleep on the bed instead. You’d seen that exact argument happen before. You couldn’t say how many times you’d seen this exact scene, too.

He grunted, slowly getting up. “Is that so?” He tilted his head, cracking his neck in something of a stretch. “You think you know better than me?”

“No,” she flinched as he raised a hand, “I’m sorry.”

The grin that filled his face wasn’t bright. It was crooked, sick, and it made you want to vomit when you knew you weren’t even capable of doing so. Back when they first started dating, he was much better at hiding the pleasure he takes in “besting” her, but now he didn’t even try. As he walked past her, he bumped her shoulder with his arm, making her draw herself in, attempting to minimize the space she took up. After he was gone, more safely away from her in their bedroom, she sank down onto the couch, wrapping her arms around her torso. She stared at the scattered bottles and trash on the small side table next to the soft. It took about a minute before she leaned forward, resting her face in her hands, slow tears falling down her cheeks. You couldn’t bear to look at her like this. Back when you were in your own body, you never knew she cried like this. When you couldn’t stand to watch the fighting without doing anything anymore, you would just lock yourself in your room and pray no one got hurt. Every bit of it, you regretted. You should’ve stood up to him more, stood by your sister, shared her pain. Regret was a bitter taste.

“Y/N,” you heard from her, a quiet plea into the night, “I’m sorry. Please come back.”

You’d heard her cry out for you before, but this time it hurt even more than usual. Your hands were still curled in fists and, after the feelings of regret and helplessness and pure rage boiled over, you lashed out, like you could hit one of the bottles on the table. The silence shattered as your hand made contact with the object, sending it clattering onto the wood surface of the side table, then rolling onto the floor. Your sister’s head snapped up, her eyes following the bottle. The last round of tears fell as she blinked rapidly and scrubbed at her eyes, trying to figure out what caused the bottle to move. She finally got up uneasily, now just dabbing gently at her eyes, before she picked up the bottle to dispose of it.

As she started to warily clean up the rest of the trash, you stared at your hands. There was no way…

It was late by the time your sister joined her boyfriend in bed and it was only slightly later when Jaehyun settled down to sleep. Johnny hadn’t spoken about Stella for the rest of the night and Jaehyun hadn’t asked. He agreed to meet him in two days to check out locations for the restaurant, and that was that. In some ways, he was grateful. The more he involved himself in this situation, the more he felt like everything was spiraling out of control. But, in the opposite way, he wished something more had changed. He just hoped that visiting your body will lead him to something better.

It took a little while, but he eventually fell asleep.

He didn’t remember arriving in the hospital, just opening the door to your room. Your hair was longer than it was when he saw you on the roof and you appeared almost skeletal, your cheekbones hollow and eye sockets sunken in deeper than they should be. Hadn’t the doctors been taking care of you?

When he leaned over, taking your hand, your eyes immediately flickered open, as if you’d been waiting for him. He blinked and you transformed, your skin glowing with life and hair full and luscious. “Jaehyun, you saved me.”

Your voice came out as a warble, confusing and bird-like. Not at all how you sounded when he talked to you before. He tried to speak, but you cut him off. “Y/N-” “You saved me, you saved me.” You repeated, the mantra becoming a sort of chant as you stared at him, unblinking. The fingers on the hand that he was still grasping began to turn into talons, sharp and digging into his skin. “You saved me, you saved me, you saved me.”

He awakened in a cold sweat and bolted into an upright sitting position. The city birds that hung out outside his window were chirping, faintly reminding him of the way your dream-self had sounded. He shivered and pressed his face into his hands. Why did he keep having nightmares about you?

The sunlight streaming through the window was a small comfort, reminding him that things were fine. He considered going back to sleep, but figured that if his body wanted him to get up, he might as well. From what he saw on the hospital website, visiting hours didn’t start for a little while, so he had time to get ready and do some work on the garden before he left. The physical labor took his mind off of things for a while, but the car ride to the hospital certainly didn’t. His car felt far too empty and quiet even with one of his favorite playlists on. He considered himself lucky that the drive was short, though most of the medical traffic for the more rural nearby towns flowed to this hospital because it’s the nearest city, small as it is. The parking garage felt miserable, drab and lifeless, and the inside of the hospital itself felt no different. Stark white, sterile except the dirt streaks on the tiles from visitors’ feet, walls largely undecorated save for large signs warning about various diseases.

The lady at the front desk didn’t ask too many questions when he signed in and said your name. She simply gave him a visitor pass and let him through, scrawling down his name in a sign-in book. Your room was on the fourth floor, so he made his way to the elevator, passing by a few people who appeared far more tired than he did. They’d clearly spent a lot of time here. Some had red eyes from crying, some were simply hunched over, staring at nothing. The elevator was empty and stayed that way for the entirety of his short ride. On the fourth floor, there were fewer people, these strangers milling and sitting about. One guy, maybe around his age, was seated on a bench, staring at an apple that Jaehyun assumed he had placed down next to him. He glanced at the strange boy but kept walking, eventually standing in front of the door that he had been directed to by both the check-in lady and your sister.

The doorknob turned easily, though the door creaked as he pushed it, showing signs of age that the hospital had tried to simply paint over. He let himself in and closed the door behind him, finally turning around and allowing himself to look at your body.

Thankfully, you weren’t as skeletal as he feared you would be. He almost laughed at how different the room arrangement was from his dream as well, the relief making him relax slightly. Your body looked to be in quite good shape despite the amount of time that you’d been in a coma. Patches of your hair were clearly shorter than the rest, where he assumed you had to have some sort of surgery, though signs of said operation were no longer quite visible. IVs were stuck in your skin, providing you with the fluids that you needed to stay alive. Whatever this version of alive was. Your skin didn’t have quite the same sheen to it that it did when he talked to you, but you looked largely the same, like you were asleep. It was almost strange for him to see you in different clothes than your usual paint-stained overalls and white tee, the blue and white hospital gown seeming unnatural. He had only ever seen you in the warm outside lighting of the rooftop, so seeing you under this white fluorescent lighting was almost a strain to his eyes. The thought crossed his mind that you looked far better surrounded by green and brown and blue than you did by all of this white.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said quietly, walking closer to your body. There was an empty vase at your bedside, so he opened his bag, revealing the flowers that he had purchased on the way here. It was a pretty standard arrangement of pink roses and baby’s breath, but it brightened the room immensely. “It’s kind of strange to see you here. I hope these help. I would have brought you flowers from the roof, but they aren’t ready yet. Sorry.”

He didn’t know what he was looking for as he talked. Maybe a flicker of your eyelids, a twitch of your fingers. The air conditioning kicked on suddenly and the blast of chilly air made a few locks of your hair shift ever so slightly, almost tricking him into thinking that you moved on your own. After waiting for a moment, he finally reached for your hand. Your skin was colder here than it was when he touched you before. Your hand slotted into his nicely, but it was limp, unresponsive. A few minutes of nothing passed, time he spent just looking at you and repeating ‘please wake up’ in his head, before he quietly tucked your hand back under the covers of your bed.

“I hope you wake up soon,” he said, “so we can properly meet.”

As he exited the room, he kept his head down, mindlessly walking back to where he remembered the elevator being. The hallway was straight and long and, with his lack of attention, he ended up slamming into someone’s shoulder relatively hard. Both he and the other person staggered slightly, stopping in their tracks.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking,” he said quickly, glancing sideways at the boy he had run into. He was the same guy he had seen sitting on the bench before, staring at the apple next to him. The look on his face was an extreme reaction, pure shock covering his features. Jaehyun cringed to himself. “Hey, I really didn’t mean-”

“You can see me. You can touch me.” The guy interrupted him, raising a hand to point at him. “It’s been so long since anyone’s been able to do that!” Oh shit.

“Look,” Jaehyun said quickly, panic immediately filling him, “I’m not trying to become some sort of ghost-whisperer. I’m already trying to help someone and I can’t handle more and more of you.”

“No, listen-” As Jaehyun tried to turn around, pretend like this never happened, the boy grabbed his arm, his fingers sharp as they dug into his skin slightly. “I saw you go into that girl’s room. From the sounds of it, you didn’t get what you wanted. I can help you.”

Jaehyun narrowed his eyes at that. “If you can help me, why are you still like this?”

“I can help you. And her.” Jaehyun’s eyes shifted towards the door that he had just left behind, then back to the boy gripping his arm. “But I need your help first.”

#btdm #beneath the daytime moon #jaehyun fic #nct fluff #nct angst #jaehyun scenarios #nct jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #btdm collab

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