#if i died a long time ago nobody would have to waste their time worrying about a lost cause like me

[daffodi1]

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[andorerso]

Rebelcaptain Whumptober: Day 22

for the prompt "Betrayal" Content warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, accidental murder, depression, grief, suicidal ideation, suicide. This one's heavy guys, please take care <3

“Stardust,” Papa says from the corner. Jyn tries not to look at him anymore; the image is too horrifying. His face is decaying, his eyes the milky blue of a corpse, and his clothes are torn and dirty. The same clothes he wore when he died in her arms… “Come join us.”

“We miss you,” Mama chimes in. Her appearance is the same as Papa’s. Jyn squeezes her eyes and attempts to ignore them. None of this is right. “We could be a family again.”

I already have a family. Jyn doesn’t say it. She doesn’t think she does. But Mama answers, “They’ll join us too, baby girl. You won’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“Wouldn’t it be better,” Papa continues, “if we were all together?”

Jyn pulls her legs to her chest and curls her body around it, pressing her head against her knees. The ground is dank under her. Mold is growing on the walls of this forgotten cell, the air stale, and her surroundings completely dark. They didn’t even give her a cot. She thinks she’s somewhere underground, and everything is deathly silent and still, like time itself has frozen. Is she the sole prisoner on this entire floor? How long ago did they throw her in here? How long has it been since she…

Last ate, last slept, last seen sunlight?

Could be days, could be weeks. She has no idea anymore. The blaster shot she took to the leg hasn’t killed her yet, but seeing her dead parents is probably not a good sign. Perhaps the burn is infected. Perhaps the imps gave her something. (Was there — an interrogation? Maybe… she thinks… A flash of cuffs snapping around her wrists… Real or not? She can’t recall.)

Perhaps she’s just losing her mind.

Mama and Papa keep watching from the corner, their eerie eyes burning a hole in her skin.

What do they want her to do?

“You know what to do,” Mama says. “You still have your vibroblade.”

Jyn reaches for the weapon, stashed in her breast band, and runs her fingers along the edge. It’s the one weapon they didn’t find when they captured her. She hadn’t used it, biding her time, waiting for the opportunity to strike. It was the only play she had left; it had to be perfect.

But now she regrets that decision. Should have just taken her chances and rolled with it. But she didn’t think they’d leave her here to waste away…

All alone in the dark.

“We’ll be here, Stardust,” Papa promises. His voice sounds closer than it did before, but she doesn’t raise her head to look at them, her eyes transfixed on the vibroblade. “We won’t let you die alone.”

A memory resurfaces. Scarif. The beach. Cassian. The warmth of his body against hers, the smell of blood, sweat, and blaster oil. She’d been content then. The blast was approaching, but she didn’t care. She was safe, she was home.

Now, it’s so cold. Jyn’s shivering in her thin jacket, her lips cracked and dry, her breathing slow and shallow. Papa’s promise doesn’t soothe her; her parents look like they stepped out of a nightmare rather than a comforting dream. This is nothing like the warm embrace of death on Scarif. Nothing so peaceful or kind.

Cassian’s face haunts her thoughts.

She can’t give up yet, can’t leave him…

“Foolish girl.” Jyn snaps her head up at the new voice, eyes widening. Her hand curls around the vibroblade as Krennic’s rotting face emerges from the shadows. “Nobody’s coming for you.”

“Stay away,” she snarls when he takes a step towards her. She presses her hand against her leg, hiding her weapon. Element of surprise. If he comes any closer, she’ll defend herself.

“Do you really think anybody cares about some stupid orphan girl? Nobody ever loved you enough to come back for you. Your mother would rather try to kill me than stay to protect you. Even your father abandoned you.” He pauses, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. “Both your fathers.”

Jyn holds her tongue, refusing to show that his aim hit true, but the words burrow deep and take root in her heart. Hadn’t she thought the same so many times? Didn’t she resent her parents for years and years? What if he was right… What if no one was coming? She would die here in the dark, only the dead to keep her company.

The blade bites into her palm as she clutches it, but she barely feels the sting. Krennic stops in front of her, so close now that his shoes, not as polished and shiny as it was in life, brush hers.

“Why would anybody come for you now?” He whispers, leaning down towards her. “For a worthless nobody. You’re alone, Jyn. I killed your mother. I stole your father. And if he comes for you, I’ll kill your lover too.”

Jyn pounces. She’ll be damned if she’ll let him touch Cassian.

Her blade pierces his jugular, and Krennic stumbles back a step. With wide eyes, he clutches at his neck, a gurgling noise building in his throat.

Then he falls down and stops moving. It’s over in less than a second.

Except the body on the ground isn’t Krennic. It’s Cassian.

Her heart stalls in her chest. Jyn stares for a long second, still clutching the vibroblade. Her brain doesn’t quite comprehend what she’s seeing, can’t make the puzzle pieces fit together.

It doesn’t make sense. Cassian isn’t here. She’s alone in her cell, hundreds and thousands of kilometers away, feverish and dazed and probably drugged.

This isn’t real.

It can’t be real. It’s another hallucination, a mirage, her brain working against her once again.

Shaking, Jyn falls to her knees in front of him, the blade slipping from her grasp with a loud clatter.

“It’s not real,” she mutters to herself as she cradles his cheek, but the image doesn’t change. His skin is still warm under her touch, blood painting her hands red. It’s not real. She squeezes her eyes shut, willing the illusion to fall away and reveal the truth. Some guard, maybe, coming to check up on her… Maybe nothing. Maybe it’s all an illusion. “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.”

She doesn’t open her eyes, but she knows the body under her hands hasn’t changed. She recognizes the shape of him, the feel of his skin on her hands, the lines of his jaw, the scratch of his stubble… It’s a deeper, base-level instinct. She knowshim.

Panic builds in her stomach. It can’t be real.

A hand reaches out to touch her shoulder, and she startles, grabbing her vibroblade again and slashing in an arc in front of her. The figure jumps back, and Jyn narrowly misses her target.

Bodhi stares at her with wide eyes, hands raised in front of him in a placating gesture. He says something but she doesn’t hear it through the white noise in her head. Her vision dims for a second, her chest heaving with quick, shallow breaths.

She can’t look at the body on the ground.

“It’s not real,” she gasps, her voice high, her chin quivering.

“It’s not,” Bodhi assures her, but his voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. There’s another figure at the door. Are they really here? She can’t tell anymore. Darkness begins to creep in at the edges. “It’s not real. Let us help you, Jyn.”

She doesn’t have the strength to answer.

The last thought she has before oblivion pulls her under is, it’s not real.

⁂

Everything is blurry after that. She slips in and out of consciousness, catching only brief glimpses of faces, conversations, surroundings.

(Bodhi blinking at her in worry. The hum of a ship’s engine. Someone holding her hand. A loud voice demanding, “What did she do?”

A clang. Shouting.

She’s crashing —

Cold. So much cold.

She’s dying. It feels like she’s dying.)

At one point, she wakes to bright lights above her head, a figure standing by her side, and something beeping in the background. Jyn squints, a groan tearing from her throat. The noise is too loud, the lights are too blinding. It feels like someone is drilling a hole into her skull.

She can’t feel her leg. Everything hurts, but the dull throbbing she’s gotten used to is gone.

“Jyn?” the figure speaks. She has to blink a few times before Bodhi’s face materializes under the harsh white lights. His face is pinched with worry, and dark circles decorate the skin under his eyes. “You’re on Hoth,” he continues in a soft but clear voice. “They’re about to wheel you in for surgery. Your leg’s infected, but they’re gonna do what they can, okay?”

“Cassian?” she croaks. Her throat is bone-dry and scratchy, but it’s the only question on her mind, and she has to know. “Did I… hurt Cassian?”

Bodhi’s face crumbles for a second. “You didn’t. Cassian’s fine. He was pulled into a meeting with Draven, but he’ll be here when you wake up.”

It wasn’t real.

With relief flooding her body, Jyn closes her eyes and lets herself be pulled under again.

⁂

Cassian’s not there when she wakes up.

It’s Bodhi again, blinking awake in the chair next to her when she tries to reach for the glass of water on the bedside table.

“Let me help.” He brings the glass to her lips and continues to talk as she eagerly gulps down big sips of water. “Surgery went well. They managed to save your leg. Just so. You had us worried for a second. You flatlined on the ship, you know. Twice.”

She hadn’t known. But that explains the way he’s looking at her, barely-contained grief hiding under his skin. She must have really scared them.

When the glass is empty, Bodhi reclaims his seat, and Jyn breathes in deeply, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. Her head feels clearer than it did the last time she woke. Her body is still weak and sore and aching in some places, but her mind is sharp. Sharper. She feels like herself again, though her memories are a little fuzzy, and her sense of time is jumbled. The puzzle pieces still don’t quite fit.

When she turns to face Bodhi, he’s watching her strangely. She has a dozen questions on her lips, and his apprehension only raises more.

“What happened?” she settles on eventually. She remembers her capture, but that’s the last thing she’s sure of.

“You were shot in the leg and captured. They gave you some psychoactive drug to question you. You were high when we found you, and it only made your injury worse. Jyn, I…” His eyes drop to the floor and refuses to meet hers again. A knot forms in her stomach at the tone of his voice. High with fear and grief. “I have to tell you something.”

And some part of her already knows.

Because he’s not here. And he should be.

“Where’s Cassian?” she asks without inflection, eerily calm for the situation.

Bodhi said — didn’t he say he’d be here? She’s almost certain she didn’t imagine that.

He should be here. He would be here, if she had nearly died, if she had nearly lost her leg…

Cassian would be by her side through it all. Unless he couldn’t, unless —

Bodhi doesn’t answer, still staring at the floor, and Jyn loses her patience.

“Bodhi!” The voice that tears out of her doesn’t sound like her own. “Tell me.”

Tell me he’s fine. Tell me it wasn’t me. Tell me I imagined it all. Tell me he’s just late or busy or on a mission. Tell me he just doesn’t want to see me, please tell me anything, anything

Bodhi crumbles, burying his head in his hands as a sob escapes him. She watches in slow motion like a crash she’s unable to stop, barely aware that she’s already shaking her head in denial.

“I’m sorry,” he cries, face hidden. “I’m so sorry.”

Jyn wishes she didn’t wake up.

⁂

Bodhi doesn’t tell her the details, but she knows what happened. It wasn’t some random mission while she was away, it wasn’t a tragic accident, or an unfortunate casualty.

She remembers it.

Remembers plunging the blade into Krennic’s — Cassian’s neck. His wide eyes as he fell. The gurgling noise he made.

In her head, she still sees Krennic. Can’t make sense of the idea that it was Cassian, that she could have done that.

It can’t be true please don’t let it

She doesn’t ask because a part of her hopes she’s wrong. (No, it’s not hope, not really. There’s no hope in her anymore. It’s just… a fantasy she clings to with tooth and nail while she can.)

But when Bodhi wheels her in to see his body, all pretenses fly out the window. Her breath catches, icy dread flooding her veins.

The jagged wound on his neck says everything it needs to.

Time itself stops as Jyn stares at the man she loves. The man who’s given her a home. Who taught her to be brave. Who broke down her walls and loved her so fiercely and came back for her time and time again.

He came back for her one last time. And it proved to be a fatal mistake.

“I did this?” Her lower lip trembles, her voice nothing more than a breathy gasp.

“You weren’t yourself —”

Placating words are the last thing she wants to hear. Temper flaring, she whips her head to snarl at Bodhi. “You said he was fine. You lied to me!”

“I —”

“Get out!” she yells in a voice she doesn’t recognize as her own. “Get out, get out, get out!”

Bodhi practically flees from the room, but not before she sees the grief and guilt shining in his eyes. She can’t find it in herself to care. Before the door even closes, she’s wheeling herself closer to the stretcher, her vision blurring as tears swim in her eyes.

Oh Force, what has she done…

Gently and with trembling hands, Jyn cradles his cheek, and a sob bursts out her lips. He’s so cold. So frighteningly still, so unnaturally pale. The only flash of color is the jagged red wound on his neck. Where she had slammed —

A whimper escapes her. He doesn’t look peaceful or like he’s sleeping or any of the other nonsense people sometimes say.

He looks dead.

Jyn gasps for breath, running her fingers through his hair. It’s just as soft as she remembers it. His lips quirked into a lopsided smile when she used to do that, his warm gaze sparkling with affection as he looked at her. But now his eyes are closed, his mouth doesn’t move, and his skin is cold as marble. Jyn raises his hand to her lips to kiss it, half-thinking that she can breathe some warmth into him, but it’s no use.

Cassian’s gone. Left without her. This body that remains is only a shell.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out through her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

How could she have done this? What he must have thought in that split second as he realized what she’d done. Betrayed by the one person who was supposed to love him the most…

More sobs spill through her lips. Jyn buries her head in the crook of his neck, clutching desperately at his shoulders like it could change anything. Turn back time or bring him back. If she just held him strong enough, if she wanted it badly enough… She could drag his soul back into his body, breathe life into him again.

“Please, I’m sorry, please come back. I’m sorry, Cass, I’m sorry, please…”

Cassian doesn’t move. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t wrap his arms around her and stroke her hair and tell her it’s all going to be okay. No matter how close she burrows into him, there’s nothing but the bone-chilling cold leeching through his skin.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this… please not like this

Should have listened to Mama and Papa after all, Jyn thinks as violent sobs rack her body. Should have joined them when they asked.

Cassian would still be alive.

⁂

They burn Cassian’s body in a small, unofficial ceremony that only she, Bodhi, Chirrut, Baze, and Melshi attend. She stands as far away from them as possible, clutching Cassian’s jacket around her body, and staring at the ground almost the entire time.

If she pretends it’s not happening, if she pretends she’s somewhere else, safe and warm in Cassian’s arms, it’s not real, right?

Bodhi says a few words that Jyn doesn’t hear. Chirrut talks about the Force, and she tries not to punch him because it’s not his fault, but she’s had enough of fairy tales. If the Force ever did exist, it sure seems like it fucking hates her.

When they ask if she wants to say anything, she declines.

Why would they want to hear anything from his murderer?

As the flames lick Cassian’s body, Jyn has a brief fantasy of throwing herself on the pyre with him. How fitting it would be. That’s how they were supposed to die on the beach; in the fiery embrace of the Death Star. Together.

Together is how they were supposed to go.

But, she thinks, they would stop her anyway. What’s the point? Everyone’s so fucking nice, so fucking understanding. They tell her it wasn’t her fault, that she didn’t know what she was doing, that she was drugged and hallucinating…

It doesn’t really matter though. It was still her hands that held the blade. Her hands that ended his life, stained with his blood. Only Melshi seems to be in agreement.

Afterward, he stops for a second by her side and just looks at her, his gaze burning with the poisonous anger she deserves. Jyn stares back with bleary, unblinking, dead eyes.

He doesn’t say anything, but she hears all his accusations.

Cassian trusted you. Loved you. Gave you a home. You killed him.

You killed him.

He hates her, and it’s almost a relief.

She hates herself too.

⁂

“Tell me,” Jyn asks, her back pressed against the wall on the cot she and Cassian used to share. The fur of his parka tickles her face as she shifts. The coat is too big for her frame, but she can’t part with it. It stills smells like him, a bit, if she closes her eyes, presses her nose against the fabric, and pretends.

Technically, it’s hers now, but she can’t bring herself to think of it that way. This room, his jackets, her heart… things he will always own, no matter how long he’s been gone.

Sitting across from her on a chair, Bodhi heaves a sigh. “I’ve told you —”

“Tell me again.”

He squeezes his eyes shut with a pained grimace but doesn’t object. “We found you underground in that cell, completely oblivious to our presence. You were muttering to yourself. It was clear you weren’t in the right state of mind, but Cassian was just… so relieved we found you alive.” Jyn presses her lips together and sinks her nails into her palm. “You told him to stay back, but it was obvious you didn’t really see him. He was sure he could get through to you. We didn’t see the vibroblade. I…”

He trails off, exhaling a shuddering breath. She knows she’s punishing him by making him relive it over and over again, but the vengeful part of her doesn’t care. He condemned her to a fate worse than death when he lied to her about Cassian, so the least he can give her is this.

“Keep going,” she tells him.

“Jyn —”

“Keep. going.”

“You lunged,” he continues. He’s told the story over a dozen times, but it has yet to stop feeling like someone was carving her heart out of her chest. “It happened so fast, nobody had the time to react. Then…”

“Bodhi,” she warns when he stops again.

“You stabbed him in the neck,” he says, and Jyn squeezes her eyes shut. In her mind, she sees it. Not from her perspective, but as an outsider: Jyn lunging at Cassian, plunging the vibroblade into his throat. Cassian, falling, Jyn, standing over him with a bloody knife. Jyn, realizing the body on the floor was Cassian. Jyn, convincing herself it wasn’t real.

It plays in her mind on repeat; Jyn Erso, best hits. She can’t turn it off.

In all honesty, she doesn’t want to.

“He fell to the ground,” Bodhi goes on, “and that’s when you seemed to realize… You know the rest.”

“Yeah,” she snorts, opening her eyes. “Like how you lied to me.”

You were dying, Bodhi had said later, when she finally had the stomach to look at him again. You flatlined twice, and I was afraid… if I told you, you wouldn’t have wanted to survive.

Well, he was damn right about that. Every day is a struggle. Get out of bed, finish her daily assignments, wander the base like a lost person, think about Cassian. Think about what she did. Sleep. Or try to sleep. She doesn’t remember the last time she did. Isn’t even sure how long it’s been since Cassian —

Weeks, definitely. But time blurs. Maybe, she muses sometimes, maybe she’s still back at that Imperial base, and none of this is real. Nobody came for her, and she’s a prisoner trapped in her mind, living this nightmare.

It probably says something about her that she deeply wishes it was true.

“I’m sorry —” Bodhi begins, but she cuts him off.

“Don’t. I will never forgive you.”

But he’s not the villain here, not really. She is.

Jyn closes her eyes again, knocking her head against the wall as she pictures that day once more from the beginning. Jyn crouching on the floor with her blade. Cassian approaching with his hands held up. Jyn lunging —

“What are you doing?” Bodhi asks.

“I’m trying to picture it,” she answers honestly, and she can practically feel the confusion and concern radiating off him in waves. He still cares, even after everything.

She really wishes he didn’t. Hasn’t he realized that she’s only capable of hurting people?

“Why?”

Jyn doesn’t answer, but her eyes blink open.

“Tell me again,” she says.

⁂

She hears people whisper behind her back as she roams the base like a ghost.

Look. There she goes. Look at her.

Wait, is that —

Yes.

Didn’t she —

Yes.

Isn’t that Jyn Erso, daughter of the man who built the Death Star?

Didn’t she risk her life on Scarif to find the plans?

Didn’t she kill her own husband?

It hurts like nothing in her life ever has, but she doesn’t want the pain to end, and she refuses to learn to live around it. Chirrut tries to tell her to meditate, Bodhi tries to tell her to see a professional, but she laughs them off and avoids them instead. She doesn’t want to move on. She doesn’t want to be okay. She wants it to keep hurting forever, wants his absence to haunt her for the rest of her life, and his face to swim before her eyes every time she closes them.

The only medication she needs is a bottle of whiskey to help her fall asleep.

At night, when she does manage to get some shuteye, she stops dreaming about that day. Instead, she dreams about Cassian. He stands in the doorway of their room, looking the same as her parents had; a hazy film of blue over his eyes, his face rotting, his clothes torn, his smile sad. The gash on his neck is a constant reminder of what she’s done, but he never yells at her or accuses her of killing him.

Instead, he just tells her, “I miss you, Jyn. Come home,” and she knows what he’s asking.

Home is nothing but ashes in an urn. Home is gone.

And home is calling her back.

⁂

“I forgive you,” Jyn says when Bodhi’s door opens with a swoosh. He blinks at her in surprise, lips pulling into a frown.

“What?”

“I said I forgive you. And I want you to have this.” She pushes her necklace into his hands and hesitates, for a second, as he looks down and runs his thumb over the kyber. Her heart twists painfully for a second, but she knows it’ll be in good hands with him. It hasn’t given her comfort in months anyway.

So… what else is there left to do?

When she turns to leave, Bodhi calls after her. “Jyn! Wait. What are you doing?”

She hesitates, glancing around the empty hallway as she pulls Cassian’s parka tighter around her body. “I can’t stay here.”

It doesn’t feel right, not without him, and it’s time to do something about it.

“But your necklace…” He holds it out to her, concern marring his features. Jyn grabs his hand and curls his fingers around the crystal.

“It’s yours now.”

His gaze sweeps across her face, searching for something.

“Will you forgive yourself?” he asks. Jyn gives him a humorless smile.

“You know I can’t.”

“Cassian would forgive you.”

“I know.”

And that’s what makes it worse. He’d loved her until his last moments, and beyond that.

She can’t live with betraying that trust.

“Where are you going?” Bodhi wonders, voice tinged with a hint of sadness. He’s going to miss her, she knows, even despite the way she’s been treating him these past few months.

It’s selfish of her, but the thought is comforting.

“Somewhere far away from here.”

“Will I see you again?” he asks, but his tone suggests he already knows the answer. A small smile curls on her mouth. It’s a sad one, meant for goodbye, but it’s the first genuine smile that graced her lips since Cassian passed.

A weight has been lifted off her chest since she decided to leave. The grief lingers, but she can finally breathe again.

“I don’t think so.” She takes a deep breath and turns before her expression can betray her. “Take care of yourself, Bodhi.”

⁂

It ends the same it did for him.

In a way, it has ended already. She was dead the second he took his last breath, and everything else after that was just a long encore. A ghost who was forced to keep living without a heart.

But Jyn was never meant to survive without him. It was together, or not at all; she’s made that choice a long time ago.

So she twirls her vibroblade in her hand, the same that ended his life, and puts it against her throat.

Cassian is waiting.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

It was night...

Warnings: heavy angst

I listened to this while writing. You will probably cry as much as I did.

And this concludes my Xue Yang writing era because I genuinely cannot emotionally take this anymore, lol

Good luck to y'all - and, as always, enjoy <3

Wen Ning walked into the Cloud Recesses, a muted expression on his pale face, eyes fixated ahead, like he was unseeing. Black streaks of blood had long dried on his lifeless skin, leaving dark splotches underneath his eyes.

His body felt heavy, heavier than it ever had. Everything felt impossibly heavy, every step, every blink, every move.

Lan Sizhui - A-Yuan - rested in his arms, peaceful, as if asleep. Wen Ning held him like he often did when he was a child, telling him stories to sleep and promising to protect him from the monsters that lurked in the darkness of the Burial Mounds.

But this time, A-Yuan wasn't sleeping. His eyes weren't closed because he was enjoying a restful slumber, and his lips weren't pulled into a soft, serene smile because he was enjoying his dreams. He wasn't unmoving because he was deeply asleep.

Wen Ning carried him, heavy and limp, through the Cloud Recesses - passing by the bunny field where he used to frolic as a child, passing by the training grounds where he learned to hold his sword, passing by the classroom where he drew his first characters.

Wen Ning walked, unseeing, through the night, through the pathways he had grown so accustomed to - because kind people allowed him to. Because kind people loved and trusted him.

Because kind people believed he would protect their little one, he would let no harm come to him.

Because kind people had been wrong.

Wen Ning had been weak, helpless, all his reputation for nothing as his very last nephew, his very last living relative was killed right in front of him.

All he could do was watch.

Wen Chao had been right, back then. Wen Ning was useless. A waste of space that should have never even existed. If he hadn't existed, perhaps A-Yuan would have never left the Cloud Recesses.

Perhaps he would have still been alive.

Wen Ning walked through the Cloud Recesses, quiet, black rivulets falling from his eyes, carrying little A-Yuan, nearly weightless, in his arms. Little A-Yuan who he died for, who he lived for. Who he couldn't save.

Little A-Yuan who told him I love you before he died. Little A-Yuan who smiled and asked him not to be upset, and not to worry, because Hanguang-Jun and Senior Wei would understand.

Little A-Yuan who thanked him and apologized.

Little A-Yuan who's dead.

The door to the jingshi opened before Wen Ning had the chance to announce his presence - and he saw the way Wei Wuxian's smile broke off his face, eyes wide at the display in front of him.

He saw the tearful, desperate question in his eyes and how he understood everything much too quickly when Wen Ning didn't reply, falling to his knees with a scream of his little one's name.

Hanguang-Jun rushed to the door - and he froze in place too, much like his husband had. In all his glory, in all his strength and beauty, he stumbled back two steps, his face as pale as his robes, tears falling freely down his face as he extended his arms and Wen Ning handed him the body of his little boy, now grown, and cold, and dead.

A wounded sound left him, so low and painful, as he sat, there, in the jingshi's doorway - the doorway where A-Yuan used to run through with flowers and frogs and questions - and stroked his son's face, shaking so badly as he took in the damage.

Wei Wuxian hadn't stopped screaming and crying all the while, clawing at Wen Ning and asking what happened, why, who did this, why didn't you save him, where were you, why weren't you there?!

But Wen Ning couldn't respond, his face wet with dark tears, and Wei Wuxian felt like the world had ended for him again, like it had many years ago. Nobody had any answers for him and he was left to grapple with the loss, with A-Yuan's death and the reality of what it meant. With the fact that he'd never see him again, he'd never hear his laughter or have tea with him, he'd never share space and life and memories with him.

He let go of Wen Ning, and turned to where his husband cradled their son's body, and there was nothing more he wanted than to be dead in his place. He had been so happy, so beyond relieved, when he learned Lan Zhan had saved A-Yuan from the Burial Mounds and took him in, raised him and loved him where Wei Wuxian and the Wens couldn't. He had felt like the world fell in place perfectly, like the pieces of his life finally came together.

It was all over now.

He touched the boy's hand and hoped that, perhaps, everybody had been wrong. Perhaps he was still alive, and Wei Wuxian would feel warmth beneath his fingers, and the youthful thrum of a pulse. He gently caressed cold, unmoving knuckles instead.

He dragged himself over the floor, next to his husband, and they sat like that, holding their boy and rocking him as if he was struggling to fall asleep, talking to him quietly through sobs, asking for forgiveness, telling him they love him.

Wen Ning knew he had to tell them A-Yuan's last words.

He had to.

Thank you for taking care of me, for loving me, for being my family. Thank you for giving me a home, and a place in the world. I'm grateful. And I love you.

He couldn't.

He couldn't not even as night turned to day and the sun began to peek from underneath the hills and the tall trees.

A single ray of sunshine glinted inside an unshed tear in the corner of A-Yuan's left eye.

Wen Ning watched it fall.

[beautiful-morningstar]

☆༒☬𝕿һᥱ 𝕯rᥲg᥆ᥒ ᥆𝖿 𝗍һᥱ 𝕾𝗍ᥲrs☬༒☆

Three hundred years ago there were two powerful celestial beings that lived together in harmony: The Diviner and Stargazer. Despite the hardships the two had faced, the dragon took the siren as his mate, the two could not seem to exist without one another, and the world around them shuddered in jealousy. The siren was like a sun to those who looked upon him, radiant and everlasting, and his light drew many who longed to grasp him for themselves. However, the dragon kept the beautiful one safe and they lived happily for a very long time. Years went by but their peaceful isolation came to an abrupt halt when the neighboring emperor learned of a man so beautiful that even women dulled in comparison. Emperor Mingzhu ordered for the capture of the siren and once they found him wandering the market to get supplies for dinner, they dragged him against his will to the monarch, who then ordered that the fairest would belong to his family from then on. 

The dragon became enraged, seeking out Mingzhu and laying waste to his kingdom, and everyone in it. However, this was not enough to save the sun, for the eldest prince of Mingzhu: Tazhou - stabbed the mortal sun in front of the sorrowful dragon provoking him into a mindless rage.

Tazhou died that day but so did the Diviner. The dragon would soon try to follow, but a shadowy cat stepped forth to stop him, a demon named Manya. The cat promised that the sun would return in 300 years if the dragon would wait, reluctantly with some coercion from the cat, the dragon agreed to wait. So they took and made a temple; a large lavish estate for the brokenhearted Stargazer to wait in – and Manya sought out a family that would work as a vessel to pass down the soul of his beloved. This family was blessed with the dragon’s favor and as a result they were successful in their endeavors for many, many generations. 

( 300 Years Later )

“That’s bullshit!” A female’s voice ruptured the silence like a bugle horn in the night, shattering what little peace there had been in the busy home only moments before, each member of the family paused with their forks only inches from their mouths. “I don’t want to marry a spirit! This is stupid! I’m 20 years old, I’m in the prime of my life, and I haven’t even finished college!” The outraged blonde was the youngest sibling in a household of three and she’d merely been chosen because she was the only girl. 

“You can’t be serious–” A soft and beautiful voice piped in shortly afterward, amethyst hues glower in concern to their awkward parents, who were doing their best to come up with a way to smooth this over without incidents. “You can’t just use Skyla as a bartering tool!” 

“The dragon is growing tired of waiting, Iziryia. The three hundred year wait is over – we have to give him something – and Sky is our only hope. If she doesn’t go: we’re losing our lives – literally.” Kalani (his mother) said over her cup of coffee, she had nothing else she could really say other than that, because nothing could be done. “We have no other choice–” 

“I’ll go in her place.” Iziryia spoke firmly, they were a very powerful and wealthy family, and their son was very well off himself. He ran his own fashion industry and alchemic company, he was sought after by many for his dazzling good looks, and despite being 34 – he didn’t look much older than his younger sister who eyed him in confusion. 

“WHAT?!” 

“Skyla’s too young to get married and I’m just as pretty as any girl, if not better! Let me go in her place, I’ll convince the dragon to stay with our family, and then there’s no harm done. Nobody has to lose anything.” He twirled a lock of golden hair around his finger, looking at the faces of his worried parents, before Yasuhiro (his father) finally cleared his throat after what seemed like an eternity. “I’m not letting my baby sister get sold off as nothing more than a tool to keep our family’s great fortune.” He said hotly, disapproving of his parents’ greed, but he pushed himself up from their table nonetheless and turned to leave. 

After he got everything packed up, Hawkins (their chauffeur) helped load the bags into the family Mercedes, and took the long drive up to the temple of the Stargazer. During the three hour drive Hawkins filled Izzy in on what all he knew about the dragon (which wasn’t much) and once again questioned if he was absolutely sure about doing this. He refused to be talked out of it though. 

Three hours later he was standing in a practically deserted temple courtyard with his bags around him, feeling very isolated and alone. He was just about to go inside after a curt knock to the door, however it flung open hard, with a chilly voice speaking out from the dark. “Are you from the Nereidine household?” 

“Yes?” 

“Come in.” The blonde swallowed thickly, then was pushed in by some unseen force, were those shadows? A chill went down his spine as the foyer lit up with torches to either side of him. This entire place felt spooky. “The dragon will see you now, this way.” He followed the sound of a trilling cat into a lavish, luxurious throne room that nearly made his jaw drop. This place was…otherworldly in its beauty. Purple hues glanced at the black cat that easily closed the distance in the room to a large gray man settled in the throne, looking bored and done with life. “I brought the arrival~” 

So the cat was talking! 

Iziryia remained silent, gazing upon the gorgeous man who now regarded him with a pensive stare, and waited for the worst.

[a-drabble-a-dray]

.

“That will be all.”

The streets were quiet. He walked away from the corpse, even as the blood bubbled and boiled out into blackened nothing.

“...It would be.”  He paused. His footsteps rasped against the wet asphalt, carefully tapping against the dumpster at the back of the alley. His eyes trailed down. “But there’s more, of course. Isn’t there?”

The figure hiding behind the garbage container slowly, hesitantly stepped out. 

He sighed, closing his eyes.

“I-I didn’t see anything!” The young woman claimed, shaking. “N-Nobody died here, that’s for sure!”

“Died how?” He raised an eyebrow, barely visible under the tinted glass mask.

“Stabb– Oh shit.” She flinched.

“Here.” He slowly removed his gloves. “Can you hold these for me?”

She gripped them, looking down at the black leather, then back up at the expressionless mask.

“I…” He sighed, taking a step back. “I think you understand what happens next.”

“You… Let me go?”

“I hate the idea of other people paying for my mistakes, but…” He scratched the back of his head. “I promise the damage will be minimized. Okay?”

Her nails dug into the gloves. 

“I… Can’t allow myself to be exposed. No matter what.” He explained, voice strained. “But I can make sure the pay for this hit will cover up anything that happens after this. It’ll all go to your family.”

“Y-You…” Her voice trembled. 

“I’m sorry.”

She flinched as he raised his hand, only for it to slowly lower back down.

“Please don’t look at me like that.”

“...”

“You’ve… You’ve lived more than most people. I can tell you that, for sure. Even if you, well, haven’t been around all that long.” His fists clenched as his statements slowly became more personal. “Most people could only imagine a life as interesting as yours. You’ve lived a different dream every week. …Do you know why?”

“Huh…?” She could feel her tension receding, even if only a little.

“Because there are few people on this world who really aren’t afraid of living. You are one of them.  You’ve always done things on your own terms. And…” He hesitated. “The people in your life are better for it.”

She blinked.

“Your choice to be yourself is what drives forward those around you. You are the wind and the light, the promise that life can be so much more.” He paused. “...Does that make sense?”

“I-I don’t know…”

“Then, let me put it like this…” He stepped closer. “People are happier because they met you. You’ve made others’ worlds better by existing.”

“O-Oh…”

“That’s my assurance… And that’s my regret. You will be missed, but you will be remembered. Your light will live on in the people whose lives you’ve touched. So…” 

She shut her eyes, almost whispering. “...Go ahead.”

He sighed. With a click, Arc removed the mask, so he could properly look her in the eyes. “...Don’t worry, Zoe.” He stated, his hand warm against her cheek in the drizzling rain. “I promise I won’t forget you.”

The two pretended she wasn’t smiling.

He took all the care he could. The black dust spreading from his touch numbed her skin, and the spikes growing from her shadow took carefully traced paths. No more pain than necessary. No collateral damage. 

He didn’t look away from her eyes until their light flickered out.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out.

She crumpled down as soon as the spikes dissipated.

His hands twitched after the effort.

She almost looked asleep.

He put his gloves and mask back on. There was a pang of guilt at only exposing himself for someone who wouldn’t be leaving alive. Unfortunately, his work still had only begun.

“...Hello?” He wasted no time in tracking down the correct number to call. “Yes, I would like to speak with Mrs. Albright?”

“...”

“...Of course. Take your time.”

“...it.”

“Yes, hello. I believe I have some news for–”

“...Wait!”

“Bwuh!?” He dropped his phone, making sure whatever grabbed his leg didn’t also hear him squeal.

He was doubly startled by the faint voice he heard. “...H-Hold on, don’t… She doesn’t…”

He blinked. “...What the hell?”

The body that was limp a minute ago reached over to hang up the call. “Don’t… Tell her…”

“...What?”

The voice became clearer, and only more disturbing in the process. “It’s just…”

“...Zoe?” He asked, trying not to look into the same eyes he had just seen die.

“Oh, hey, um…” She squirmed, as if recovering her movement. “I-I kinda forgot to tell you that it might… Not… Work?”

“...W-What wouldn’t?”

“Well, the killing part?”

“What.”

“Y-Yeah, well, um…” She struggled to sit up, finally able to properly look up at him, blushing even though she shouldn’t have the blood to do so. “S-So, about all those things you said?”

He had been working this job for years.

That night was the fastest he ever ran from a crime scene.

[thetargaryenbride]

You Are Worth It [Levi x Reader]

Summary: You were ready to do anything for this man and if that meant defending him from your own comrades, then so be it.

Set before and during the No Regrets OVA

This is for @vennilavee  ‘s Writing Challange. I had fun writing~ 

This scenario is actually a part of my OC’s story BUT I decided to change it up a bit here and there and make it into a Levi x Reader instead. Enjoy!

Word Count: 7646

Warnings: Violence, Vulgarity, Profanity, some gore, some harassment

Pairing: Levi x Fem!Reader

Feedback is deeply appreciated~!

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡ 

❅

The Underground.

It was a foul place – lawless – full of thugs, drunkards and creeps. Unfortunately, it was also the home of women who most of the time had no other choice but to sell themselves, it was the home of sick people who only wished to glimpse the sun, and it was the home of malnourished orphans who died like flies in the dirty streets. And nobody was doing anything to help those in need.

Nobody but you.

You remembered the first time you set foot in the Underground. You were just but a little girl, holding tightly your step-mother’s hand as she made her way through the muddy streets, not caring whether her dress would get dirtied. You smiled fondly at the memory. Your step-mother’s friend had lost the rights to her citizenship and was hurdled into the clutches of the Kingdom of Shadows, being forced to work as a prostitute. But the two women kept being friends and your step-mother frequently visited to bring her food. You went only once but it was more than enough to break the pretty picture you’ve imagined – of a place safely tucked below the Inner Walls, with glowing crystals and beautifully shaped stalagmites. It was a hellhole.

You still thought of yourself as a little, naïve girl. You blamed your parents’ coddling. You were supposed to be more aware of the real world as a teen and almost young adult. You wanted to know the truth and the horrors that accompanied each day. That was one of the reasons you also wanted to join the Survey Corps. But you had promised to yourself that you’d join after you face the hell that is the Underground and after you offer some help to those who need it. After all, how could you fight and protect people from the Titans, if you couldn’t even protect them from fellow humans?

“Listen now, little lady, I know that you wanna do some charity shit down here but we also have work to do instead of escorting you. Just because your father is the Deputy Commander-,” grumbled the Military Police soldier from behind you but you didn’t pay him any attention. Instead, your ears strained to hear another sound – a child crying. You hushed the soldier and before he had the chance to give you some scathing remark, you walked away from him and towards the sound. The alleys were too narrow and the repugnant smell of piss and alcohol was heavy in the air but you tried your best to ignore it and kept walking. Turning right, then left, you came to a dead end. And there it was – the child – crouching on the ground with his knees pressed to his chest and little hands rubbing at his eyes.

You approached slowly and knelt down, your gown puddling all around you, the light blue fabric immediately getting mudded and dirtied.

“It’s all right. I’m here. No one is going to hurt you. I got some food too,” you spoke gently as to not startle him as your hand took out an apple from your bag and handed it to the child. He looked at you with big eyes and you offered an encouraging smile. That smile fell off your face the second you heard the clicking of a gun right behind your head. It pressed against you roughly, almost ruining your perfect bun. The child simply stood up and ran away.

“Now, don’t move, pretty thing. We don’t want to accidentally blast your head, do we?” came in a man’s gravelly voice, sending shivers down your spine. You dared not move as you felt him getting closer, his breath tickling your neck. “Ya better get those money ready, lass," he hissed out and you willed your body to stop shaking. It was impossible. Were you going to go out like this? Murdered by some thugs? Were you going to rot in this very same alley? Before you got the chance to see the outside world?

There was a swooshing sound. You closed your eyes, anticipating the worst, but then strangled grunts and coughing was heard, making you snap your head in the direction of the sound. Your eyes widened as you saw the two men fall dead on the ground, clothes soaking with the crimson blood that leaked from their throats, some managing to drop onto your cheek. Your eyes focused on a third man who was cleaning his knife. He didn’t pay you attention as he pocketed it and turned his back on you, ready to walk away.

“W-wait!” you called out and he halted. Let me at least see your face. Let me at least learn your name. “You saved me… I-“ you stuttered out but he interrupted you roughly, turning around to look you in the eyes. He was the most handsome man you’ve laid eyes on. The pampered, powdered noble boys couldn’t hold a candle to his rugged looks and the aura he was giving off. He had raven hair, locks falling around his eyes, pale skin and sharp eyes the color of a stormy sky. His clothes were a little bit baggy but even like this you could tell his body was built nicely so you assumed that he was a thug as well. Speaking of clothes, his were way too clean and pristine for someone living in such a filthy place.

“Don’t waste your breath. Go back upstairs to your gold and fine porcelain. You don’t belong here,” he spat out and your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly stood up, coming face to face with him.

“I’m sorry but you can’t say where I do or do not belong to. Maybe I don’t really fancy the world you speak of,” you told him firmly and his gaze lingered on your for awhile.

“You’re a lunatic then,” were his last words before he walked away.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

You didn’t listen to the man. One bad experience and some rude words weren’t enough to convince you otherwise. In fact, that made you more stubborn and you soon found your way in the Underground once again. This time you carried a knife. Your grandfather had taught you how to throw them and you regretted not bringing one last time.

The day passed by in a blur. The heavy bag full of bread and left-over pastries from your family’s bakery was now empty and you were ready to head back home and take a long bath. But you stopped when you heard a commotion. You bit your lip. You didn’t want to risk getting caught up in something again. But your heart was beating faster and your body felt warmer the closer the sound got and you supposed that there was some supernatural force that was pulling you towards it. Soon enough, you found yourself in the midst of a brutal brawl. The same guy who saved you a few days ago was being ganged up on. He was surprisingly holding his ground, sending lethal punches and kicks his enemies’ way. But you should’ve known they would fight dirty as one of the members sneaked behind the guy and prepared to shoot him in the back.

Your body moved before you even ordered it to, hand grabbing the knife hidden in the pocket of your dress and throwing it. It embedded into the head of the thug and he fell. Everything stopped for awhile. You could see the two members of the group looking at you with both shock and rage. You could see the surprised expression on the guy’s face, his arm up in mid-punch. Then there was a bang and you felt a searing pain in your middle region. Your vision blurred and the last thing you saw was the guy who saved you pummel the remaining members of the gang to death and scream something at you.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

When your eyes fluttered open, they saw an unfamiliar ceiling. Your first instinct was to stand up and run but your body was too tired and the only thing you managed to do was shift and move your head.

“Finally awake?” came in a voice and you gasped as you saw the same guy. Had he saved you? What exactly happened in the first place? You wanted to ask him multiple questions but the one you settled on was:

“Are you all right?”

He shot you an incredulous look.

“You were the one who got shot, dumbass. Worry about yourself,” he grumbled, furrowing his brows and you let out a weak chuckle.

“You are right… You know, we’ve saved each other’s lives so many times already and yet I do not know your name.”

“It’s Levi,” he answered your silent question and you smiled as bright as you could.

“Nice to meet you, Levi! My name is Y/N! Y/F/N!”

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared at you, a spark of what seemed to be recognition, relief and even fondness could be seen deep within. He uncrossed his arms and walked out of the room. You counted the minutes awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers or clenching and unclenching the sheets, before you finally decided to sit up. It was a struggle. The bullet had got you in the upper stomach but apparently he had nursed you back to health. You noticed that your torso was neatly covered in clean bandages as the blankets slid down a bit, making you shiver at the bareness of your arms. You blushed at the thought of him seeing you like this but nothing could be done. And you didn’t care that much about dignity and nudity when it came down to saving lives – others’ or your own.

Your thoughts were interrupted when he walked in the room, carrying a plate with peeled and sliced apples. For a moment, he stood by the doorframe simply watching you, before he made his way towards you and sat on the corner of the bed, placing the plate on your lap and outstretching his other hand. Your eyes fell on what he was holding and you gasped as memories from years ago flooded you.  

The day when you had been so curious you had begged your step-mother to take you with her. She had agreed and you had made your way to the Underground. You had stuck close to her as she walked into what you now knew was a brothel.

❅ 

“Carol! It’s so good to see you!” exclaimed your step-mom and the other woman chuckled as she gave her a hug.

“You didn’t have to bring so much food again. I’m so grateful to have you.”

You smiled as you watched the two women converse but your attention was stolen by a figure in your periphery vision, making you completely turn around. It was a boy. He didn’t seem to be much older than you. He was wearing a ragged shirt that reached his knees and some worn out pants but his hair looked clean and neatly cut. He watched you shyly, interest sparkling in his eyes as he took in your appearance. He had probably never seen a noble in such a place. You smiled and waved at him and he mirrored you after his hesitation worn off. You took a few steps forward and smiled brightly at him.

“Hi, there! What is your name?”

“Levi,” he uttered and you put your hands on your hips. You probably looked ridiculous – a child with lots of baby fat, trying to look and give off a motherly aura.

“You are very thin, Levi. That just can’t do!” you exclaimed in disapproval as you reached into the bag of food your step-mom had brought, taking out a few apples and placing them in your white apron. You neared the boy and beckoned him to take them. “Here, take these! Dad always says that an apple a day keeps the doctor away!” you grinned.

He gulped and his hands trembled a bit when he took the fruits from you, eyes gazing into your own with such gratitude and respect. And because you were so focused on his features, you noticed some smudged dirt on his left cheek. You clicked your tongue as you grabbed a handkerchief from your pocket and proceeded to wipe his face since his arms were busy balancing the apples from falling out of his grip.

“You got some dirt here. It’s very important to stay clean, you know,” you told him gently and he nodded.

“My mother says the same,” he whispered and you smiled as you tucked your handkerchief in his pocket.

“Then you keep this and make sure to stay clean,” you smiled at him before your step-mom called you and you had to bid him goodbye.

“Wait!” he called out and you looked at him over your shoulder. “What’s your name?” he asked timidly and you grinned at him again.

“Y/N! Y/F/N! It was nice meeting you, Levi! I hope we can meet again!”

❅

But you never met him again. When next time your step-mom had returned from her visit and you had asked about the boy, she said he was nowhere to be found but there was a rumor that one of the women working there had passed away and her child had disappeared.

“We meet again,” you sent him a watery smile as tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. You didn’t know why, they just did. You never pegged yourself as an overly emotional person but life was a mysterious companion.

“Yeah,” drawled the man quietly and for the first time since you’ve met, that permanent frown was replaced by a small, soft smile.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

Since that fateful meeting, your visits to the Underground became more frequent. You didn’t only want to do charity but you wanted to visit Levi. He told you to not come back. That it was dangerous. But you didn’t listen. You wore simpler dresses – not the big, intricate gowns. You tied your hair in a simple ponytail or bun – not the stylish hairstyles screaming that their bearer was a noblewoman. You usually never wore jewelry with the exception of the earrings your step-mother had gifted you, but you took them off during your visits, trying to blend in the best way possible. Of course, you were a woman, therefore it was only natural to attract creeps. But you managed to deal with them. You just wanted to help children and see Levi. Was it that much to ask?

“Eeh! There is a body of water this huge? And full of salt!? I cannot believe it!” exclaimed Farlan.

“It’s true! It’s written in a book that’s been banned by the government! Why do you think they banned it if it wasn’t true!?” you shot back.

“So, you mean to tell us that there are also fields of sand and multicolored lights in the sky in North?”asked Levi while he was focusing on polishing his knife.

“I know it may sound too incredible to believe but I know it’s the truth! I just know it! And I’ll go beyond the walls and see it for myself!” you grinned enthusiastically and Levi’s eyes moved from the knife and onto your form, one eyebrow raised in both question and challenge.

“Hooh? And how are you going to do that? By going on lavishing balls in Mitras?”

“By joining the Survey Corps!” you declared and the silence became so heavy that you could cut it with a dull knife. And suddenly, all hell broke loose.

“What?! Are you insane!? You actually want to join them and go fight titans?!” shouted Farlan as he stood up from his chair and you mirrored him, crossing your arms.

“I’d pick the titans ten times over the political wars we’re waging in the capital and all the hypocrisy and backstabbing!”

“You’re gonna get eaten! Do you really want to face such a death?!”

Their shouting match was interrupted by Levi’s almost frighteningly low tone, making them sweat and gulp.

“Oi, brat... Tell me you’re not serious… Tell me you’re just…in a phase or something,” he said as he put the knife on the table, his attention now fully on you. You sighed as you slowly sat back down on the sofa, a sad smile gracing your features as you looked at the two men. You contemplated but in the end you decided that you had to tell them.

“I’ve been serious ever since I saw my mother get eaten years ago,” you confessed and their eyes widened.

“What?” stuttered out Farlan as he slumped back down on the chair.

“I haven’t told you, have I? I was…five when mom…snapped, for a lack of better word… She told me that she wanted to see the outside world and I… I was so excited!” you gripped the fabric of your dress so tight that your knuckles turned white. “We sneaked outside the walls and… I was saved just on time by a Survey Corps soldier… My mom on the other hand,” you uttered, biting the inside of your cheek until it bled. “Shiganshina will always be my hometown. I can’t stay in Mitras. I can’t! My place is not inside the walls.”

“I thought you were… noble,” murmured Farlan and you chuckled.

“That’s half the truth. My father IS the Deputy Commander of the Military Police. Even before that, he was rich and powerful, coming from a family full of soldiers and nobles. The most respected family… One day he met my mom in Shiganshina. He was already married at the time but… One thing led to another and…here I stand,” you explained. “He would send money but I never saw him until…that day,” you gulped but the pain and bad memories were replaced by determination and bravery.

“I’ll join the Survey Corps. I’ll see the outside world. And I swear to you, once I am capable, I’ll get you two citizenship. I won’t let you rot in here,” you stated firmly and the men could only stare at you with both concern and fondness.  

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

In the end, you did exactly what you wanted. You joined the Survey Corps after graduating top of your class. At first you were placed in Ness’ squad but after your first expedition and after you showed incredible skills and potential, you were moved to Erwin’s squad. You proved how great of a strategist you were and you showed them your political skills when it came to dealing with the Royal Assembly. That gained you lots of respect from the higher ups within the Survey Corps. You also built a name for yourself as Humanity’s fastest because all fellow soldiers who’ve seen you fight, including veterans, have said that there was no one faster. You didn’t brag though.  

Now, a year later, you were a squad leader yourself and there were rumors that you would be promoted to Captain. You smiled at the thought. You pushed your body and mentality way over the limits to prove yourself worthy as fast and as efficient as possible in order to gain a title – to gain power – because thanks to that it would be easier to save them.

Just hang on for a bit more, Farlan, Levi. I’ll soon be able to get you out of that hole.

Flagon’s fist hit the table as he growled in irritation, interrupting your thought process.

“Quite frankly, this is humiliating!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” nodded another Section Commander by the name of Deckan Caddel. His demeanor seemed calm but his eyes were glinting with a murderous intent. You never liked him. Sure, he was great soldier. But he joined purely out of revenge and bloodlust – because his father was eaten. He didn’t care about protecting Humanity. In fact, he always had such disregard for people, especially those who weren’t from Wall Sina like himself.

“Are you honestly telling us, who have always held formality in high regard, to accept a bunch of criminals?”

You had half a mind to tell him to chill the fuck out but you bit your tongue. Flagon was a good guy beneath his prejudices.

After discussing the newly recruited members and the formation that Erwin suggested, the meeting was over and everyone left. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Deckan ogling you before he walked off. You narrowed your eyes but brushed it off as you made your way to the private quarters aligned with your office and prepared for bed. Tomorrow morning the said criminals would be introduced to the others and it will be decided in which squad they would be put on.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

You were…shocked. The criminals everyone were talking about were none other than Levi and Farlan accompanied by a younger girl. Your mind didn’t even comprehend Commander Shadis’ words or the trio’s introduction. You were too busy staring at them, still unable to process that they were here, donning the noble uniform of the Survey Corps. You gulped down the tears threatening to spill and patiently waited for the introduction to be over. While Flagon was busy with subtly expressing his disdain of the three being placed on his squad and sending sharp glances Erwin’s way, you finally managed to gather the strength to come closer and into their line of sight.

The moment Levi’s eyes clashed with yours, you felt like crying and running to embrace him. Your heart started beating faster and your body warmed up after feeling so cold for literal ages. You didn’t know how this man; why this man; had such an effect on you…but you loved it.

His eyes widened and he subtly elbowed Farlan whose attention shifted to where he was looking at. He wasn’t as subtle as Levi though and his reaction was quite open as he pretty much gawked at you. Both men’s eyes shone brightly with fondness and relief.

Even when everyone were dismissed and allowed to go back to their own business, you didn’t. You quietly followed after Flagon as he walked the new recruits to the barracks.

“You two men will sleep here,” you could hear Flagon instructing them from your place in the hallway. “You lot have been living in the dumps of the Underground but do try to keep this place clean,” your eyes widened comically and you almost choked on thin air. Just as you supposed, Levi’s outraged “huh?” followed right away and he neared Flagon threateningly, breaking his personal bubble.

“W-what’s with that look?” stuttered out the man and you decided to intervene before it had gotten out of control.

“Now, now, Flagon, you used to sleep in those barracks too. But you’ve probably forgotten that they always have been dirty,” came in your voice, making everyone’s heads snap to your direction. Farlan’s lips twitched in a smile but Levi’s face was composed. Flagon clicked his tongue.

“And what are you doing here, Y/L/N?” he asked with a sigh and you shrugged, fully entering the room.

“I just came here to make sure you don’t start a fire or something,” you shot back teasingly and he rolled his eyes before turning his back on everyone.

“I’ll leave you to it. And next time don’t try to approach a commanding officer with such attitude. Maybe Y/N will be able to teach you some manners,” snapped Flagon and Farlan tried to salute respectfully.

“Yes, sir!”

“Your hand’s upside-down! You begin training early tomorrow! I expect you to be punctual!”

The moment Flagon was out of sight and earshot you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself at the two men, hugging them tightly. Farlan was quick to return the embrace but Levi froze for awhile, hesitating, before he awkwardly patted your head as you sobbed.

“It’s you! I can’t believe it!” you pulled away and took a good look at them. “You seem healthy. I’m so happy to see you! I still can’t believe that it’s you who Erwin recruited. He must have seen incredible potential! We have so much to talk about-“ your rambling was interrupted by a coughing, making you face the redheaded girl.

“I think we haven’t officially met! My name’s Isabel Magnolia! Nice to meetcha!” grinned the girl and you smiled at her, shaking her hand.

“My name is Y/F/N. It’s pleasure meeting you! You are probably confused as to how we know one another but I’ll tell you everything!” you hooked your arm around hers and tugged her towards the door. “I’ll show you to the girls’ barracks and,” your gaze flickered to the boys, finding Levi’s and holding his for awhile. “I hope I’ll see you two shortly.”

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

You had talked to Isabel until the late hours, telling her about your background, about how you met Levi and Farlan, about your life in the Training Corps and then as a soldier in the Survey Corps. There was so much to talk about and you really wanted to make friends with her since she seemed to be someone very important to Levi and Farlan.

The next day had rolled fast and before you knew it, everyone were up and about – training. The three newbies were to be evaluated today – their skills tested.  

Levi was walking amongst the horses, mind wandering off to the mission at hand. If he wanted it to be successful, he had to play by the Survey Corps rules and one of them was to learn how to ride. Isabel had no problem with it. She seemed to be natural. Then again she has always been an animal lover so he wasn’t surprised at how fast she grasped horse riding. Farlan had some troubles with the horse he had chosen, the mare too feisty for him to handle. And Levi? Well, he still hasn’t chosen one.

“I think she likes you,” came in your gentle tone and he sighed, grateful for the momentary distraction. You came to stand beside him and before he could ask, you pointed ahead, making him focus his vision onto the beautiful black mare that was intently staring at him.

“You know, it’s not only you choosing the horse. The horse has to choose you too,” you told him as you both approached the mare and Levi slowly outstretched his hand, allowing the animal to sniff him before licking it. He smiled when she nudged his hand, beckoning him to caress her.

“Her name is Danika. I raised her,” you smiled and he lifted his eyebrows. “And this is Astaroth. My partner,” you grinned as you pointed to the horse right next to Danika. He was the biggest horse Levi has seen amongst all Survey Corps horses and the only one with such unique coloration.

“He seems a bit…different than the rest,” he mused and you hummed in agreement.

“They had found him outside the walls a bit before I joined. When I tell you he was wild, I mean it. They hadn’t been able to tame him never mind how many times they tried. Then I came and tried. My way. And it worked. He became my partner since then. He’s the strongest and fastest horse in the SC history. Trust me, it’s not easy riding him into battle sometimes but I’ve grown used to it,” you explained and he huffed.

“It’s not only about growing used to it. You yourself are probably a great rider. A natural,” he commented and you shrugged.

“Maybe…Say, do you want to ride together?” you asked and he nodded.

“Sure.”

That’s how you found yourselves riding the horses deep into the forest and away from all the ruckus in the training grounds. You wanted Levi to truly feel and experience the riding and bond with his horse which took some time instead of immediately jumping onto the animal and rushing it into gallop like what most did. And while the silence was comforting, you decided to break it.

“One of the perks about being a part of the Survey Corps is that you get to live surrounded by nature. Just look at it. Look how beautiful and peaceful it is. Fields upon fields and forests upon forest. So much greenery and beauty,” you sighed dreamily and Levi hummed in agreement.

“It’s not bad.”

“At the same time if you get tired of the peace and quiet, you can just roam the halls of the castle or the training grounds and sink into the pleasant noise of soldiers chattering, laughing, eating and training together,” you smiled as you looked at the man. The green shadows the trees cast upon him and the flickering-through-the-trees light bathing him made him look so beautiful, so relaxed…so gentle. Then your thoughts wandered off to a place deeper and darker.

“I still can’t believe that you’re here. That you chose to join the Survey Corps… I’ll be honest with you. I don’t think you guys are ready to be soldiers. Not yet. You need so much training and the expedition is too soon and,” you realized you were rambling so you took a breath and exhaled slowly. “I just…I just feel like Erwin’s offer and your decision will bring some catastrophic consequences. I trust my intuition. It has never failed me.”

“A bit too late for that now,” huffed the man and you bit your lip.

“Why didn’t you wait a bit more for me? I’m sure you calculated almost three years in the Training Corps and then one or so more until I get a higher rank-“

“I thought you were dead,” he interrupted you with a soft, heavy tone that surprised you.

“Eh?”

“There were a few times when I would overhear the MP soldiers talking. They spoke of failed expeditions and death. They mentioned you too. Humanity’s Fastest, huh?” he shot you a wry smile and you blushed but held his gaze as he kept talking, the smile turning into frown. “Not long after, I heard them talking about a particularly nasty expedition that resulted in lots of death. That even you weren’t fast enough to escape.”

“Oh, Levi…It’s…It’s my fault for not finding a way to contact you. Trusting someone blindly and waiting for years is just…not possible or rational,” you looked away and squeezed your eyes, your grip on the reins tightening. Levi shook his head.

“I don’t blame you. It’s not like you could’ve come visit personally or sent letters. So you don’t blame yourself either, brat.”

The following weeks were a pure bliss. You spent all your free time with Levi, Farlan and Isabel, filling them in on everything that had happened throughout the years and helping them adjust to the world above.

But dread came. It came too soon for your liking – in the form of the 23rd Expedition.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

Your squad was mostly responsible for support and defense. Whenever someone shot a black or a purple signal, your squad was to go and assist the squad that had shot the flare.

That’s how you had clashed with Flagon’s squad and you had to combine your strength in order to kill the horde of titans that had appeared suddenly. It was overbearing and a member of your squad was nearly eaten by an abnormal. It was an aggressive abnormal, like nothing you’ve encountered before. Despite the warnings of your squadmates, you had jumped into action, slicing off its hand and entering its mouth in order to grab the girl’s ankle and haul her out. The tongue had been so slippery from the leaking saliva that you had slipped and half of your body had fallen into its mouth. When your arm ceased holding its mouth at bay, it clamped down – not hard enough to snap you in half but hard enough to cut into your meat. Levi had been the one to save you, slashing at the titan and then catching you as you fell once the monster had released you.

Now he was standing awkwardly to the side, fists gripping tightly the handles of the swords, yet shaking, as you were sitting on the ground, back leaning against your horse who had crouched down to serve as your pillar, with the female soldier you had saved wailing and fumbling with the bandages.

“Calm down, dear, it’s not that deep. I just need you to tie the bandages very hard, ok? Like you’re tying a corset,” you encouraged her weakly but her hands seemed to shake even more. Levi tsked as he grabbed them from her hands and shooed her away silently. He grabbed your arm and carefully helped you up, turning you so your back was facing him.

❅

“Wow, Levi, you sure know how to treat gunshot wounds,” you commented as you observed the way he had nursed your injury. It had been a few days since the incident and you were already able to move. The man shrugged.

“Used to it.”

“I have to return home. My family must be worried,” you muttered as you looked apologetically at him. “Do you think you can help me put on my dress? The corset is a pain and it still hurts when I stretch.”

“Tch, come here.”

“Ouch! That’s too tight!”

“Just bear with it.”

❅

He pulled sharply at the bandages, the sound of fabric rubbing harshly against fabric and skin almost sickening as well as the way your waist and belly seemed to become flatter and flatter due to the force and how tight he was tying the bandages around your abdomen. You kept silent. The only thing you allowed were small grunts of discomfort slipping through your lips.

“O-oi, isn’t that too much?” snapped Flagon but you shook your head.

“It’s better than bleeding out. Besides, I need to go to Erwin and the Commander,” you grunted and Flagon furrowed his eyebrows.

“Elaborate.”

“I don’t like this weather. I have a bad feeling about it. It wouldn’t be wise to keep fighting if it starts pouring. It wouldn’t be a problem for the titans but it will be a major hindrance if we cannot see clearly. I’ll go to the center and talk to the Commander,” you explained while Levi finally finished with bandaging you. Your eyes locked and you exchanged gratitude silently. His gaze stayed longer on your form, eyebrows slightly furrowed in concern before he got onto his horse.

“You do have a point. The weather will be very problematic but on the other hand, we cannot cut the expedition so soon. We just left the walls,” reasoned Flagon and you sighed as you climbed on Astaroth. When he felt you on top of him he finally rose to his legs.  

“We can go back and wait until the weather is better, then continue. We are not going to lose anything if we just wait for a bit in Shiganshina.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think that the Royal Assembly will be understanding regarding this matter. They are already up our asses, threatening to defund us at every turn. This will be a good opportunity for them to spit on us yet again,” he growled and you sighed. He had a point, but still…

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the Royal Assembly. I can deal with them. But I won’t risk the lives of my soldiers and comrades,” you declared firmly and your squad smiled as they looked at you with love and admiration. You were a great leader and you were already thinking and behaving like a Captain. That’s why you were so deserving of this title.

“Let’s go,” you commanded and everyone turned their horses, ready to gallop towards the center.

“Y/N,” Flagon’s voice halted you and you half turned to face him. He had a solemn look on his face. “You can’t save everyone.”

“I can try.”

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

Flagon had been right. So right about you not being able to save everyone. You realized that as you stared at Farlan’s body – bitten in half and lying in the mud with his intestines hanging. Or Isabel’s head at Levi’s feet. Flagon and his squad’s bodies were distorted and strewn throughout the field alongside their horses. It was a nightmarish sight to see. Even more so than usual. Who would have known that there would be more aggressive abnormals? You wanted to throw up right here and now but you were too focused on Levi. Levi whose raw, pain-filled, raging screams you had heard just a few minutes ago. Levi who was trying his hardest not to cry, yet his tears were still there mixed with the remnants of the rain droplets. Levi who screamed at Erwin, confessing that his true goal was to kill him before falling to his knees, seemingly giving up on life.

After Erwin spoke to him and left alongside his squad, Levi didn’t move from his position, eyes hidden behind his bangs, but you still knew that they were focused on Isabel’s head, probably flickering onto Farlan. Your squad members looked at you worriedly. You were too still and unresponding. They weren’t used to seeing you like this.

You gulped as you took a few hesitant steps forward, kneeling in the mud beside the broken man. The same man who you now, after this gruesome expedition that almost cost you your life, finally came to realize you held feelings for – feelings stronger than what someone would hold for a friend.

You gently took his bloodied hand and his eyes snapped to you when he finally lifted his head.

“Let’s go home,” you whispered as you sent him a small smile and he lowered his head again. Despite all, he allowed you to hold his hand and help him stand up and lead him to his horse.

The journey back to the walls was silent. Levi was to ride with your squad. You wanted to watch over him. You were at a total loss. You didn’t know what to expect from him. Therefore you didn’t know what would be the best way to comfort him. One thing was for sure. You had to be ready for him acting like a cold dick and trying to push you away. You supposed that with personality like his, that behavior was to be expected.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

And you had been completely wrong. He didn’t do anything like that. He didn’t push you away. He wasn’t cold. In fact, it was the total opposite. He accepted your comfort. He accepted your affection, albeit hesitantly. He allowed you to be near him and make him company. You didn’t talk much. Just being near one another was enough.

He thought that you were the only person he had left now. Like hell was he going to push you away. He wanted to be strong and go through this alone. He didn’t want to burden you with his pain. He knew you were suffering too. Yet deep down he bitterly admitted that he needed you to be there for him. He needed you to hold him. He needed your reassuring words and your company that soothed the aching throb in his soul.

❅ 

“Do you believe in reincarnation, Levi?” you asked him one night as the two of you were seated on the rooftop, staring into the skies.

“I don’t know anymore,” he whispered.

“I do. I believe that this body is just a shell and when it crumbles, our soul leaves and finds another one, either on this world or on another. Just look at the sky! It’s so huge! And I’m sure that there is more behind it, the further you go. Worlds upon worlds,” you smiled breathlessly and he raised his eyebrows, looking at the stars intently, as if trying to see beyond them the worlds you were speaking of. “I like to believe that all my friends who die get reincarnated into a world beautiful and free of titans and get to live normal and happy lives. That’s why I think that there is a certain beauty and relief to death, even if it hurts so much.”

“It doesn’t sound half bad,” he breathed out and you gave him one of those warm smiles that poured light into his heart. The type of smiles that almost had him smile back.

❅

He was probably exaggerating but from now on, you truly were…

His everything.

He didn’t care about anyone else. Why should he? It’s not like they cared either. In fact, they kept calling him a criminal. They kept being rude and condescending, mocking him at every turn. Hange, Erwing and Mike were the only exceptions so far, willing to befriend him and actually putting an effort in doing so. And you of course. The rest of the higher ups kept quiet so he didn’t know how they felt about him. But out of all, there WAS one bastard that just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He always went overboard with his insults and disrespect that even some of the cadets who used to hate Levi thought it was barbaric and had a change of heart regarding the matters.

Yeah. His name?

Deckan Caddel.

But you? You were brilliant. Every time Deckan would insult Levi openly, you would jump in his defense and insult the bastard just as fiercely which would make him glare dangerously at you before storming out. Levi always berated you.

“Tch, I don’t want you getting in trouble, dumbass. It’s not worth it.”

But to you it was more than worth it. So you fought. You fought for Levi.

And everything was good until one night, after waking up from a particularly nasty nightmare, you had rushed out of the comforts of your personal quarters and down the hallways. You wanted to go all the way to the male barracks and seek Levi’s comfort but a figure had halted your journey, making you stumble and almost fall down the stairs if a large hand hadn’t grabbed your arm roughly, shoving you against the stone wall.

“And just where is the little slut going?” taunted Deckan and you wriggled, trying to get out of his grasp.

“Let me go!”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Just who do you think you are, huh, little girl?” his voice sent shivers down your spine as his hands held your wrists so tight you swore you heard the bone crack. “I don’t care whether that sewer rat is your lover or your fuck buddy. You aren’t a Captain yet. So if you continue to oppose me and publically humiliate me just to defend him… I’ll make sure to break the life out of you, you hear me?” he growled as his knee slammed into your abdomen, causing you to groan in pain and cough out bits of blood. Said knee then slid down and came to rest between your legs, pressing onto your crotch and making your eyes widen in panic as your struggling became more fierce. “I’ll break you in every single way,” he drawled and his other hand went to grab your chin, squeezing it tightly. “And then I’ll make sure to suspend you from the Survey Corps,” he spat out and your eyes widened. “Or better yet. Now that I think about it, an accidental fall down the stairs might just do the job for me,” he smirked deviously and you gulped, anticipating his next crazy move.

Before any of you could do anything, a hand shot out from the darkness. It grabbed Deckan’s collar and harshly pulled, causing the man to steer off balance and lose his footing. You watched with a combination of relief and horror how everything happened as if in slow motion – him outstretching his hand in order to grab onto something, his body going further away from you before hitting the stone and proceeding to roll down. A thud was heard some seconds later, followed by a painful groan.

Then the sound of someone’s kick connecting with someone’s jaw echoed through the hallway, finally snapping you out of your stupor as you looked down to see Levi crouching down next to a beaten and bloody Deckan who was barely conscious.

“Touch her again and during the next expedition I’ll personally shove you into a titan’s mouth. I’m done with being silent and taking your shit, you filthy swine,” growled Levi and Deckan could only look in fear through his swollen eyes, barely nodding his head. Levi tsked before he climbed the stairs once again, taking your hand and quickly leading you into your office.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered as he closed and locked the door.

“So I should’ve let that mongrel push you down the stairs?” he spat out and you shook your head. “He deserved what he got. I don’t regret my decision.”

“No, but-“

“Don’t! Just…don’t…” yelled Levi before his voice settled into a pained groan, almost cracking as his head lowered letting the bangs cover his eyes, his body slouching against the door. You knew that look. The vulnerable look. “Please, don’t get hurt…not because of me,” he mumbled. “It’s not worth it.”

You frowned as you approached him. Without hesitation, you took his face into your hands and kissed his forehead before you settled his head onto your chest, arms engulfing his form.

“How many times do I have to say it? I’ll die for you if I have to. Because it is worth it. It is worth it if it’s for your sake,” you whispered into his ear as one hand went to stroke his hair and he relaxed in your embrace, sighing softly as his own arms went around your body, pulling you even closer.

“Live for me instead.”

❅

❅

❅

[unlocktxt]

in the darkness of tomorrow | c.yj

choi yeonjun x female reader

series masterlist :

prologue | part one | part two

genre: royal au, fluff, angst

description: the selection is happening once more to find a wife for prince yeonjun. y/n swears to hate the royal family, but when it’s time for the prince to choose a wife, she gets tied up in the mess.

note: this is inspired from the book the selection by kiera cass, however even though i use some of the ideas there are major differences.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: mentions being whipped and starved

tag list: @binniebutter @nshitae

this was the first time you had ever felt heartbreak. your heart has been a constant reminder that daniel ended things days ago. it haunted you, even as you passed by all of the bright faces in the city.

it seemed like heartbreak wasn’t enough for you. the world had to punish you some more by the announcement made yesterday. the news spread fast around town that day, “the selection application was required for all women of a given age.” you happened to be a part of that age group.

you doubted that the prince would choose you to even be considered as one of the options, but what if’s filled your mind. you still weren’t ready to let go of daniel. right now you wished you would’ve stayed to hear what he wanted to say, but now it was impossible.

you did anything to get your mind off of his frozen blue eyes, including thinking of the prince. unlike everyone else, you thought that prince yeonjun felt a little too entitled. single, willing women weren’t enough for him so he had to make those whose hearts belonged to someone else apply. unlike all the bright faces hoping to be picked, you didn’t want to be one of his little playthings.

they say that the selection was unbiased, but most people knew that wasn’t true. many girls who were unfortunate enough to be in castes five and lower, where they could hardly or not even make ends meet, rarely ever got picked and they were the ones who needed it most. you could stay a four and bake pastries all your life if it meant the people in castes lower than you could afford food.

besides, you had seen first hand what this kingdom has done and you didn’t agree. you would be caught dead before you ever bowed to their spoiled and corrupt system.

“hey mom!” you put on a small smile to please her worried eyes when you walked into the bakery. her small streaks of grey hair added to her beauty.

“i’m so sorry sweetie. i know how much you didn’t want to apply.” her shoulders relaxed, but she continued to place out new baked goods.

you let out a sigh, “yeah well... it doesn’t matter. it’s not like i’ll get picked.” you smiled at the thought. it was all just a waste of time.

your mom stopped, placing the basket of bread on the counter. “it’s supposed to be random... we never know.”

you furrowed your brows and laughed a bit, while giving your mom a look that said “really?” she smiled, shaking her head to acknowledge that you were probably right.

“anyways... where’s dad and taehyun?” you didn’t see or hear them in the bakery.

your mom looked up at you and for a moment she looked distant before returning to her warm demeanor. you caught the change but decided not to bring it up.

“going on an errand,” she responded simply before filling the basket of bread with a few cakes.

she wasn’t going to give you the chance to ask, but you didn’t mind. you knew she’d tell you later.

“so... this arranged engagement with taehyun.” you looked to the side while preparing your face for a whistle.

“you know he’s a great boy and he’s a doctor... a three. he also helps to manage the orphanage with the eights. he’s a great boy y/n.” your mom looked disappointed when you looked back at her.

“it’s just... when does a four ever get put in an arranged marriage. plus...” you looked down at your hands where your fingers were playing with each other, “what if... i could love someone else.” your eyes glistened at the thought of daniel always waiting for you on that tree branch. you didn’t know what caste he was in... even if he was an eight you’d be willing to be homeless with him... although now he’d be a two... all because of the draft.

your mom sighed as your little sister, seoyeon walked in. “that’s enough for now y/n. take this basket to the orphanage.”

seoyeon was all muddy, indicating how she came inside after playing around in the dirt. you grabbed the basket harshly, trying to show your mom that this was not over.

“can i go with?” seoyeon asked, looking at mom. your mom slightly nodded, so you took seoyeon’s hand in yours. you resisted the urge to glare at your mom before smiling at seoyeon.

“okay... we have to get to the orphanage... what’s the best route?” you asked your sister who wore a sly grin before pulling you out of the door.

seoyeon rushed towards the river as she pulled you along. it was your little secret space that no one visited. the two of you had been running for quite a while, slowly passing by fewer and fewer people.

once the two of you made it to the river, seoyeon balanced on the thin makeshift bridge with her arms sticking out. she wobbled here and there but made it over. you followed soon after, carrying the basket in your hand and making sure to avoid any wet slippery spots on the bridge. seoyeon laughed as you made your way over to her.

“hurry slowpoke!” she called before running off into the field.

you shook your head before fastening your pace. once you got off the bridge you took off into a sprint. by the time you caught up to her she was already at the orphanage and you were panting. that was one thing about seoyeon, for small legs she could sure as hell run.

“it’s about time.” she giggled as she took in your bent-over body. “i was starting to think i should’ve carried the basket.”

you rolled your eyes, waving her off before you straightened up. seoyeon had already run off to play with the kids her age. when you walked in there were a few kids and teenagers around your age sitting towards the entrance.

“are taehyun and jihyun around?” you asked, looking around to see if you had missed them in the small orphanage. all you could see at the moment was how it needed to be remodeled, like many things in this area.

“taehyun left a long while ago, but you could probably find jihyun upstairs if you like.” one of the teenage girls, who you knew to be yui, spoke. you nodded before moving towards the kitchen area to place to basket down, with a little note not to eat more than one.

you knew how hard it was for taehyun and jihyun to keep this orphanage up and running. it was hard to get everyone here a proper meal. taehyun nearly passed out from exhaustion when he came to visit your family. he had given up plenty of food just so those who were sick could eat enough.

you made sure to get the plates and napkins out to remind them not to leave the bread lying in unsanitary areas. once you felt your job had been done, you went upstairs to their office. unlike most days the door was closed. you knew something was wrong and the sniffling coming from the room only confirmed your suspicions.

you hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door and letting yourself in. jihyun’s sorrowful eyes burned through yours, making your heart drop.

“y/n thank god you’re here.” she cried before attacking you in a hug. you rubbed circles on her back to try and get her to calm down.

“what happened?” you asked softly, scared this question might break her.

she sniffled, “o-one of the boys-” she let out a sob and you continued to try and soothe her.

“it’s okay you don’t have to say anything.” at this point you moved one of your hands to her head and rested it there.

“n-no he... he stole some meat and they’re going to whip him y/n. they’re going to whip him. he’s only seven!” she cried looking at you in your eyes. she was pleading, pleading for you to do anything. you weren’t sure you could.

“where’s taehyun?” you asked looking around, maybe he went to help. maybe that’s what he and your dad were doing.

“i don’t know.” she finally calmed a bit, hiccuping here and there. “he left before we received the news.”

you were left to wonder what the two were doing, but you didn’t have time for that.

“i promise i’ll go help the boy.” you gave jihyun a determined look. “what’s his name?” you asked halfway out the door.

“hak hyunwoo.” she barely whispered it, probably ashamed. you gave her a reassuring smile before leaving and finding seoyeon.

by the time you had arrived back home they already were gathering people around the city to witness the poor boys' punishment.

“what is your name boy?” the masked man shouted more to the crowd than to the boy. you had been struggling to get closer to the wooden post.

“hak hyunwoo.” he was crying, his tears wouldn’t stop flooding. he had nobody to watch out for him.

“and what is your crime?” the masked man yelled out once more.

hyunwoo was silent before speaking. “theft.” it was quiet.

“your punishment will be...” he waited to see if the crowd of people would react. only a few weren’t excited, it was disgusting how many people were cheering. everyone was just sitting back... watching.

“thirty strikes to the back!” there was a roar in the crowd, but the noise died out in your mind. that was way too much...

you pushed even harder, “stop!” you screamed, but no one could hear you over the crowd. you saw them grabbing the whip, only making you lunge forward, forgetting about hurting the people in the crowd. you stumbled forward after reaching the front. it didn’t matter if he was an eight, you had to help him.

“wait!” you screamed, now where the two in charge of this could hear. the guards were watching you with cautious eyes.

“miss you can’t intervene.” one man standing to the side had said.

you took a deep breath. “this boy did nothing wrong. can’t you see he’s malnourished? the kingdom failed this poor boy... they’re the ones at fault.” you had to try anything. everyone gasped as you accused the royal family of this boy's actions.

“if you must punish someone. punish me, but theft does not deserve thirty strikes to the back.” everyone's eyes were on you, making you nervous. you never really asked for attention, but here you were gaining it.

the masked man was staring at you, no doubt glaring. “fine. get up here.” he nearly threw kyunwoo off of the tiny stage.

you were surprised that worked, you were just desperate, but now you would have to face the consequences. as you walked past the little boy you told him to run home, which he did. that gave you a little comfort.

“what is your name?” the masked man was seething.

“kim y/n.” you tried to sound brave and strong, but you couldn’t help the waver in your voice.

before he could do anything else, more soldiers rushed toward the tiny wooden stage.

“you mustn’t hurt this young lady. she’s been selected and the prince would like to see her now.”

you weren’t sure which guard had said it. you were stricken with shock. tears threatened to fall and you didn’t know whether it was from the relief of not getting whipped or because you’d have to leave everyone to be a plaything for prince yeonjun.

guards had escorted you back home. you were still in a daze from the information, even as your little sister cheered for you. your mom was the only one to snap you out of the trance.

“i’m sorry sweetie... just know that we will all be waiting and ready for anything that happens. we will support you no matter what.” she rubbed your shoulder as you stared at all of the paperwork in front of you.

there had been a palace worker standing beside you stating the rules and how the caste systems worked as if you didn’t know.

ones were royalty and family of royals. twos were celebrities, soldiers, and politicians. threes were people who worked pretty stable jobs like teaching and nursing. fours were business owners. fives were musicians and entertainers. sixes were those who helped others with jobs. sevens were mainly outdoor workers. then there were eights... these people were mainly cast out of society.

staring at the paper only made you even more frustrated. you were practically signing your life away for the possibility of being a three or one if you’re “lucky.”

everyone had to be virgins, single, and if caught in a relationship could be met with death. you rolled your eyes once more thinking about how it wasn’t optional this year. you guess it was a good thing daniel never asked you out and ended things.

then the man said that it’d be ill-advised to refuse anything the prince asked. that confirmed your suspicions, you were practically being sold off to a spoiled brat. the only one who could send you home was the prince himself and no one got a say in what the prince did.

of course, everyone had to be civil and not fight, but you had to wear what the palace gave you, nothing else. one of the worst things was that you couldn’t leave the palace on your own accord. you’d be trapped and watched for the entertainment of the show.

there was one last thing about being one of the last 10. it meant you were the elite, but you doubted that would ever be you. with that... you signed your love away.

your mom was the one to give the signed paper to the man at the front door who had been waiting to take your paper to the palace. she was going to see you off because your dad still wasn’t back yet.

“wait y/n!” seoyeon ran towards you, hugging your legs tightly. “are you going to be a princess?” her eyes lit up when she asked. you couldn’t crush her.

“maybe... that’s up to the prince.” and that was the truth. you didn’t have a choice, but you’d do everything in your power to leave.

it seemed every choice was being made for you as you followed the palace worker, the guards following behind.

the ride to the palace was slow and lonely. you were forced to look longingly at the forest, regretting not saying goodbye to daniel. you thought of all the things you wanted to say to him.

i’ll wait for you because i love you.

we can get through this.

please don’t leave me.

i can’t live without you.

be safe.

at that moment all you knew was that you had to find him somehow and he’d be in the palace. maybe staying for just a little bit wouldn’t be that bad if you could find him.

when you saw the large palace nausea rested in your throat and stomach. you don’t know why he called you here this early, but it couldn’t be good. all the other girls would be arriving tomorrow morning as they had announced.

it was weird being escorted in, but your nerves were exploding within you. you weren’t ready to see royalty. you vowed to die before you bowed before them, but here you were walking straight in and scanning the area. all you managed to see were maids and soldiers around, giving you another few moments of the pride you were willing to die for.

you were passed off to three maids who had been waiting for you.

“it’s amazing to meet you lady y/n.” the title made your face crunch with distaste.

“please... just call me y/n.” your voice was quiet, not allowing yourself to be comfortable in an unknown area.

“we can’t do that miss.” the shortest of the three informed, making you close your eyes and pray to the heavens that you would be able to survive this.

“okay then... may i know your names?” the three of them looked at each other before the one who led the path spoke up.

“i’m aeri, she's isuel, and that’s minsuh” aeri pointed at each of them. you noted that the shortest one, issue, was probably the youngest. you only nodded in response as they led you further into the palace, upstairs, and down long hallways.

“this will be your room,” aeri announced, opening the door to reveal a large room with many small details on the furniture. it was a bit much, but you didn’t expect anything less from people at the top of the caste system.

“we have to get you dressed because the prince will be seeing you soon.” minsuh rushed over towards the large wardrobe, that when opened revealed many different dresses. all of them... dresses.

“i say we should put you in the pink one!” iseul shouted, excited. the other two nodded enthusiastically, but you were too defeated to protest.

it was almost as if prince yeonjun had been waiting the whole time because as soon as they zipped you up, a knock came from the door. all of the maids ran to the door, leaving your pleading eyes behind.

“your majesty.” was all you heard before a few mumbling and giggling. they rushed out immediately and prince yeonjun replaced them. his hair was dyed pink now, making you wish you protested the dress’s color. your maids were sly.

your heart was pacing, scared from the uncertainty.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you lady y/n.” there it was again. the title you wanted to get away from.

“the pleasure is all mine.” you tried to hide the sarcasm in your voice as you stood strong in front of him. don’t you dare waver.

“i heard you got into some trouble today... i’d like to discuss that.” he was calm, every word held a hidden strength behind it. this was why he called you here early.

“i’d hardly call it trouble.” you stopped to watch him step closer to you. you wanted to tell him to stay away, not get close to touching you, but you kept quiet.

“oh really? you don’t call asking to be punished for someone else’s crimes trouble?” he was standing right in front of you now, but he was relaxed and wore a soft smile. he found this humoring. it was anything but.

“i call that two innocent people paying for a kingdoms failure.” the words slipped out before you could hold them back, but you didn’t regret them. not when you saw how prince yeonjun backed away, looking to the side.

“innocent? he was a thief.” yeonjun looked back at you, determined and unwavering. two could play at that game.

you walked towards him this time. a power move. “the world is not all black and white. he was a young boy, an orphan that was placed as an eight. your rules are the reason he was starving, leaving no option but stealing.” you were glaring now, trying to ignore the fact you had to look up at him.

he didn’t seem to want to back down either. “yet if we let one person steal something what’s stopping others?” he leaned his face closer to yours, noses only inches apart.

don’t you dare give in.

“if higher castes can pay their way out of punishment, why don’t the lower castes get a chance?” at this point, you couldn’t move any closer, but you could spit on him. that was only a passing thought to entertain you.

prince yeonjun was quiet after that, staring into your eyes as if he was trying to search through every part of your life. it felt interrogating. he hadn’t responded, so you took that as his loss and back away.

“is that all you wanted to discuss?” your voice was quieter now, not accusatory.

“for now... but you might want to learn some respect.” and then he left you to be swallowed in your anger.

part 2 sneak peak:

the castle had been dark for a while. all day today you were looking around for a familiar face, one that didn’t seem to show.

the creaking of your door alerting you of a new presence. you swore you told everyone you’d like to sleep peacefully tonight, but here they were interrupting you.

“princ-”

“i heard you’ve been looking for me.” you could recognize that voice anywhere. the playfulness in his tone lit your heart on fire.

[akakeiiji]

Hi! This is my first time requesting something, i was wondering if you could do headcanons or reactions for Oikawa, Akaashi, Atsumu, sugawara and Nishinoya who have an s/o who is a medical student and works as a paramedic in her free time and tends their injuries after games or durning them, especially oikawa 😔🙏🏻

Omg anon, if this ask is based off of you then you are amazing!! Keep up the great work! 

Also I finally broke through my creative block and actually wrote something, I actually finished these hcs a few days ago but my laptop died before I could post so I had to start from scratch huhu (having to start over drained me so much hence why this took so long to post)

✂︎・・・masterlist

-`,✎Oikawa, Akaashi, Atsumu, Sugawara and Nishinoya’s reaction to their S/O tending to their injuries

Oikawa Tooru

Oikawa is the king of overworking himself

Even when he doesn’t have any matches to worry about, he’s in the gym practicing and practicing till he physically can’t anymore

It’s no wonder why he gets injured a lot, he just never knows when to stop

If it weren’t for you his body would be in horrible shape

You always know what to say and do to get him to stop practicing for the day, and you’re always the one tending to his sore and exhausted body ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He loves flexing you, he needs everyone to know how smart you are

When I say everyone, I mean everyone

You turn around for a bit and he’s suddenly telling the cashier how amazing you are for being a paramedic

Contrary to popular belief, Oikawa is actually very smart so sometimes he’ll study with you in his free time, helping you out by quizzing you and stuff

He studies your material sometimes, idly reading through your papers and textbooks sometimes

He’ll just randomly blurt out random medical facts, which may or may not be a ploy to impress you

One day when it was reaching the end of a match, you could tell that something was wrong with Tooru, it wasn’t obvious but you knew when he was in pain

You internally screamed at him, urging him to sit the rest of the match out but this was Oikawa you were talking about

Luckily the match ended quickly after that with Oikawa’s team winning but he almost collapses from the sheer pain he was feeling on his leg, it had been acting up again from his old injury

You were absolutely livid because it wouldn't have been so bad if he stopped playing when it started hurting but you were too worried to lecture him

There are tears prickling his eyes but he’s still smiling and telling everyone he’ll be okay because you’re there

“They’re the best of best, they’ll be able to help me!”

He’d be bedridden for a while and, of course, you’d be by his side the entire time

You scolded him for an hour and he couldn’t run away so he had to endure it all

For the first few days, everything would be okay, but after a while, he starts getting restless and keeps trying to get up to do things by himself

You would physically restrain him to the bed if you could

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

JUST KIDDING….Unless

He wants nothing more than to go back to training, he’d literally start dreaming about volleyball on some nights

You have to constantly remind him that if he doesn't recover properly he’ll just worsen his leg so that he doesn’t run away while you’re at school or at work

“If it gets worse, they might have to amputate it.”

“What?! You can’t be serious…you’re joking, right?”

Since he can’t go out or train anymore, he spends the rest of his time trying to get your attention

He’s so pouty and whiny, always calling for you for no good reason

While you’re studying in the other room, he’ll suddenly call for you saying he needs you

When you go over to him, he’ll just be like: “I need you~” and you’d have to fight the urge to strangle him

He really just wants your attention, pls help him

In all seriousness though, he’s so thankful to you and truly appreciates what you do

While you’re checking on his leg one day, he’d take your gentle hands in his and pull you in for a hug

“Thank you for putting up with me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“…also I need to pee.”

Akaashi  Keiji

My son

My precious boy

It pains me to write about him getting hurt

He’s so supportive of you and your studies, he knows how hard studying medicine is

He always checks in on you when you’re studying or working

He’s the type of boyfriend that will give you little snacks while you’re working and remind you to take breaks

Whenever he feels sick or gets hurt, you’re the first one he calls because he trusts you the most and because he knows how capable you are

But this happens very rarely because he’s really careful and knows his limits

During one of his matches though, he suddenly falls over after setting a ball, clutching his leg

He’s immediately rushed over to the infirmary but when they arrive you’re already there wheezing and panting after running all the way there from the bleachers

The nurse tells you that he sprained his ankle pretty badly and that he’d recover just fine but you still felt so bad because you could see how much Akaashi was in pain

I'm legitimately hurting rn while writing this

After getting injured, he starts overthinking so fricking much

He’ll start thinking that he was pulling his team down and begin questioning his skills as a player

You literally have to slap some sense into him or he’ll just drown in his thoughts

You’ll have to cup his face in your hands and urge him to look at you while you tell him how much of an amazing player he is and how injuries like these are inevitable when playing sports

He’ll only start feeling better after this but he still needs a huge dose of your hugs and kisses to fully recover

Out of all the boys, he’s probably the easiest to take care of (he’s prolly tied with Suga)

He’s more obedient and doesn’t mind staying in bed for a long time

But at the same time, he’s so stubborn and says he doesn’t need your help

He just keeps thinking that he’s burdening you while you have so much on your plate

“I don’t need your help, love. I’m completely fine.”

“Keiji, there are literally tears in your eyes.”

He subconsciously gets clingier than usual as the days go by, always trying to get your attention

He isn’t as obvious as other ehem tooru and tries to do so in more subtle ways

Like he’ll just accidentally drop his book and when you go to pick it up he’ll pull you onto the bed and before you know it you’ve been cuddling for two hours straight

The extra affection is his own little way of saying thank you

While you’re checking on his injuries he’ll grab your hand with his and press your knuckles to his lips

“Thank you, love.”

My heart burst

Miya Atsumu

Oikawa part 2 but snarkier

He just doEsn’T kNow whEn to StOP

He always finds some nitty gritty detail he absolutely needs to fix during his regular practice and stays after hours to work on it

He can train for hours without realizing it, before he knows it it’s midnight, he’s the only soul left in the building and his legs are dying

Other times, when you arrive home to find your boyfriend missing, you immediately head over to his gym and drag him home

During a match, he dives down to save a ball only to crash on the ground awkwardly and injure his shoulder

He’s forced to leave the court after failing to convince the referee and his coach that he was fine and he was absolutely livid

Not at them but at himself

He thinks that the injury was a sign that he was slacking off or losing his edge

He goes off on a tangent about how he needs to practice more and how he can’t afford to waste time

Nobody could calm him down until you arrived

After you got there and talked some sense into him, he finally complies and lets himself be lead away to the infirmary

He’s down in the dumps for at least a week, usually found grumbling at the tv, unsure of what to do with this unprecedented free time

But soon after a lot of talks lectures with you and food sent by his brother, he starts going back to his usual old self

He’s absolutely basking in this extra attention from you, he secretly loves being doted on

It used to really irk him when he finds he can’t do certain things with his injury like opening a jar

But once it dawns on him that you’re there, he will totally abuse this just to get your attention and to bother you

“Hey, can you help me open the fridge?”

“You can do that by yourself.”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WON’T HELP YOUR INJURED BOYFRIEND.”

Whenever you’re checking on his shoulder, he always distracts you by kissing your lips or neck while you’re trying to be a good s/o and it always ends up in a makeout session or more

Because he’s got so much more free time, he’s usually found in your shared apartment, clinging onto you while you’re studying waiting for you to finish

“Are you ready to dote on me?”

“No, be patient.”

“>:’(”

When the doctor tell him he’s fully recovered, the first thing he does is lift you in his arms and twirl you around

Sugawara Koushi

Precious bby

This mama bear rarely gets injured, he’s usually the one nursing others

You two are like this wonderful duo with magic curing hands

He absolutely loves that you’re pursuing your dreams of being in the medical field and low-key shows you off to everyone he knows

Especially to his parents, they love you almost as much as they love him don't tell him that tho

He’s really careful while playing because he hates being in pain, like more so than the average person if you get what I mean

While blocking though, he ends up injuring his wrists from the sheer strength of the spike and the not so ideal positioning of his arms

He has tears in his eyes while he’s being brought to the infirmary and your heart literally broke as you watched from the sidelines

He was stuck with a wrist splint for a couple of weeks

Like Atsumu he constantly needs your help to do mundane things like open cans and such

Unlike Atsumu though, he’s less whiny and more distraught over the fact that he’s always being doted on

He isn’t used to being the one taken care of

He always tries not to burden you and always tries to do things by himself

“Koushi! What was that crash I heard?”

“Nothing! Don’t mind me, just focus on your work.”

“WHY ARE YOU COOKING!?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, DAMNIT—”

He broke two plates that day trying to make your favorite meal

Apparently cooking with a splint is pretty difficult, he takes note of this

He becomes guilty when you do things like cook and clean, he tries to help as best he can but you always tell him to just sit back and relax but he jUSt cAn’T

He doesn’t want you to worry about stuff like that because you need to study!! He feels so helpless sometimes

While you’re cooking dinner, you’ll just turn to the side and do a double take when you see him staring at you with wide, concerned eyes

“What?”

“I want to help :(”

He’s literally the living embodiment of this emoji: 🥺

You let him help with little stuff like stirring and watching the pot while you cut the vegetables and stuff

He immediately feels better after this, he wants to feel at least a little bit helpful

At the end of the day, while you two are in bed, he’ll nudge closer to you and pepper your face with kisses

“What was that for?”

“I just love you so much, thank you.”

Nishinoya Yuu

Sorry but everyone at the ER is on a first-name basis with Nishinoya

LISTEN HE’S SO CHAOTIC AND WILD, HE ALWAYS GETS HIMSELF INTO DUMB SITUATIONS

His grandfather didn’t even bat an eye when the school nurse would call him informing him that Nishinoya managed to break his arm during his math exam don’t ask

When he found out about your studies and your job he was so giddy and kept telling you that it was fate and that you two completed each other

He’s literally the proudest boyfriend that you could ever have, always telling everyone about how smart and talented you are

“Yeah, you may be a rocket scientist but you will never be as smart as my s/o!”

“Yuu, what are you doing—”

He loves having a smart s/o, he’s always being wowed by your vast knowledge

You can always find him silently cheering you in the corner while you’re studying

Basically, he’s your number one fan and supporter

Asides from that, he’s also your number one patient

Whenever he gets hurt, you’re the first one he turns to, he tells you it’s good practice and that it’s helping you improve your skills in an attempt to stop you for scolding him

One time, he sprained his elbow while trying to do some new move he saw on tv

Insert vine: I don’t care that you broke your elbow

Except you do care, a lot in fact

He’s lowkey tearing up when being rushed to the infirmary because it hurts but mostly because he just wants to play

You have to be so strict and stern with him

He’s so energetic and bouncy, he definitely doesn’t respond well to being bound with bandages or slings

If it weren’t for you, he probably would have worsened his injuries, but he’s a huge simp so he listens to everything you say…mostly

Since he can’t use his energy for volleyball and sports, he’ll direct that energy towards giving you attention

He becomes sooo affectionate and clingy, he just wants to shower you with love

He gets restless often, whenever he does he’ll plop down beside you and wrap his good arm around your waist while you’re working as a way to remind himself to stay put and to not jump out the window from boredom

“Kiss my boo-boo?”

“What are you? Five?”

Unlike the others, he’s very very open about how thankful he is to have you taking care of him, he would scream it out the window if you would let him

He reminds you every day how blessed he is to have you, at the most random of times actually

“Can you open this bottle for me?”

“Sure.”

“GOD, WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE YOU?”

“CALM DOWN—”

He’s so in love, please save him

[baubaes]

hi! is there a chance for Jemily with no22? some angst maybe? cheers🤗

Well hello to you to! And of course there is!

@thatonecurlygirl prompt list 22

“I can’t give you what you want.”

Ship: Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau

Word count: 5,4k

Genre: angst/hurt/fluff/very very light nsfw? i have no clue how to label this

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, injuries, classic criminal minds vibes :^)))

Summary: "Right now, Emily Prentiss was dead. She, however, was on a plane to Paris." aka JJ taking care of staked Emily, the blackbird flashback and events around it.

A/N: i thought of way too many scenarios when even though Emily and JJ are literally in love, it could never work out. here's one of them :^) i hope you'll enjoy it!! xx ana apparently i just can't imagine a scenario in which these characters could have a peaceful, quiet and happy life, im so sorry

Emily felt drained.

She was all hurting, really bad, her head was killing her, not only from the beating she received those several days ago, but also the mere stress of all this.

It was pretty baffling for her to realize that she survived this whole ordeal.

She couldn’t say for how long she was out; it felt both like a blink of an eye and an eternity.

And she really thought that she died, when she eventually lost consciousness in Morgan’s arms. That still felt like ages ago.

It was all really confusing, but then again, she couldn’t spare too much of her strength to dwell on what actually happened. Emily just felt too weak to try to keep her eyes open for too long and that resulted in her reality being pretty much scattered.

When she woke up in a hospital room, she was dazed and overwhelmed. They’ve put her on some strong painkillers after the surgery and most of the time right then felt like a blur. She thought she heard some voices in her dream, maybe doctors, maybe… Was it JJ?

She heard bits and pieces of conversations, somebody commenting on her condition in a low voice, nervous footsteps circling around the room, the dimmed rhythmical sounds of all the equipment she was hooked to, some sort of buzzing and a one sided conversation that had to be a phone call.

Was it just some bizarre dream?

A way for her subconscious mind to cope with the anxiety surrounding the recent events?

Whether it was real or not, it let her stay in this state of slumber brought to her through an IV drip.

Despite all that, she felt really grateful. She wasn’t sure where to channel this gratitude though;

Her team for backing her up?

The doctors for patching her up in the OR?

God, for allowing her to continue her existence?

Then again, she wasn’t sure if the last one existed, nor that the almighty entity would waste its time on making sure little old her survives.

It was comforting though, that her last moments on this Earth managed not to be spent with Doyle, even if that was against her will, so in theory, she didn’t have much of control over this.

Memories of him were a combination of ones that she’s made as Emily Prentiss and ones that she’s made as Lauren Reynolds. As Emily, it consisted of all those moments when he threatened her and her team, he kidnapped her, tortured her, nearly killed her…

As Lauren she was able to saw his more… Humane side.

Lauren was his girlfriend. Lauren lived with him,

Lauren shared her joys and fears with him. Lauren loved him.

But that was Lauren.

She wasn’t real. An identity, that’s all that she was.

And even though Emily tried to convince herself that Lauren’s feelings were perfectly compartmentalized away from her own, deep down she knew she was lying to herself.

Was Doyle ever somebody she actually loved?

She definitely despised him, but it felt like now she was obligated to despise even her own self for ever having feelings for this monster. Positive ones anyway.

Right now, Emily Prentiss was dead.

She, however, was on a plane to Paris.

It was all coordinated by Hotchner and JJ.

Nobody else knew.

Her team, her friends, her loved ones were about to attend her funeral in a few days.

She imagined confused look on Spencer’s face, Garcia’s eyes filled with tears, Morgan frowning and looking away. Would Rossi be sad, or would he finally feel relieved to be ridded of her impulsiveness and comments on literally everything?

She imagined her mother, who obviously was not on it, throwing a pile of soil on the coffin. That would not hold her body inside. Would she cry? Would she stay composed even at a funeral of her only child? Well, again, it wasn’t real real, but she wouldn’t be able to realize that.

For some reason, she figured JJ would’ve taken it upon herself to feel guilty, despite knowing what was going on.

They both knew it was the only way to make it all work.

Emily worried about everyone, but there were two people she worried about the most. Spencer and Penelope.

They both were incredibly strong, but she couldn’t be sure how would they deal with this.

She worried, since Reid did not cope well with losing authorities. And even if he would never admit it to her face, she knew that he looked up to her.

The thought of that made her feel the bile appear on the back of her throat.

That kid has lost so many people already… And he internalized all that, it had to be weighing on him every single day. It felt cruel to add another person to that list.

She had to keep thinking about the bigger picture to even remotely be able to deal with all that.

Now Garcia was somebody that Emily truly loved.

It was hard to imagine her being sad over her „death”.

Not because of the probability of the blonde being sad,

rather the severity of her grieving, Emily would imagine.

Penelope was one of those people who were able to feel so much, maybe even too much sometimes.

And on a daily basis it was wonderful. That’s what’s made her such an incredible, empathetic human being, who, despite their job, was still able to not only - be cheerful, but to cheer others up as well.

When she thought of that, it felt as if her heart could break to million pieces.

It was strange, how in that moment she should still feel the pain;

They’ve stabilized her after the surgery, but there were still bruises on her face, stitches across her abdomen, burnt skin on her chest. And she did feel it, but it was blurred, far away.

The feeling that made her grasp reality to the point of hyperawareness was the emotional pain.

Somehow she was able to compare it to the pain of being staked.

She still wasn’t sure what was a proper emotional response in that situation.

It wasn’t in the manual, or in training, despite people having to go… Well, faking your own death was like going undercover, in a way.

Both at the Interpol and the FBI, nobody taught her how to feel, while pretending to be dead.

She knew how to make it happen technically, more or less. After all, Lauren had already died. Her old team, JTF-12, was able to pull that off those several years ago. Including her of course.

But that was Lauren. An identity, which, sure, she’s been tied to for quite some time, living as her, acting like her, becoming her in a way.

Still, just an identity.

Right now, there wasn’t a disguise, an identity to toss away, allowing her to come back to her regular life.

Right now her regular life was supposed to cease to exist.

Before, she thought about her goal and the fact, that she survived. She was grateful, in some way she felt obligated to take care of Declan and she wouldn't be able to do that, if she was actually dead, right?

Even though she knew that she had no right to feel attached to the boy as much as she did, she just couldn’t help it. The image of him as a toddler, walking around the room in Doyle’s house stuck in her head. She couldn’t shake it off. And even before Doyle found her, that image caused her to have problems with falling asleep from time to time.

Emily never seriously thought of herself becoming a mother, for that role to be the main purpose of her life. She was afraid of screwing her potential children up, because she knew that even if she meant well, it wouldn’t guarantee them turning out okay. And her line of work made it impossible to both realistically approach the idea of maternity - she didn’t have a partner and if she were to be a single mother - it would be impossible to keep up with the BAU - that job was just too demanding; but also she saw so many downright evil, just unimaginable things that people were capable of doing to one another. How could she ever be able to shield a child from that?

Suddenly, all these ridiculous, small things that she wouldn’t think twice about made her feel as if each and every part of her life was just slipping through her fingers, right there, right then.

That one window in her apartment, the one with the wide windowsill, she loved to sit on it and watch the sky. Sergio would curl up in her lap or right next to her, on the windowsill, quietly purring, when she would pet his black fur. It didn’t happen often, because most nights she'd come home so exhausted, all she could basically do was just pass out on her bed. And Sergio would sleep on a pillow right next to her, despite Emily's promises to herself that she will teach him to stop, because she'd wake up covered in his fur with a runny nose.

But when she had a chance to do that, it made her mind stop racing, at least for a few minutes. That barely ever happened anywhere else.

Now she realized that Sergio was alone in her apartment and she panicked. But just for a second, because then she remembered JJ in the hospital, telling her that Penelope took him in. Of course she did. He'd definitely be surrounded with love. She wished she could've just taken him with her though, since she's already been missing him. Silly little fur ball, making her fall in love with him gradually. Penelope wouldn't be able to resist his charm for sure, she thought to herself, smiling. Still, she felt really sad.

Emily realized that she’s left so many things behind.

She didn’t think of herself as someone intensively attached to material possessions, but all these had a sentimental value for her and that was the only thing that mattered.

The thoughts invading her head were random, coming to her without any particular sense or order, falling on her mind like an avalanche.

And she thought about that crumpled up picture, capturing her with her friends when she was a teenager, back in Rome.

A cross, that her mother gave her on her first communion. She wasn’t ever really wearing it, but she liked knowing that it was safely tucked away in one of the drawers in her closet. It brought her some strange kind of comfort.

A box with letters she’d exchange with her father when she was a kid, because even though they moved around together as a family, he still would have assignments all around the world. So he would leave for a single weekend, or for several months at a time. No matter how long or short was he leaving for, he’d always try and send her a postcard, hence the collection of them, both from huge cities in Europe and Asia and tiny places she’s never even heard of before in America or Australia.

Maybe she wasn’t going through this box ritually on some settled schedule, but every once in a while she would look at those tacky pictures of touristy little towns, as well as simple, beautiful pictures of great historical monuments or watercolored landscapes of picturesque countrysides. And they'd make the corners of her lips rise up just a tiny bit.

All that with a couple words reading simple greetings, scribbled in a hurry, in her dad’s small, not exactly neat handwriting, on the back of each and every one of them.

„Love you, Dad” summed up every single message.

And looking at those words made her feel warmth, both now and when she was a little girl. Her father wasn’t very talkative and he rarely told her he loved her unprompted. So she got used to reading these words, instead of hearing them from him.

She cherished these postcards and anytime she’d go through them, she noticed some kind of feeling spread throughout her body, that felt like pure joy, but also love and safety.

Kurt Vonnegut’s "Sirens of Titan".

Morgan lent it to her a few months ago.

The book was by her bed, bookmarked with some crumpled receipt for groceries she’d found at the bottom of her purse, when she'd had to suddenly break away from Rumfoord and Kazak on the jet.

She’s read it before, truth be told, (in Italian and back in the ’80s), but Morgan insisted that she just had to read the original version. And even though there was a stack of books she wanted to read going back at least two years sitting on her bedroom floor, dangerously leaning against the radiator, the day she brought it home, she placed the Sirens on the very top of her bedside table, instead of the stack.

She’d imagine Morgan would appreciate that gesture.

Morgan, her partner.

Morgan, who held her before she passed out.

Morgan, who always had her back.

And she tried to do the same for him in the field.

He’s saved her ass countless times.

Emily wished she could have had his back right now.

She realized with a paralyzing fear that it could last forever.

Doyle could lay low, undetected for years.

Would it keep Morgan up at night?

Would he blame himself, wondering?

If he'd gotten to her seconds earlier, if he had only ran faster, if he’d found her sooner, would it change anything?

Thinking about that made her fists clench suddenly.

If she had any fingernails left, they would surely dig into the skin of her palms very painfully right now.

Emily felt this overwhelming guilt filling her chest, making her throat feel as if it was closing, her teeth grit.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, as if the jet’s cabin had become decompressed and she couldn't reach the oxygen mask.

"You’re doing okay?"

She heard the soft and calming voice of her only companion on this flight, naturally besides the pilot.

JJ was looking at her with those big, worried, blue eyes and even though Emily’s first instinct was to nod, as she did just that, she felt her eyes watering.

"I can't stand the thought of all of them grieving over a lie."

She mumbled out.

"Emily, you know that this is the only way. We’d never make them go through this, if there were any other options. They will understand."

JJ’s voice became more firm with the last sentence, she was obviously in a mind space reserved for dealing with crisis.

"I really thought that was it, you know?"

Emily asked, a little startled at the sound of her own voice.

She couldn’t recall the last time she’s held an actual conversation with another person, one that wouldn’t consist of barely understandable mumbling as a form of communication on her end.

"There came that point, where the pain went away, I guess I went into shock. I heard Morgan’s voice and I wanted to keep my eyes open like he told me to so bad, but I just couldn’t. I felt like I was slipping away and it felt so… Easy. I wasn’t scared at all. I… I knew you guys would take care of Declan, if I wasn’t around. And that all of you would be okay."

She said, trying to piece together everything that happened.

"And apparently I've coded in the ambulance? I had no idea, but some glimpses are coming back to me, slowly. But it was like I’d fallen asleep."

She added, her face reflecting her mind in a state of deep contemplation.

Her thoughts were interrupted by JJ’s voice.

"Thank God, you didn’t…"

Emily only now noticed that with every word that she spoke, JJ’s eyes became more and more glossy. She frowned.

"Hey, I’m here."

She leaned in and smiled faintly.

"Its gonna take way more than some branding and a little stake for you to get rid of me."

JJ laughed, wiping the tears away, before they had a chance to flow down her cheeks.

"Why would I ever want to get rid of you?"

Blonde asked, her voice now soft, her expression puzzled.

Emily felt something strange in her chest.

At first her brain assumed it had to be her burnt skin and damaged nerve endings, but no.

It felt nice, it wasn’t painful.

That warmth, spilling around her insides.

She didn’t have a witty comeback to her question. She wanted to think it was because of the meds making her hazy, but she wasn’t sure anymore. She just looked down at her chest and frowned again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The first thing I’m doing, when we get to Paris is having this removed."

She heard her own voice.

"How could a brand hurt more than getting staked?"

"Maybe it’s a psychosomatic itch you’re scratching? The brand left an emotional toll, Doyle established dominance over you by marking you as his, a stake… I mean you overcame death. The ultimate victory over your foe. Why suffer a pain you’re proud of?"

JJ wondered, actually trying to analyze all that. She looked at her, now amused.

"Or you could always get another tattoo."

Emily laughed at that. JJ continued.

"You know, something transformative? Like a… A phoenix. Or a blackbird."

"I love the song."

Emily said.

"But something tells me, I shouldn’t tread in your waters."

JJ looked at her with a questioning look.

"Come on, JJ. Something’s obviously different about you. You commandeered an Interpol jet. You’re profiling me."

JJ looked down and sighed. Emily continued.

"Why didn’t you say your transfer was a backstop?"

At that JJ’s expression turned to a confused one, indicating that what the other woman said was the truth.

"Oh, I know that look. The 'I can’t trust anyone, but myself' look. I invented it."

Emily added, trying to make it sound funny, but ultimately, it still came out serious, because it was true. JJ smiled at her slightly, but she looked sad.

"Do you ever feel like you’re in way over your head?" Emily nodded, wanting her to continue.

"I got assigned to an information hunt. Instead, I am chasing an unsub, who killed my informant."

"What would Hotch tell you to do?" Emily asked without hesitation. That’s how she found her way around during any investigation, ever since she joined the BAU.

"Focus on victimology, let behavior lead the way…"

JJ listed out loud.

"Exactly. Who did your unsub kill?"

"The one person I was getting through to."

"Why?"

Emily continued with her questions, seeing that they initiated JJ’s thought process.

"Because I was getting through to…" JJ said, frowning.

"I was getting through to her. What if she was about to expose her killer? Someone on the inside…"

Emily could tell that JJ needed somebody else to look at her situation and see it in from a different angle. JJ got really pensive, her eyes glued to some nonexistent point in space.

"It sounds like it's time for you to be the blackbird and flip the script." Emily said slowly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I guess it does." JJ said with a tiny smile, before getting up.

"Hey, why won’t you try and sleep at least a while? We won’t be landing for several hours, so…"

"Right. You should try and sleep too. I’ve been in a coma, so I caught some Zs, when you think about it. Medically induced ones, but still. You on the other hand must be exhausted."

Emily’s face was covered in grey, purple and yellow spots, but JJ’s face, even though not bruised, still indicated that she had a rough couple of days. She had bags under her eyes, her cheeks pale, instead of slightly flushed like they normally were, her face tired.

They both looked quite miserable.

JJ just smiled in response, but her eyes weren’t a part of that smile. Her eyes stayed sad.

She walked to another seat, so she could try and lie down.

Emily wanted to let JJ rest, because she suspected that by suggesting sleeping, she actually had an excuse to take a nap herself, even if it was supposed to last only few minutes. She deserved a good night sleep, Emily thought to herself, watching the blonde struggling to find a comfortable position. When she eventually succeeded, Prentiss leaned back in her own seat, looking out the window. Her chest was still burning, but she wouldn’t even flinch. Her eyes, almost independently from her will, landed on the other woman every couple of minutes. She watched JJ’s chest move rhythmically, until her breathing became really deep and really steady and she was without a doubt asleep.

She knows what’s happening,

Emily thought to herself.

And so does Hotchner.

Yet, they’re going to have to look at the rest being in pain and they’re going to have to pretend that they’re going through the same thing.

And when she thought about Hotch, it wasn’t that hard to imagine.

He would keep himself perfectly composed in pretty much any situation she ever saw him in.

He was able to calculate his next move without showing as much as a microexpression.

It could be a little unsettling sometimes, but then again when he was surrounded by his family, when he was with Jack, he would expose this softer and loving side of himself. Just a bit. It was quite the view.

Emily had no doubt that he was a good father. And a good man.

He really was great at planning, thinking ahead like no one else;

he had his way of smoothly dealing with issues that inevitably came up during their investigations.

All those things made him an incredible section chief.

Emily was certain that she could trust him with her life. And she did.

It would be hard for anyone to keep such a burdening secret from people you are constantly around.

Eventually, you could start believing the lie, but that also took dedication. It was even harder when you had to lie to people that were actually a part of your life, people that you were close to.

It’s one thing to be undercover and to keep a secret from people you’re trying to infiltrate. During such operations it felt justified to do that, choosing the lesser evil, the end justify the means and all that.

It’s a completely different thing to do that to your friends and family.

"The secret to getting away with lying is believing with all your heart. That goes for lying to yourself even more so than lying to another."

A quote by the author Elizabeth Bear, that she's memorized from reading her New Amsterdam series more than once. She was repeating it in her mind, not being able to stop.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in. She knew that they made the right call. Still, it was just devastating, thinking what they voluntarily sentenced themselves to.

She tried to calm herself down with proper breathing. It helped.

Emily finally decided to try to sleep. She thought that since she was still medicated, she’d pass out easily, but that didn’t happen.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw faces of her team members. She felt like her chest was being crushed. Breathing didn't really help.

After what felt like forever of forcing herself to fall asleep without any luck, she opened her eyes and just kept them open. She focused her gaze on what was behind the window.

The clouds, barely visible in the navy skies.

She didn’t do it on purpose, but she realized that she started to dissociate.

And she let herself do it.

The numbness felt better than the stinging guilt.

She didn’t really register it, but tears left her eyes, falling on her lashes and cheeks, as her deep, dark eyes focused on the navy color in front of her, forty thousand feet above the ground.

She couldn’t tell how long it took, but only JJ’s turning in her sleep, simultaneously throwing a bag off the seat made Emily come back to reality. Blonde didn’t wake up. She looked really peaceful.

She thought about not seeing her for God knows how long. It stung, to a point of her gasping. Afraid, that maybe that could’ve woken her up, Emily wiped her tears away, but JJ’s eyes stayed closed. And these intrusive thoughts came back to roam inside her head.

Sure, JJ wouldn’t be with the BAU now, since she’s had that informant operation, but no doubt, she would still see them. They were a huge part of her life after all.

Emily watched her face, calm and soft, imaging it twisted in pain and grief, having to pretend one of their own was dead.

In her mind, JJ was one of the strongest people she knew. She was persistent, hardworking and incredibly professional, but she was also kind, nurturing and very loyal.

What she was doing for her at this very moment proved it perfectly.

She knew that JJ accepted her part in this plan on her own and if she were to start trying to talk her out of it (never mind that it was also too late for that at this point), she wouldn’t change her mind. To be fair, if they switched places, she would do the same for JJ, but still, she couldn’t stop worrying about the woman sleeping on a seat across from her.

Emily watched her friend and it brought her some sort of comfort, a feeling of safety.

She finally dozed off, trying not to think, but focused on JJ’s steady breathing instead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Emily, we’ll be landing in about an hour."

She heard, opening her eyes, and she saw JJ standing in front of her, one of her hands on her shoulder.

"I thought you’d like to change before the transfer."

Emily’s hand landed on top of hers, holding both of them on her shoulder.

"Oh, right. Thank you, I…" she looked down at their hands, trying to focus. "We’ll have to say goodbye soon, right?" she blurted out, looking back at her face.

JJ sighed and sat down right next to her, not taking her hand away, but instead, intertwining their fingers and resting both their hands in Emily’s lap.

"Well, it seems so."

She smiled, but her eyes were reddened, filling with tears once again.

Emily’s gaze was glued to their hands, watching JJ’s wrist and fingers, so delicate right now, but perfectly capable of throwing a good punch. Her eyes stopped at the ring on her finger; Henry’s birthstone. She felt that strange feeling again, that warmth spreading throughout her body.

"It’s not going to last forever. We will find Doyle."

JJ mumbled out and Emily held her breath.

"I know, but… I will miss you so much."

Emily said, before instinctually putting her arms around blonde’s waist, to which she responded with wrapping her arms around her neck. JJ tried to be gentle, because of Emily’s condition, but brunette only held her tighter.

They were so close right now, that she could hear the other woman’s heartbeat. It was slightly elevated.

JJ pulled back just a little, so she could look at her face.

"I will miss you as well." she whispered, their eyes laid on each other.

JJ said the next sentence so quietly, that Emily could barely hear it.

"You’re very special to me, you know that?"

Emily wouldn’t be able to logically explain why she did what she did next, but somehow her hands ended up on both sides of JJ’s face and she leaned in, placing her lips on blonde’s ones.

She wasn’t thinking, but as she kissed her, the other woman immediately kissed her back. Emily felt soft palms cupping her face, her eyes closed. That kiss was filled with so much pain and longing and some kind of desperation.

But it made her whole body fill up with that warmth.

Emily wasn’t even sure what that was, so she tried to be gentle. She ended up kissing JJ in a somewhat shy manner, yet the other agent was deepening the kiss with each second, making it more and more passionate. Emily felt her back hitting the wall and a moan left her throat, captured by the kiss. JJ reacted by slowing down, moving her fingers across her face, running them through her hair. Emily was still cupping JJ’s face, her skin felt so soft and warm under her fingers when she brushed them across her cheeks. Their tongues slowly swirling around one another, this time Emily caused JJ to gasp, as she bit her lower lip. She responded with kissing brunette even more eagerly, so Emily brushed her fingers along her neck, resting them on her shoulders. One of her hands was caressing the skin covering JJ’s collarbone. At that she sighed, barely audibly, but Emily caught it. Her fingers moved towards the skin covering her breastbone.

JJ suddenly pulled back and broke the kiss, leaving both of them breathing heavily, blood flowing through their cheeks and lips.

Emily placed her hands back on JJ’s shoulders, she didn’t mean to make her feel uncomfortable.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she broke the silence.

"JJ, I…" she didn’t even know what to say. It wasn’t right. She had a loving husband, a family. She didn’t mean to ruin it for her.

"We don’t have to talk about this." she said quickly and Emily felt strange. She took her hands off of her shoulders and leaned back, so there was space between them.

"I… Dont… Look, if we won’t see each other for…"

She started, but her voice broke, when she realized what expression showed up on JJ’s face.

Regret.

Emily felt so many contradicting things in that moment, that she basically froze. JJ was looking away.

"You went through something traumatic, we all did. It’s only natural to crave human contact then. And it can present itself in many different ways. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s fine."

"JJ, it means… It means everything for me."

Emily choked out, placing her hand on top of blonde’s. JJ turned her hand, so she could squeeze Emily’s one between her fingers.

She smiled looking at their hands, but only for a fraction of a second. And then she took her hand away, only to look Emily straight in her eyes. She seemed sad, but also… Agitated.

"I can’t give you what you want, Emily." she said quickly, getting up.

"There’s too many reasons why. And… You have to leave."

JJ stated, sort of matter-of-factly.

Emily couldn’t really comprehend what just happened. But all of the pain, both physical and mental suddenly came back, not dimmed anymore.

This was… This wasn’t the time for this. Come on, Emily, it’s time to compartmentalize again. You used to be so good at this!

Well, before joining the team anyway.

"We’re landing in 15. You have to change, definitely cover up these bruises at least a bit." JJ continued talking, her voice morphing back to that task-oriented tone. She was taking clothes and makeup out of the bags, handing the items to her. "Hurry."

Emily felt like she couldn’t move, but she forced herself to get up and do what she needed to. They weren’t looking at each other and even though she wanted to scream, she kept perfectly quiet.

Compartmentalize. It’s not the time. It didn’t mean anything.

They landed and after JJ made sure that the right person was waiting outside to drive Emily to a safehouse, she stood in front of her and hugged her. Emily wasn’t really expecting that right now, since the atmosphere was so tense.

"I will miss you, no matter what." JJ whispered and even though Emily was so stunned from the pain and all around confused, she knew they couldn’t part without a proper goodbye.

"Thank you, for everything. Take care of them." Emily said and she embraced her tightly, one last time. Emily wanted to say that she’ll miss her like crazy, but it felt both like too much and not enough.

She didn’t want to let them turn this into a final goodbye.

"Of course. I will see you soon, okay?" JJ smiled and Emily smiled back. It wasn’t the best forced smile, but she just couldn’t do better in that moment.

"Goodbye, Jennifer." she said sounding way too official, taking a first step out.

"Goodbye, Emily."

Prentiss turned away and quickly made her way to the parked car.

She saw JJ’s face one last time through the tiny window.

The car left the landing strip and disappeared in the night.

„Goodbye, Emily.” she thought to herself, as she caught her own reflection in the side mirror.

„Goodbye, Emily.”

JJ whispered, placing a red rose on the coffin.

[shyflameweasel]

Calm before the Storm

So I guess having this poor reader endure all this is now gonna be a series I guess.

Something was happening in Nevada and whatever it was was spilling out those Things into the rest of America. At least...that’s what you thought. (A tip from that clown) You had no idea how long you were kept at the hospital, both for care and for the disappearance of seven people. There was no suspect aside from you, so what else were they going to think? (”You have evidence one” cajoling “they have to believe that.” “No they won’t” the other hissing they’ll think you’re ranting and raving, it’ll make you vulnerable. Even if they take the film only six died from the clown, while the last...” They’ve been getting louder since...)

They had you on some medication, some antibiotics for your arm and something to help you sleep at night. When you closed your eyes you could still see bloody sky’s and grey wastes. The screams and laughter bounced around your head accompanied by breaking bones and meaty rips. Iron and sickeningly sweet decay suffocated you. Clawing hands enraged faces-

Maybe it would be good to ask for something for the memories.

You had some internet access during your stay. Nobody from home had come to see you (Did they know about the case? Or did your isolation drive them away?) You had looked to see if a ‘Tricky the clown’ was real. All you got were one or two people (with arms and faces and beating hearts). You looked up ‘grunts’, and that took you nowhere helpful. ‘Gray people’ gave you aliens unsurprisingly, a few creepypastas, local legends (which led nowhere) and it trying to correct the search to ‘gay people’. (The you of before would have chuckled, the you of now can’t bring themselves to try). Anything pertaining to ‘faceless monsters’ just gave you more cryptids and creepypastas.

A part of you knew that you should of stopped. Should have just pushed aside the feelings and focused on getting better. But you couldn’t, not this time. Before no one had been harmed (lies) but now people were dead (your arm branded. You couldn’t bear to look at it) If there was a chance that more were around (they had to be) then something needed to be done.

Just when you were about to end the search for the day...you found something. Apparently, someone had sighted a similar Thing. There was no picture but their description painted the same picture of what you knew. It didn’t stop there, there were a thread of posts with sightings in different areas (towns city states some hours some days away). Some said that they saw them with a mouth, others eyes, a handful said hair, and one with a full face minus a nose. (Ones that pointed with betrayed signs, a face scrapped off to show bloodied bones, one the size of a house with nails through the head).

Some posts took them seriously, others weren’t. (Like it was all some kind of game of pretend and NOT HAVING PEOPLES LIVES ON THE LINE) Hesitantly, you leave post on the thread, ‘Has anyone been attacked or followed by them’. It takes some time but a few replies come in, saying that they’ve personally never gotten close to one but maybe someone else has. 

That left a pit in your stomach, either what happened to you was a fluke (was it?) or that more worryingly...you were the only one to survive an encounter.

You kept an eye on the thread for the next couple of days. Call it a gut feeling but...you had a feeling that if you didn’t you would regret it. (”Focus on yourself, all this worrying will just make you sicker.” “Wait and watch, these things take time and tiring yourself out before will only make it worse.”) Whatever you were waiting for came to pass as one night, a post came into the thread. Asking for help. They’d gotten to close to one of them without realizing and now was being chased.

Several more posts followed that one in quick succession. Each near illegible. The poor fool was live posting to what was going on. The results from the others were mixed, but you could tell that a lot of folks were skeptical. Maybe it was the trauma or maybe it was the desire to see that someone survived what your friends didn’t. You quickly wrote that they needed to hide, that if they didn’t have a weapon to find one. If they had any idea of their location to call someone and tell them where they were incase of the worst case scenario.

You hoped that your message didn’t get out too late.

The messages seemed to stop after that...at least from that one user. A majority thought that this was one of those alternate reality horror stories. But the minority were skeptical and worried. You watched the thread like a hawk until exhaustion took you late into the early morning. “You did your best, you got the word out.” “Sleep. if they’re still being chased then going silent draws less attention. All we can do is wait.”

And you did.

The voices offered what comfort they could as days went by. (You were honestly surprised that you hadn’t gone grey over all the stress from the last month.) It was three days after that you received a PM. It was better than you expected. The person from two days ago, beaten and bruised (broken ribs and a busted arm) was alive. The pressure in your chest lightened. They had taken your advice to hide and call for help. They’d been found but the person they called had gotten there (in time).

The words blurred and you realized you were crying. You’d cried a lot since of the beginning of this chaos (fear panic agony mind breaking madness) but this time...it was from happiness. For the first time in what felt like an eternity there was a light in this nightmare. A part of you knew this happiness wouldn’t last for long, that reality would snap back and you’d worry again about the them again. 

Something was happening in Nevada but for right now, right now you would take what joy you could get.

[7-wonders]

Here's Where She Meets Prince Charming (but she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter 3)

Summary: Thunderstorms do not conjure good memories for Duncan. He finds a kindred spirit in you.

Well, two people sent me asks saying that they liked the Beauty and the Beast AU, and as I am a whore for validation, I wrote an idea I had a while back. Thanks, friends!

Other works in the Beauty and the Beast!Duncan Shepherd AU: Wilted Roses Smell Just as Sweet | This Place of Wrath and Tears | A Gentleman’s Guide to Wooing Your Prisoner | This Cruel Trick of Fate | Down the Rabbit Hole | Hints of Kindness | Days In the Sun

Thunderstorms are not something that Duncan Shepherd is very fond of. While many children have a fear of storms, Duncan was not one of those children. He loved to hear the tremendous crash of thunder, counting the seconds between that and the crackle of lightning across the sky to see how many miles away the storm was. For Duncan, storms meant his mother would read him stories until he fell asleep, faking that he was frightened just so she would spend time with him. As a child, Duncan actually enjoyed storms.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, thunderstorms conjure memories of the night where his life went to hell. When the winds begin to rage and the house shakes with the force of thunder, when rain demands to be heard and lightning lights up the night, Duncan flinches with the worry that she might be waiting on the other side of the door. After all, the witch who cursed Duncan and his entire household darkened his life on a dark and stormy night. Maybe the forced transformation into a beastly creature, being trapped on the grounds of the secluded manor with a now-invisible staff, and the reminder that he will die unless he manages to fall in love with somebody, and have that somebody fall in love with him wasn’t enough for her.

Staying in one spot is making him nervous, and he wants to make sure that, on the off-chance the Enchantress does decide to come back for him, she can’t catch him by surprise. Duncan begins to walk up and down each of the halls of the manor, checking doors and windows and only slightly flinching at a particularly loud boom of thunder. It’s worth it though, for the peace of mind that this security check provides him.

It’s when Duncan reaches the main floor that all senses are on high alert. There’s music playing from somewhere, actual music. Battery-operated devices had long since died, and electronics could not be charged, which meant that the staff was eventually unable to listen to music, their one lifeline to the outside world that they had once been a part of. When that day arrived, it came as a relief to Duncan, who loathed the tunes and melodies that haunted and teased him. Now, for there to be more than the quiet humming coming from the staff, music surely meant trouble.

He begins to follow the sound down the hall, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of a glowing aura. Eventually he reaches the library, where the source of the music is coming from. However, it’s not a witch that’s set up a perfectly-planned trap and is deviously waiting for Duncan to come to her. Instead, it’s a record player. He’s not sure where the record player came from, but it’s hooked up and spinning a Fleetwood Mac vinyl. You’re on your back next to it, reading a book in front of the fire.

Duncan didn’t think that he was going to go any further into the library, but his legs have a mind of their own. It’s only when you look at him before sitting up that he now realizes he’s halfway into the room.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, turning the volume down on the record player. “I can leave, if you’re wanting to use the library.”

“No!” Duncan realizes that sounded a little forceful, so he clears his throat and tries it again. “No, you’re fine. I just...heard music playing, and it’s been so long since we had music here that I was trying to find the source. Where did you get the record player from?”

“I was bored and looking through closets, and I found this and a bunch of records.”

“And out of all of the records you found, you had to pick Fleetwood Mac?”

“Hey, don’t talk shit about Stevie Nicks.”

You throw your head back in a laugh, and Duncan thinks that he might actually smile. The beginnings of a rare smile are thwarted, however, when an unexpected clap of thunder makes goosebumps rise on his arms. Of course, you notice the grimace on his face.

“You don’t like storms?”

Duncan looks into the fire, not used to somebody looking at him for any amount of time. “Not really, no. Bad experience in the past.”

You nod in understanding, and Duncan believes this is the end of the conversation. Surprisingly, it’s not. “My dad would always tell me that storms weren’t meant to be weathered alone. We would spend thunderstorms together, playing games or watching movies, sometimes even just sitting together, and suddenly, the storms wouldn’t be so bad.”

Duncan hums in acknowledgement, not quite sure what you’re getting at. You sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Come and sit with me,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Out of all the things that Duncan had been expecting from you, this was not that. It takes a minute for his brain to cooperate, but he does finally sit down on the couch. It’s not exactly “sitting with you,” but you won’t argue with this. “Is...is this okay?”

“I’m the one that invited you in here, aren’t I?”

“You did.” A long time ago, he would have never been so shy and unsure of himself. If Duncan then were to meet the man beast that he had become, he definitely wouldn’t recognize himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“An actual question, smartass, not just permission to ask a question.”

Duncan smirks, but nods. “Why did you save me? That night where I tried to run away, you could have just let me die. That would have solved a number of your problems, but you didn’t let me die. Why?”

How was Duncan supposed to answer this question without sounding like even more of a creep? After all, he couldn’t exactly say that he saved you because you were his last chance to even potentially break the curse and save his life. Even then, he knew that this wasn’t the full answer. Truthfully, he saved you because, for some reason, he couldn’t bear the thought of you dying. It was a split-second decision, and one that had a multitude of reasons behind it.

In the end, he settles for the very beginning of the truth.

“You selflessly gave up your freedom so your friend could have his. I couldn’t let that sacrifice go to waste.” You don’t look extremely satisfied with that answer, but it’s good enough that you don’t ask for further elaboration. “What about you? Why did you give up your freedom for Jim’s?”

You raise your eyebrow. “We’re playing 20 Questions now, are we?” With a sigh, you stand up. “I’m gonna need some alcohol for this.”

//

Duncan has not enjoyed himself like this in a very long time. He’s had so much fun learning about you, from the mundane like your favorite color, to the introspective like if aliens really do exist. Likewise, he’s found himself opening up to you as well. 20 questions had turned into 40, which turned into so many that he’s lost count. With each question you took a sip of wine, leading to personal space becoming nonexistent and your body becoming boneless, that is, you were now lying right up against him and giggling. You aren’t drunk, but you’re definitely tipsy, and the wine has given you a warmth in your veins that heats you up against him.

Most importantly, and something that Duncan won’t note until later that night when he’s alone and missing your warmth, is that the storm hasn’t bothered him since he started talking with you.

“You’re tired,” Duncan states, looking at the way your blinks last longer and longer.

“A little, but ‘m okay. Besides, we’re talking.”

“You should go to bed.” His hand pauses at the last second, and he jarringly realizes that he was about to stroke your hair.

You nod, clumsily sitting up and trying to get your bearings after dozing. Duncan stands with you, beginning to walk with you to your room. “What are you doing?”

“Wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to decide the floor makes a good bed.”

You chuckle. “Y’know, you try to act like you’re a scary guy, but you’re not. You’re actually really thoughtful.”

“I’m not, but thank you.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” Now, he almost regrets walking you to your room, the door of which you’ve now reached. He stands a respectable distance away, ready to slip off back to his wing and wallow in solitude for the night. “I want to ask you one more question.”

“And what question is that?”

“What’s your first name? Nobody ever says it.”

He could choose to ignore your question, or tell you that that’s something he likes to keep private. He doesn’t feel like he deserves a first name anymore. First names are for people who aren’t monstrous beings cursed by a vengeful witch. But you’re looking at him with a waiting smile, and you’ve both shared so much tonight.

You think this question is a lost cause as the silence continues to stretch on. As you start to turn the doorknob open, ready to mumble apologies, he speaks.

“My name is Duncan.”

You turn around, grinning, and for the second time tonight, the warmth with which you look at him almost takes his breath away. “Goodnight, Duncan.”

Duncan wishes you goodnight as well, waiting until the door shuts before finally going back to his wing. In the empty study that he used to use, the enchanted rose, which wilts more and more each day and continues to lose petals, glows with a long-forgotten hope.

[thecolordemon]

Haha hi :) I already asked but I wanna do it properly here. So, can I request headcanons abt the brothers reactions after knowing that MC had an incurable disease and they're gonna die soon? Thanks! 💕 (Btw I LOVE ur drawing)

Of course you can😊 It will be my first time writing Angst in the english language🤣😅 but I hope you'll enjoy it either way because who doesn't like to suffer a little bit? @flyme--tothemoon I added some shortstorys to the headcanon because...I couldn't help myself.

Request: Headcanons-How would the brothers react after knowing that MC had an incurable disease and that they're gonna die soon?🥺😭

⚠️Angst, Sadness, mentions of illness and death⚠️

*Lucifer*:

he noticed some sickenly sweet scent lingering over your small frame since you arrived in Devildom

but he couldn't put his finger on it

he never lived among humans how could he know?

he couldn't

and that's the whole point

he asks you about it during having dinner with all of the brothers

when your laughter dies down everything else turns quiet too

he knows immediately that something is wrong

"Did someone else noticed it too?" you ask without looking up

they nod

"Well...I guess...I have to tell you something."

Angsty/Sad Short story (other brothers below):

They all looked at you with big eyes. Filled with questions and worries because of the sad little smile that crept on your face and conquered your lips like a dark sky swallowing the sun. All of them noticed that sickenly sweet scent over your normal aroma. They just didn't thought that it would be such a big deal... "Well...I guess...I have to tell you something."

You cleared your throat and put down your cutlery. It was weird...I kind of felt like the day where you got your deadly diagnosis.

But this time you were the doctor.

And your beloved demons were the patients.

You knew that you couldn't hide it from them forever. Being here was like a daydream and it made you forget your disease a little bit more every day. Living with the demons brought so much new adventures in your life that the illness seemed so far away. It was like you left it at home. In the human world. Somewhere where it couldn't reach you. Throughout the day you never wasted a single thought about your approaching death. And why would you? Death was unavoidable. In the end everbody dies...Just for you it meant, that death would greet you a little bit sooner.

"Two years ago...I fainted. I was not feeling good for a...very, very long time after this. And it did not get better. I thought I hit my head a little bit to hard on the concrete. I...vomited very often and that one night my parents took me to a hospital because of it. They wanted to make sure that I'm okay..." You stopped and looked down at you fingers which were intertwined with the black tablecloth. This night was branded inside your mind like a tattoo you never asked for. Neither did you like it. The brothers did not dare to interrupt you. You could just feel them all staring at you. It was so quiet...so terribly quiet.

"It truned out that...I have a very dangerous disease." you continued. The swallowing felt so much harder now...like something big and bitter was stuck in your throat. "And...sadly...there is no cure..." The bitterness stung in your eyes and you had to fight back the hot upcoming tears. The hopeless and shocked faces of your family were something you could never possibly forget. And right now all of the brothers had this exact same shattered expression on their faces. You bit your bottom lip and your nails digged into the soft skin of you thighs.

"...Is it...deadly?" Lucifer asked and his voice sounded oddly thin. For a little while you did nothing but to stare into space. You did not want them to see you cry. Not when you had to be strong for them again...but then you nodded.

"yes." you breathed. "Yes, it's deadly. They said I have 3 years left-"

The following opressive silence was broken when some of the brothers shifted uncomfortably in their seats. One of them dropped a knife. But nobody saied something. It was like some higher power turned the volume of the universe down. 'Well-' you thought to yourself. 'Maybe this is what shock sounds like...' When you forced yourself to look up, the effects of your confession showed.

All of them were pale. Nobody seemed to breath. Nobody talked. You could see them falling when you looked into their eyes. They were all being swallowed by the big black hole that was your disease and there was no safe shore in sight. You broke them...

All of them.

"I'm so sorry-" you whispered. "I'm sorry for doing this to you." None of them reacted. You couldn't stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks anymore. The salty liquid dribbled over your warm skin like raindrops over glass and ran down to your chin. "I wanted to tell you but--I couldn't-you all made me feel so good that finally I stopped worrying about it-I didn't mean to hurt you--please forgive me-" The sobs came out of your mouth like little hickups.

'They hate me--they hate me for breaking them-I'm a terrible person-'

Lucifer suddenly stood up. His jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists. He shoved his chair back and walked around the dinner table until he stood before you. Sadness and anger radiated of him like a upcoming thunderstorm and it scared you.

Would he hurt you? Would he send you back? Would he banish you from the Devildom?

You thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly embraced you in a very thight hug. His fingertips digged deep into the flesh of you back and he hold you so close as if you were going to disappear right on the spot. It took your breath away. "L-Lucifer?-"

The avatar of pride trembled. And there was something wet in your hair...was he crying?! Finally he spoke. His voice broken like a shattered mirror. "You're--telling us--that you're going to die--and still you're-apologizing for it?!-" His grip thightend. "I thought you would hate me now--" you cried desperately. His hug send shivers down your spine. "MC, you're part of our family-We could never hate you-" His voice broke again. "I'm the one who needs to apologize! I ripped you away from your human family! While you have such little time left-I brought you here without checking your whole background-my research was horrible and icomplete-I am the one who has to apologize! Not you! Not you!!" He grabbed you by your shoulders and now you were able to see it. He was really crying. Lucifer, the avatar of pride, was crying. His crimson red eyes were glassy and shimmered with so much regret.

"No-No don't say this Lucifer, please--I'm so happy here--this is my home too-I'm so glad I got the chance to meet all of you-" Your hand reached his wet cheek and he shivered when you did so. "You all made my time so much better than I could've ever imagined-And I'm so grateful-" You whimpered and burried your face in Lucifer's red tie. Your attention was pulled towards Mammon when you heared his sobbing.

*Mammon*:

"This--this is not fair--" Mammon stood up too and he trembled like an earthquake was running through his body. "Finally I meet someone who is nice to me-someone who listens to me-someone who doesn't treat me like shit or like I'm dump--and now-" His thin voice broke in a shaky cry. "I fucking love you-" He broke down and fell to his knees, his face twisted in deep hurt and despair. His glasses and cheeks were already covered in hot, steamy tears and his hands fisted into the rough carpet. Satans hand touched his back but even he did not know what to do. It was a sad single try to calm Mamon down but it didn't work. "Mammon--" you breathed with a hitching voice while still beeing hugged by Lucifer. "I'm sorry-"

"QUIET APOLOGIZING, WILL YA?!" he screamed and then went back to crying hopelessly. His horns showed. He was interrupted by Leviathan's weak voice.

*Leviathan*:

"I-I don't understand-", he whispered and stood next to the quivering Mammon. He looked like he saw a ghost. He was so pale that it looked like he was starting to disappear. His eyes were red and the tears streamed down like little waterfalls. His small frame trembled uncontrollably and his hands were deep inside his pockets. "We were having so much fun together-we were staying up all night together to play videogames-and now this all is--ending?" A new wave of tears gushed over his face. "This wasn't healthy at all--I hurt you-I didn't knew--I-I'm sorry-" His fingers fisted into his lilac hair and he pulled harshly as if he tried to wake himself from this nightmare. "You're my friend---" Asmodeus tried to stop him. "You will get bold-stop-" But he was also not in a good condition. Neither was Satan.

*Satan*:

He normally really payed close attention to his mimic and gesture. But right now...He couldn't even think straight. It was clearly visible that he was deeply upset and his left hand massages his torso like he had a heart attack. "MC-why didn't you tell us sooner?-" There were tears appearing in the corner of his eyes. "I read so much--maybe we could find a magic cure-I newly read a paragraph about-" But you interrupted him right away. "Satan--I know you want to stop it but--there is no solution in no book-I talked with Simeon about it-I asked if he could miracle it away--but he couldn't. He said that only guardian angles are allowed to do such a thing--and they have to be very powerful to do that-and since there are people on earth living under worse conditions-" Your voice broke and Satan looked away in shame when he couldn't stop the tears anymore. He hated not being in control-He would lose you-.

*Asmodeus*:

"God does not throw dice-" Asmodeus whimpered and everyone looked at him. His beautiful eyes were red and puffy from all the crying and not beautiful at all. It looked like he had a terrible allergy against something unknown. But right now he couldn't care less about his appearance. "That's something I always hated about god--They say there is a reason for everything but they won't tell you an actual reason--and then you're still stuck with your problems all by yourself-" He cried out in despair and hid his face behind his fingers. "-without a solution-" he added with a very thin voice. That was just to much for him and he had to cuddle up to Satan for more support. "How can they leave you to die--you-such a perfect human being like you-you should be the top of their creation-how is this possible-." His pink painted fingernails clawed over his flawless skin and left red stripes. He looked like a locked up animal-trying to break free.

*Beelzebub*:

Beelzebub is a quiet soul by nature. Not a man of big and a lot words. And now he seems even more quiet than before. He can't wrap his head around this new, horrible informations. He grew so fond of you, he needs you, you make him feel better-Fuck it all you brought his brother back! And now you're going to be punished with-Death?! That's not fair at all-that's not okay-he can't lose you-not like he lost Belphie-not like he lost Lillith-he-. With big steps he walked towards you and Lucifer. He towers above both of you like a big mountain that's ready to collapse. Without hestiation he pulls you and his oldest brother into a crushing hug. Tears dribble down from his face into your hair and mix with Lucifer's tears. "We can't lose you MC-your family-family means that nobody gets left behind-."

*Belphegor*:

He is the calmest of his brothers. At least it seems like that. He is just sitting there processing what you just said. You are going to die. In less than a year actually. You're going to die and this means that you're going to leave. His eyes flutter in confusion. He was never upset about humans dying. That's what they do. They live, they die. It's that simple. He knew that. He always knew that. He also knew that you were going to die. One day.

...But why so fast?! Why so damn fast?! His heart beats harder, nearly bursting with anger. His tail and horns appear and his whole demon form starts to mainfest in front of you and his brothers. "No!!", he shouts. "I'm not having this! We need to do something-we-" His eyes land on you and that's just to much. "Who do you think you are?! Huh?! You come down here and wreck our worlds, you live with us, you eat with us-you improve our lifes-and-now--" His tail flinches with agression. Belphie's eyes are drowing in tears as his angers makes place for the deep grief that takes over his whole body. He also, like Mammon, falls to his knees. "You can't leave Mc--I need you-"

(Okay I'm gonna leave now, I cried a little bit while writing and...yeah...maybe I'm just sensitive🥺 I hope it's angsty enough though...)

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: Weather Wizard

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Marco “Mark” Mardon, also known as the Weather Wizard. Patient displays symptoms that suggest Borderline Personality Disorder, but I have not had the time to give him a full psychological evaluation. Session One. How are you feeling, Mr. Mardon? 

Weather Wizard: Fine. I guess. Not sure what I’m doing in an insane asylum, though. 

Hugo Strange: I am afraid that the blame for that can be laid at the feet of endless bureaucratic red tape, Mr. Mardon. No one could decide where to house you and the other ‘Rogues’ while Iron Heights Penitentiary is being rebuilt, and so someone, in their endless wisdom, decided to simply send you all to Arkham Asylum, most likely because we are perceived as the logical dumping ground for all costumed criminals. 

Weather Wizard: Oh, okay. Good. I was getting worried that I’d lost my mind without realizing it or something. 

Hugo Strange: So, Mr. Mardon, you call yourself the Weather Wizard. 

Weather Wizard: That’s right. Why? 

Hugo Strange: And you use a device called the Weather Wand in order to manipulate the weather? 

Weather Wizard: That’s also right. Why? 

Hugo Strange: It’s quite an astonishing piece of technology you wield, Mr. Mardon. Did you make it yourself?

Weather Wizard: Me? Make the Weather Wand? (Laughs) I’m not smart enough to do that.

Hugo Strange: So who did invent it, Mr. Mardon?

Weather Wizard: My older brother, Clyde. He was better at science than me. (Pause) Actually, he was better at everything than me. 

Hugo Strange: Clyde Mardon? I remember reading about him in the papers many years ago. From all appearances, he was a very promising young scientist. 

Weather Wizard: Yes, he was. My folks were really proud of him. 

Hugo Strange: What about you, Mr. Mardon? Were you not proud of him? 

Weather Wizard: Of course I was proud of him! Clyde was a genius! (Pause) And I...wasn’t. 

Hugo Strange: Your records indicate that you spent your entire childhood in your brother’s shadow, Mr. Mardon. You could never learn as quickly or jump as high or run as fast as he could, and your parents viewed you as an afterthought at best. He was their golden child, and you? You couldn’t measure up, so you became the scapegoat. Whenever things went wrong, you were the one who got the blame. It would be only natural for you to resent your older brother. 

Weather Wizard: Resent him? (Pause) Yeah, I guess I did. Sometimes I hated him so much that I wished he was dead...but at the same time, I loved him. Clyde...he was the only good thing in my life, you know? He wasn’t like Mamá and Papá. He knew what a screwup I was, but he stuck by me anyway- me, worthless, stupid, pathetic Mark Mardon. It used to make Mamá furious. Clyde was important; he was going places. He couldn’t have his worthless little brother dragging him down for the rest of his life; better just to get rid of me. But he never listened to her. Even after I became a thief, he still didn’t cut ties with me. He said he wanted to help me; that I wasn’t just the worthless waste of space that Mamá and Papá said I was. I didn’t really believe him, but it was...it was nice to know that at least one member of my family didn’t wish that I had never been born. 

Hugo Strange: Your parents told you that they wished you had never been born? 

Weather Wizard: Uh-huh. I don’t remember what exactly led up to it-I think I’d failed an important exam or something like that-but I remember their reaction to whatever it was clear as day. Mamá and I got into a shouting match over whatever it was that I’d screwed up that time, and about a minute in, Mamá looked me dead in the eyes and said “No sé qué te salió mal, pero eres un fracaso, una vergüenza para la familia. ¡Ojalá nunca hubieras nacido!” And then she burst into tears, and Papá grounded me for making her cry. 

Hugo Strange: That is terribly unfortunate, Mr. Mardon. No child should ever have to hear that from their parents. 

Weather Wizard: (Trying to play it cool) It wasn’t that bad, really. I was pretty much used to being insulted by that point. Besides, I still had Clyde. I knew he loved me. Even if he was better than me at everything. 

Hugot Strange: So your relationship with your older brother was more complicated than one might have expected. Fascinating. (Pause) You know, Mr. Mardon, there are rumors that say you killed your brother in order to get the Weather Wand. 

Weather Wizard: Killed him? 

Hugo Strange: Certainly you understand where the rumors come from, Mr. Mardon. An escaped convict, who has lived his entire life in his brother’s shadow up until this point, stumbles into his brother’s isolated lab, only to find that said brother has conveniently dropped dead, having just finished a device that will grant the convict unimaginable power? I have to say that it does sound rather suspicious. 

Weather Wizard: Are you saying that I murdered my brother to get the Weather Wand? 

Hugo Strange: Well, did you, Mr. Mardon? 

Weather Wizard: No! Clyde died of congenital heart failure. The coroner even said so. 

Hugo Strange: And your first instinct upon finding your older brother dead was to steal the Wand he had worked so hard to build? 

Weather Wizard: Well, he wasn’t going to be using it. He was dead; it couldn’t help him anymore. But it could help me. I was so tired of being stupid, lazy, worthlesss Mark Mardon-and being the Weather Wizard meant that I didn’t have to be him anymore. With the Weather Wand, I could finally be someone important! 

Hugo Strange: In other words, you stole the Wand so that you could finally be special, like your older brother had been. 

Weather Wizard: Exactly! Clyde invented the Wand...but I was the one who would use it to master the weather. Oh, Dr. Strange...you have no idea how wonderful it felt to finally be important; to wield the kind of power and know that no one...no one...would ever ignore me again. 

Hugo Strange: And you used this great power to...rob banks and jewelry stores? 

Weather Wizard: What else would I have used it for? 

Hugo Strange: Humanitarian aid comes to mind. Or, if you’re insistent on using the Wand for evil, world domination. You can control the weather, Mr. Mardon! There is virtually no limit to the things you could accomplish! 

Weather Wizard: World domination? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not smart enough to run the world...and besides, it sounds like way too much work. No, I’m happy to stick to the small-time. Less work that way...and less chance for me to screw things up. 

Hugo Strange: For a man who can bend the weather to his whims, Mr. Mardon, you are disturbingly lacking in both self-confidence and ambition. 

Weather Wizard: You should see me when I’m fighting the Flash. I don’t lack self-confidence then. 

Hugo Strange: Ah, yes, your city’s costumed vigilante. I was wanting to talk about him, actually. What sort of relationship do you have with the Flash, Mr. Mardon? 

Weather Wizard: Adversarial, I guess? He’s always getting in the way of my robberies, and that’s pretty annoying, but I’m not obsessed with him or anything. I’m not, like, gonna go out of my way to get his attention. I happen to like being able to successfully escape with my loot. 

Hugo Strange: And he had no influence on your decision to put on a green leotard and start calling yourself the Weather Wizard? 

Weather Wizard: I don’t think so. I mean, I guess it’s possible that he had some influence on my costume design or something without me realizing it, but I didn’t put on a costume because he wears one. 

Hugo Strange: So you wouldn’t stop being the Weather Wizard if the Flash were no longer around? 

Weather Wizard: Of course not! If I’m not the Weather Wizard, I’m a nobody: stupid, pathetic, worthless, useless Mark Mardon. I’m never going back to that life. Never. (Pause) That being said, I do have to admit that there’s a part of me that hopes that the Flash won’t go away. Crime wouldn’t be half so much fun without him around. 

Hugo Strange: First you say that you would prefer to avoid the Flash if you could; then you say that crimes wouldn’t be half so much fun without him. Which is it, Mr. Mardon? Is he a nuisance, or an enjoyable challenge?  

Weather Wizard: (Long pause) I...I don’t know. 

Hugo Strange: Then allow me to offer my theory, Mr. Mardon. I think you have Borderline Personality Disorder. 

Weather Wizard: I have what? 

Hugo Strange: Borderline Personality Disorder. It’s a mental illness characterized by mood swings, impulsive behavior, feelings of boredom or emptiness, an unstable, distorted self-image, and, perhaps most relevantly to this conversation, unstable interpersonal relationships. Your relationship with your brother was like this-you claim that he was the best thing in your life and that you wished that he was dead-and so, I think, is your relationship with the Flash. When you are in a relatively good mood, he is a fun challenge; when you are more stressed, he is an inconvenience you would prefer to avoid. Either way, he exacerbates your condition. 

Weather Wizard: (Muttering) So my parents were right. I really am a lunatic. Great. 

Hugo Strange: You are not a lunatic, Mr. Mardon. You are a man who needs to learn how to properly manage life with a difficult disease. But don’t worry. I am here to help you. 

[voidcat]

– pieces, scattered (around)

characters: oikawa tooru, you

info: comfort (maybe slice of life if u squint), 2.1k words

a/n: been listening to Last Words of A Shooting Star (Mitski) & Dreams Fall Hard (Car Seat Headrest) on repeat since yesterday... this is a cry for help-

By the time you hear approaching footsteps behind you, the cold has long past infiltrated your bones, making you unable to feel it at all.

You don’t bother to turn your head to greet him, already knowing how his steps sound and rhyme, years of unwanted experienceyou call that.

Just as you don’t bother to address him, Oikawa doesn’t bother to say anything as he sits down to your right on the dirty pavement. Vast, empty space all around the two of you, all kinds of trash and forgotten memories lying around, cast aside; it hasn’t been this full for years, and now, your presence and Oikawa’s break it, like a seal forgotten.

Knees to your chest, arms resting on top, and on them your head weighs down.

“A voice inside me told me I’d find you there.” Oikawa says.

His form seems more relaxed, not that you turn to observe how he sits, examine his posture, the way he rests his arms behind him, feet more scattered around.

“I didn’t think anyone would notice I was gone.” you say in a whisper. Not that you mean to, it’s just a tiring day.

You can picture him already, and yourself, in the familiar uniforms of beige and blue, hear a dry chuckle coming from his way, maybe turning his head to look at you and make a playful remark, or deciding to be serious like one of these rare times and reply with a short statement you’d not expect.

Oikawa doesn’t do any of these, instead he sighs out loud, resting his weight on his arms again, resting back, shoulders slopping, –with the sigh, you can hear all that weight he pretends doesn’t exist piling up on him, breaking that straight back everyone is so used to see and make him lose a centimeter or three.

“You always had a habit of being distant while your little friends were present, watching us or chit chatting.”

“Didn’t think anyone noticed.” You pause, “Then again, you’ve always been observant.”

“I’d prefer ‘You’ve always been better than others.’ but this works too.” You smile at this, it feels, normal, more than you could hope for.

Despite the minimum time you and Oikawa shared before, it feels like the calming sense of safety you get before you fall asleep, when it’s a sunny afternoon or a calm evening. And when you think about it, was there even a time it was just the two of you in a room, alone? You’d recall it if that were the case, because as much as you roll your eyes at what he said, he hasalways been something else, entirely.

“And what brings you to a forgotten sidewalk at this hour, when everyone else is back at the party thrown in, in your honor?” you raise your head then, as Oikawa stares straight ahead.

“What’s wrong with the hour?” his words come out, disinterested.

“You’re avoiding the question.” You state in a stern voice. Whatever peace you had a moment ago shattered.

He sighs, and you think you can hear the hint of a smile in it, “It’s not like I’d spend all my limited time back here at a stupid party.” He says as he shakes his head slightly.

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that, “Yourparty.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s stupid.” He turns to you, a sheepish smile etched onto his face. “Besides, when’s the last time we shared some quality time together?”

“February 31st 2012, if I remember correctly.”

The small falls from his face, confusion clear until it’s wiped off with laughter, a genuine one you’re sure you’ve only heard from him once. Never in your life, you think, you cared about the honesty of Oikawa Tooru’s reactions and whether you could get one out of him yourself. Yet now that it has happened, you feel… content, accomplished, in a way.

Wiggling your index finger in the air, you put on a more dramatic voice: “Now now, don’t go soft on me and confess how you returned to see me. That would be a blow to the many devotees of the Grand King.” This only multiplies Oikawa’s laughter, to the point of making him tear up.

‘Nice one.’ You can hear in his laughter as he clutches his stomach and you direct your gaze back ahead, without realizing the smile on your face.

Soon later, his voice dies out slowly, without alerting either of you.

“I don’t get how you do it sometimes.” You break the silence after a while although your voice is barely louder than the wind.

Oikawa doesn’t glance at you, nor does he speak a word, –deciding to wait for you.

Head falling, resting your forehead to your knees, “How you can never falter, how you keep going and going, pushing, fighting… Just- how do you find that will in you, the ambition, the wish to do things?” hands falling to both sides, clutching at nothing, you stare at the tiny grains on the ground, in the cement.

“I feel like falling sometimes, you know. Or- wait, drowning. I’m drowning, until I let the water take me in, surround me completely and I feel comfort in it again. No more struggling, I am one with the water and it is with me. Doesn’t feel cold on my skin, it doesn’t feel like anything.”

Arms gathered front again, you itch your right wrist without noticing.

“In the air, when I’m standing, walking, sleeping, sitting, doing anything, I can feel my body. I can feel the air around me. It has turned against me. And the air feels hostile, sharp.”

“And the water-“ you raise your head and take in a deep breath, “the water is welcoming.”

“I feel like all I do is waste away my life, my time, and I don’t even feel bad about it. No guilt, not until the last moment. All these years have passed, I’ve come this far and- I’m still so utterly, completely lost.” The last part comes out in a sob and a choke.

Oikawa watches you the whole time, every time you breath in, he breaths out; whenever you sigh, he holds his breath, body never moving, eyes never blinking. Still, like he is made of glass.

The silence falls again, and heavy it does. Like glass shards raining down, pricking at your skin and only then Oikawa puts his hand on your right wrist before you can itch and pick again.

At the sudden contact, you look up, thinking you’ll be seeing Oikawa, but in his stead, stands someone you only saw from afar, maybe never saw at all. Without a mask he bothers to keep on, he seems foreign, a stranger.

The ‘Don’t.’ hangs in the air and in his eyes.

Only when you pull your left hand back to your lap, does he let go of your wrist.

“I know,” he begins “that no word of confirmation about how ‘you shouldn’t push yourself to be productive every day’ will help, or saying it’s alright to feel lost and look for something. You must know these already.”

“But ask yourself this: are you feeling this overwhelmed over these only because of yourself or does anyone partake in that? Would you feel like a waste if we weren’t forced to shoulder all these responsibilities and past hopes of our parents from our childhoods?”

“I-“ he cuts you off before you can speak up again, to further argue, to prove a point, your point.

“Look at Makki for once!” he sounds angry. “Unemployed, not living up to the dream life some would expect him to be, all these years of sweating blood and tears and he is not even mentioning the ‘s’ of sports.” Turning his body to you as well, he faces you fully, arm and hand gestures never stopping for a second.

“Do you think he is fully content where is? Do you think he doesn’t any days where he regrets the choices he had made, the paths he have taken? Do you think he never ever, not even once, considered Mattsun’s joke about selling foot photos for money?”

With each question he says, you feel yourself shrinking more, selfish, a part of you hisses; spoiled, another voice is about to join in –then you hear Oikawa’s latest words and get pulled away from inside your head.

“Did he seriously consider that?” you sound meek, frowning internally.

“Oh, he even designed a promo banner and opened a burner account. Took us quite the struggle to change his mind.” He says matter-of-factly. You giggle a little, missing the way he tilts his head watches you with another expression you wouldn’t decode.

This escape is short lived, not enough to distract you from all your worries and doubts.

Your smile falls back short afterwards, face returning to its default state, lips downward, a moody expression watching the world outside.

And a part of this world outside, Oikawa watches you, a lot on his mind and not a single one seems fit to be spoken out loud.

The stillness of your body bleeds into the scenery before him a little painfully.

Blending in without a bother, as if that is what you see yourself worthy of, where you’ve come from and where you’ll end up. Cold, gray stones that no one gives the time of the day, nobody bothers to keep them clean or throw their trash at. Just a place all too like anything else.

The sun is cold, the air hangs low, a gray filter pulled over the world,

He almost misses your words, embroidered into the idle day. “Why make us all have dreams,” you raise your head as you say the rest, a sad smile on your face “-if they’ll all fall, crashing down one day?”

“I’m sorry your bright young boy is dying.” You sing, done speaking and return to the lifeless state you were in, long before he got here.

“Then don’t.” Oikawa says.

“Don’t dream big, don’t force yourself, or force yourself into a mood you won’t fully fit in.”

“Isn’t it enough to crave a sweet in the middle of something and go get it in the evening? Is it not enough to get survive each day, remember to eat and drink, sleep and think?”

“I know” he turns to you then, “it must sound rich, coming from the guy who always preaches ‘Hit it til you break it.’ But that doesn’t necessarily mean breaking yourself in the process.”

Not meeting his gaze, you stay as you were, trying to shut him down, shut the musicdown, drown out the noises but there is no static noise tingling in the air.

Yet seeing how your posture has changed, shoulders tense and fingers no longer latching onto anything they come in contact with, Oikawa knows to keep going and speaking.

“No one truly knows what they’re doing, and whoever claims they do, is bullshitting.” thisearns him a smile and he returns it with one of his own although you cannot see.

“Dream small, take it easy. No big dream is worth breaking yourself in the process. Else, how can you enjoy it if you’re not there to live in it?”

You tense when you feel his hand on your back, a consolation, perhaps, an olive branch.

“Why did you come here in the first place, Tooru, really?”

“Honestly? I don’t know it myself.” The words come out of if without an ease. And why wouldn’t they?

For all this time you’ve known him, Oikawa had a way with words; knowing how to speak and in which tone, what to say and when.

Speaking was like breathing to him, like playing volleyball; almost on instinct and good at it.

And it was his turn to look ahead again, eyes focused on nothing, his hand already drawn back to himself.

“Even if there’s a reasoning within me, it’s not clear to me. But I am here now, I chose to come, and I would’ve left long ago if you truly wanted me gone.”

“Thank you.” You say when the night has fallen.

“Don’t thank me for voicing the things you already had here.” He taps the side of his head.

“It’s a pretty sky tonight.” You say in a whisper, “There’s nothing up there, must be light pollution.” He says in a whine and you can almost hear him pout.

“We don’t need to see them to know that the stars are up there.” You say to him then, and he meets your eyes.

‘I guess you’re right.’ is in the air, not needed to be spoken out loud.

And Tooru’s hand is holding yours again, fingers stroking over the nail marks you left hours ago, already beginning to heal.

[heejinnien]

i.jaebum & p.jinyoung | crimson roses part one

word count: 3k

pairing: jaebum x reader x jinyoung

synopsis: when y/n’s sister is murdered, she’s forced to evaluate everything that she thought she knew.

genre: mystery, witsec au

warnings: the reader is in a club (they’re old enough to legally be there), murder, gore, imagery used to describe the reader tripping over and finding a dead body, probably incorrect portrayal of the witsec program, there’s a mildly disturbing nightmare

rating: pg-17

author’s note: this is part one of the walking on sunshine event! it focuses on summer beginnings. i was partnered with @dreamystuffers​, and credits to them for the amazing moodboard! thank you @birbdae​ and ryan for being my beta readers. seriously, thank you for filling in all the spaces where i wrote blah blah 

“I freaking hate Tzuyu.”

You groan, dropping your head in your hands. Sympathetically, the bartender slides a glass of water towards you, accepting the grunt that you emit afterwards as a sort of thank you. You pause in your wallowing to take a long sip of the icy liquid, feeling the pressure in your head lift slightly.

“Rough night?”

The bartender’s smooth, baritone voice carries over the loud sounds of the club’s music, and you wince at his words.

“Something like that.”

The bartender looks as though he’ll say more, but he’s cut off by the sound of a high, feminine voice ordering another drink. You’re grateful for the distraction, sliding a wad of bills over the counter and slipping off of the metal stool. You appreciate the kindness he has shown you, but you really need to start looking for your sister.

Slowly, you begin to weave through the throng of clubgoers, searching for anyone who moderately resembles your sister. You wince as an elbow connects with your stomach and bite back a curse when a heel stabs your toe. Still, there is no sign of your sister.

Pushing your way to the far side of the club, you lean against a wall, panting slightly, and pull out your phone. The LED at the top signals that nobody tried to call or text you while you were struggling to navigate a mob of drunk clubgoers, and a knot of worry tightens itself in your stomach. It’s been over an hour since you last saw your sister. She left you at a booth with a few of your mutual acquaintances to go dance, and you haven’t seen her since. Giving them an awkward smile, you had slid out of the booth to go sit at the bar. You were more polite to them because they were your sister’s friends than anything, and you know you hadn’t been imagining the awkwardness that had settled into the air once your sister had left.

You quickly swipe through your phone, silently praying that Tzuyu will answer and tell you she took a cab back to your shared apartment and she forgot to tell you, or that she’s actually been in the bathroom constipated this entire time.

“Hi, this is Tzuyu, I’m busy right now, which is why I didn’t pick up…”

With a groan, you turn your phone off. Pushing yourself off the wall, you weave your way to the bathrooms, opting to begin your second search there. Unsurprisingly, the small metal stalls are empty. You cringe as your shoe sticks to an unknown substance, exiting the bathroom and mind racing about where Tzuyu’s whereabouts could be.

A cool breeze winds itself around you, tousling your hair gently and you freeze.

A breeze?

You turn away from the rest of the clubbers, following the hallway deeper into the building. The further you go, the darker it gets, and a second chill sets upon you, one unrelated to the cool breeze.

Heart pounding, you turn the corner and see a cracked doorway. The soft light of the night greets you, and you feel a spark of relief. Maybe her phone died and your sister went out this door to leave. You quickly hurry out the door, pushing it open and turning down the alleyway.

You’ve only gone a few paces, pulling out your phone to dial your sister again when your foot collides with something hard. Your arms flail as you attempt to right yourself, but you go down, your elbow colliding with something soft and your chin colliding with the hardness of the asphalt.

Letting out a groan, you try to push yourself up by pressing your hands against the ground on either side of you, but they slip. Something wet and sticky coats your hands, and confusion fills you as you blindly reach around you for your phone. Your fingers connect with the cold metal, and you’ve scarcely turned on the device and activated the flashlight before you’re greeted with the mutilated body of your sister.

It takes you a second to register that the loud noise you hear is your own screaming.

You stare blankly ahead of you in shock.

Vaguely, you hear someone talking to you, but it’s like you’re underwater, all the sounds around you muffled. The image of your sister is frozen in your mind, your fingers trembling as you grip the blanket that someone wrapped around you tightly.

You think back to the last time you saw her, only a few hours ago, smiling and joyous and alive.

If she were here with you right now, she would have something comforting to say. She’d always been the more level of you too, somehow able to keep calm even in situations when you’ve felt panicked. But she’s not.

It should have been me, you think bitterly, rocking back and forth.

“Miss L/N.”

A hand settling on your arm causes you to jump and pull yourself out of your trance. Dumbly, you look at the hand, using it to trace your way up the unknown person’s wrist and arm until you can see their face. Concerned eyes stare back at you, and you force yourself to listen to what the unknown man is saying.

“I’m sorry to say this, but your clothes need to be bagged for evidence.”

You blink, unable to process the man’s words. 

“Miss L/N, please. I know you want us to catch whoever did this to your sister, and we’re trying our best, but we need to bag your clothing as evidence.”

The mention of your sister clears the fog that has settled over you, and you nod. Weakly, you stand, following the man as he guides you to a restroom. He hands you a bag and a stack of clothes, instructing for you to change into the new set and bag the old clothes.

Robotically, you do as he tells you to until you’re changed into a sweater several sizes too big and a pair of jeans that cling to your legs tightly. You splash water on your face, staring at yourself hollowly in the mirror. You hardly recognize yourself, a foreign, hollow look in your eyes. Get it together, Y/N, you chide yourself. You can cry about this later. For Tzuyu.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you turn, exiting the bathroom with the bag of your old clothes in your hands. As soon as you exit, several furtive glances are sent your way. You furrow your brows in confusion, and a new, unknown man hurries over to you. 

“Please follow me quickly, Miss L/N.”

“I don’t understand.”

The man doesn’t respond, hurrying you through the station and down a hallway until you’re stopped in front of a closed door. A plaque centered on the door  reads “Sergeant Park.” Not wasting the time to knock, the man pushes open the door, taking the bag from your hands and ushering you in.

“Miss L/N, I’m so sorry about your loss.”

Hearing those words makes your throat tighten again, and you force your feelings down. You look around you, noting the awards adorning the walls around you. Two men stand inside the office, both wearing grim expressions. The one who spoke is seated behind the desk, and he stands, gesturing for you to take the free seat opposite him.

“There’s something we need to talk to you about.”

“My sister was a good person, she wasn’t mixed up in anything — ” You protest.

“That’s not what this is about.” The man opposite you, Sergeant Park, you assume, holds up his hand. “Time is crucial here, so please just listen to what I have to tell you.”

You nod, throat clogging from fearful anticipation.

“The Black Rose is the name of a powerful crime syndicate who’ve been running for the past few decades. We’ve tried our best to stop them, but they have connections everywhere.”

“My sister — ” You spring to your feet.

“Miss L/N. Please.”

You sink back into the chair, cheeks burning and thoroughly chastised. Once you’re seated, Sergeant Park continues.

“We’re not sure who all is involved with them, but what we do know is that they mark every kill, and they never kill without reason.”

Your thoughts race as you hear the unspoken words. “And my sister was marked,” you deadpan.

Sergeant Park nods grimly, and a hysterical laugh bubbles up within you. It dies instantly at the serious expression on Sergeant Park’s face.

“That’s ridiculous.”

Sergeant Park purses his lips, speaking slowly. “Until we know for sure, we need you to go into witness protection. We promise that we wouldn’t make you do this if we weren’t sure that your life is at serious risk. Mr. Im?”

Sergeant Park gestures to the other person in the room, who you assume is Mr. Im. Until now, he’s been silent, and you almost forgot that he’s here. He gives you a gentle smile.

“Please, call me Jaebum.” His tone is soothing, and you want to trust him. Still, you bite your lip, hesitant.

Sergeant Park speaks again. “Mr. Im will protect you the entire duration of the program. I promise that you’re in good hands. You guys will leave tonight.”

Alarm bells ring in your head. “Wait, tonight? I don’t understand. I still have finals, and what about my life here — ”

“Miss L/N.” Sergeant Park fixes you with a stern look. “I understand that things may seem intimidating right now, but I need you to do your best to do what we say. You could be a key role in this investigation, and Mr. Im is here to ensure that no harm comes to you. I know that this isn’t ideal, but please just let us protect you.”

You look from Sergeant Park to Jaebum. The latter gives you a reassuring smile, and your head still reels from all of the events of the night, but you find yourself nodding.

“Okay,” you breathe. “Okay, what do I have to do?”

“You keep twisting your bracelet.”

Jaebum’s voice pierces through your mindless thoughts and the dull monotony of the journey. You have been driving for the better part of the night, your thoughts still racing as you try to process everything. You look down at the bracelet Jaebum is talking about, and even though it’s dark you know what he’s talking about.

“My sister gave it to me,” you say simply.

“It must be pretty important to you, then,” he observes, eyes never straying once from the road.

“Something like that,” you say, assuming that’s the end of the conversation. Seconds later, Jaebum speaks again.

“Look, Y/N, I know that a lot has happened in one night — ”

“Please don’t,” you whisper, voice cracking. You clear your throat, staring out the window at the dark shadows of the landscape. “Don’t try to act like you understand how I feel. Twenty-four hours ago I was just a college student, and now…”

You swallow thickly, a lump forming itself in your throat.

“You are still just a college student, Y/N.”

“You know, aren’t you supposed to be using my new name?” You force yourself to change the topic, looking at Jaebum out of the side of your eyes.

Jaebum coughs awkwardly. “We aren’t there yet, and I thought that using your real name would make you more…comfortable with me.”

You scoff, but don’t speak. Awkward silence fills the car, interrupted only by the occasional sound of the night from outside your car window.

You remain like that for the rest of the ride. Everytime you think about saying something, you bury it, not wanting to show interest.

After a while, the road turns to dirt. The car bounces along the new road, and you can’t help but feel even further isolated from your old life. Jaebum pulls down a narrow driveway, and then the car stops, bathing a small cottage in the car’s light. Jaebum turns off the car’s ignition, and as you open the car’s door, you can hear the soft sound of waves crashing. Sand crunches beneath your shoes as you take in the sights around you.

You hear the sound of the trunk close, and seconds later Jaebum rounds the car, duffel bags gripped in his hands.

“This is it,” Jaebum says.

“I guess so,” you agree, exhaling nervously. You follow Jaebum up the cottage’s steps, hovering uncertaintly as he unlocks the front door. Following him inside, you squint against the bright  yellow lights of the cottage.

You’re standing in a small living room. To your left is the kitchen and what you assume is the dining room, and to the right is a hallway. Jaebum leads you down the hallway, setting one of the duffle bags in front of a plain, unassuming white door.

“This is your room. Mine is right next to you.” Jaebum knocks goofily on the door in front of him, and you let out a short laugh.

“Okay.”

You grab your bag, pushing open the door to the room. You pause in the doorway, unsure. “Good night, Jaebum.”

A moment passes, and then you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Tzuyu! Where are you?”

You’re in a meadow, tall stalks of wheat reaching your shoulders. You frown, trying to remember how you got here, but you can’t. Alarm bells ring in your head, and you push through the stalks, searching for your sister.

“Tzuyu! Tzuyu! Where — are — you?”

Your voice is reflected back at you, distorted and garbled. Panic rises in you, bubbling hot like lava, and you begin to push through the stalks around you faster.

Finally, you stumble upon a clearing. A flock of birds takes flight, and your eyes scan the clearing, frantic. A body lies on the ground unmoving, and you run towards it.  Deep in your gut you know who it is, but that doesn’t stop the gasp that leaves you as you clearly identify the girl lying there.

It’s Tzuyu.

The sight of her body makes you freeze, and before you can stop it you trip. When you regain your bearings, you’re back in the alley again. You blink, trying to orient yourself, and as you do Tzuyu’s hand shoots out, wrapping itself around your wrist. A scream gets choked in your throat as your sister sits up,  smile stretching too wide for her face.

“Why didn’t you save me?”

“Tzuyu, you’re hurting me,” you cry, trying to pry your sister’s grasp from your wrist. She only holds on tighter, other hand shooting out and wrapping itself around your throat.

“Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you SAVE ME?”

A scream tears its way out of your throat, and you shoot into a sitting position, clutching the comforter you had admired just hours earlier against you. Your breathing is ragged, and dimly you hear heavy footsteps. Seconds later, harsh light floods your room and you throw your hand against your forehead, shielding your eyes from the intrusion.

Jaebum’s eyes are wild as he takes in your room, the way you’re sitting up, clutching the comforter against you. His muscles relax as he ascertains that you are physically safe, eyes softening at the sight of you.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, embarrassment beginning to seep through your previous horror.

“I’m sorry, had a nightmare.” You force yourself to laugh, the sound an octave too high to be believable. “You can just go back to your room, everything is fine.”

You swallow forcefully, staring down at the comforter and picking at a thread that has unwound itself from the careful stitching. Silently, you yell at Jaebum to leave. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand being mortified, discomfort seeping into the air around you.

After a long pause, you hear the gentle click of your door close. You don’t bother to look up, instead electing to close your eyes, sure that by the count of ten, he’ll be gone.

You’ve just reached eight when you feel your bed dip, and strong arms wrapping themselves around you. You stiffen, eyes snapping open to glare at the offender.

“You don’t have to treat me like a baby, I told you that I’m fine.”

“It’s okay to be weak you know.”

To your immense horror, you feel your eyes begin to well. You blink rapidly, trying to untangle yourself from Jaebum’s presence, but he holds on tightly. Before you can stop it, all of the emotions of the past twenty-four hours hit you, crashing against the gate that you had shoved them behind. The emotions you felt at your sister’s death, the emotional burden of having to suddenly end your old life and going into hiding suddenly become too much, and before you can help it tears stream down your cheeks. You gasp as you struggle to breathe, everything suddenly just becoming too much.

Time goes by without either of you realizing it, and neither of you know how long you remain in that position, Jaebum patting your back lightly as your grief pours out of you. After a few sniffles and swipes across your eyes you let out a groan, pulling away and digging the heels of your palms into your eyes.

“God, I can’t believe I just did that.”

“It’s okay, everyone has to let go of emotions at some point.” Jaebum gives you a gentle smile. “You should try to get some rest.”

“Will you stay with me?” Jaebum’s eyes widen, and you quickly scramble to backtrack. “I mean, you don’t have to — I don’t know what I was thinking — ”

“Of course I will.” Jaebum cuts off your ramble, smiling brightly. “I’ll just bring in a blanket from my room and sleep on the floor — ”

“You can share with me if you want. I don't mind; we both need a good night sleep, right?” You blurt quickly, panting slightly as you finish your question. Jaebum simply laughs, running a hand through his hair. He climbs onto the bed and lays on his side, patting the bed next to him. Shyly, you crawl next to him, laying down and trying not to think about the position you’re in too deeply.

Wrapped in the comfort of Jaebum’s warmth, you close your eyes, focusing on the gentle sounds of your breathing. A sense of tranquility washes over you, and you finally fall asleep.

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[oh-styles]

Something About a Beginning: Part II

First off, I want to thank each and every one of you for your immense patience. (More so than others, but I digress.) Writing on such topics when you yourself aren’t in the most healthiest mentality is a struggle alone, but we got here. 

Second off, if you haven’t read the first part, you can so here. These chapters implicate bouts of depression and talks of miscarriage, so read at your own will. 

I do want to note that I mention Robin in this story, and I was hesitant to include him because I felt it wasn’t appropriate, because he shouldn’t be used as entertainment purposes (i.e. in stories) but I mention him only with love and respect.

Again, thank you for your patience, and happy reading.

July 3, 2019 London, England

Harry lost his girl.

She vanished in the night – gone with the wind – and all that remained was a ghost of a woman, transparent and bleak. He hasn’t seen her smile since that night, coming close to a week now, and his gut retches at the thought he might never get his girl back.

She’s buried herself in the sheets; the window is opened a crack, and he spots an empty bottle of melatonin laying overturned on her bedside table. He stares intently at her body, watching as the sheets rise and fall to the pattern of her placid breathing, and he thinks for a moment that she’s finally found herself a better place. Not dead—not by any means. Whatever dream world she has found herself delved in, he knows she might have found a sliver of peace there, hopefully smiling.

“She’s sleeping, mum.” Harry says into his phone, taking a step back to gently close the bedroom door. “Rande and Cindy invited us to Muskoka but…” His words hung in the air, like the elephant in the room, but his mother knew all too well what was lingering on the precipice of her sons’ tongue.

But she’s too depressed.

But she can’t go a day without crying.

But I don’t think she has the energy to leave the house.

It’s been four days since the attack, and Harry hasn’t seen her take a step outside of their bedroom.

“Love, she’s wasting away in there. It might help her a little to get out, get some sun…”

“Mum, I can’t even get her to sit in the fucking garden.” He can hear his mother’s nettled sigh on the other end of the line, but how can anyone expect him to put her on a mother fucking airplane if she can’t even bother to walk the 30 meters to the fucking garden? “The sodding paps were outside the house last night.”

“They can’t—”

“I’m aware.” He begins to descend his way down the stairs, stopping to peer out from the front window – an old, worn out habit. “I think it’s best we get away for a bit. The story hasn’t died down… I think it’ll help—getting away. They won’t bother us there.”

Harry knew your answer before he even had the chance to ask; he knew he was wasting his time in even suggesting such a thing, but the guilt would eat away at him if he didn’t even try.

“Muskoka…Canada, remember? We went there last year.” He sat at the edge of the bed, running a hand over the sheets where a peek of your shoulder laid exposed. “It’ll be quiet. Nobody there to bug us. If you want to just hang out in the hotel room the whole time, I’d be fine with that. It’s just…”

I can’t stand to see you burrowed away another day.

“I’m really worried about you… I’m just trying to help.” He was powerless, and he knew it. He couldn’t take her by the arm and force her on a plane, but god forbid he try his damned hardest. “No paps, nobody. I promise. I wouldn’t take you there if it wasn’t safe.”

He feels a stir beneath him, and from underneath the covers, a small hand inches outward and lays upward, a silent plea for intimacy—a piece of familiarity he hasn’t touched in days. He reaches out and clasps her hand in his, and readjusts himself to lay beside her.

“You can think about it. I don’t need an answer this second, but give it a day or two, okay?”

He sees her nod, and her eyes blink open to meet his, only for a second, before they are closed once again for the remainder of the night.

*

July 6, 2019 Ontario, Canada

Muskoka came and went. Nothing advantageous to really capture your attention, though you kept your head nestled low in a book for most of your stay. You tossed a couple Stephen King novels into your bags without much thought, and by the time your trip was coming to an end, you had already completed one and started another.

A photo made its rounds online of you at dinner with Harry, Rande and Cindy, and even thinking back to that night, you couldn’t recount a time where you felt a pair of eyes boring at your table. You think it might be because you paid more attention to the drink menu than your friends, but you digressed. They only saw the back of your head, and not even the photographer mentioned you. You were also mistaken for Kaia on a couple occasions.

After Muskoka, you were back in London, and not much later Harry would be jetting off to Italy for Google Camp, and a few days after that, he was set to fly to Mexico for a video shoot. He was redundant to go, and even called Jeff to see if they could reschedule, but that would cause a delay for the next video they’d film only a week later. He asked if you wanted to join him, and you kindly declined. You were much aware of his past video sets, and how common it was to see photos and videos leaked online, and you were far from interested to be included.

You were much happier to find yourself under the watchful eyes of Anne Twist.

“I can meet you in Scotland if I’m feeling up to it.” You knew it was a scorching lie crawling right off your tongue, but if it meant he carried some hope with him, then you would feed him whatever white lies you could muster. Even Anne knew better than to believe you.

“I think Canada was good for you, love, but you need some rest, too. Can’t be travelling all over the bloody world, now, can you?”

It was a nice feeling to know she had your back.

In another life would a little green monster be envious of missing such a trip to Cancun, but the only desires you had were sitting in Anne’s garden being force fed a steady cup a tea and a plate of biscuits.

Anne didn’t pry; she knew well what you needed, but she would be keeping her sons promise on keeping you safe, and she knew there was no safer place for you to be.

It was August now, and the heat felt suffocating. You and Anne spent your mornings walking to the bakery her son once worked in, grabbing a quick breakfast before heading to the park. You would pick off pieces of your croissant and toss it at the squirrels, but you almost always scared them off. Anne told stories of when Harry was a child, and how he once tried to tell her Gemma was a drug dealer.

“She was only a child,” she hummed, laughing into her coffee. “But he was always a character to have around.”

“I feel like…between you and me, right?” You could hear in the distance the sound of a goose honking and a group of children wailing, running away. “I just…don’t want to upset him.”

Anne reached over and took your hand in hers. “Anything you say is always safe with me, love.”

“I’m mad he left me here.” There was a short beat, but you could feel your throat close, and that anger begin to well up in your chest. “This…this is also…”

“I know, love.” She scooted closer, squeezing your hand. “Everyone has their own ways of dealing with grief. Harry isn’t good at sitting around… Even when Robin passed, he didn’t like to sit. He needed to go do something.”

You remember, and yet you still recall him lying on his mother’s couch in tears. You don’t think he’s cried since the two of you left the hospital a couple weeks ago.

“He loves you, darling. He calls me every day to check in on you. Don’t think for a second he doesn’t care.”

Even with her words, you felt something was missing.

*

Harry was only in Scotland for a couple days before he was finally home, but it wouldn’t be long before he would be venturing off to Italy – again – for another work-related conquest. You weren’t sure why he was so content with country hopping every couple of weeks instead of resting at home with you, but you didn’t bother bludgeoning him with questions.

“After I’m through with Italy—I won’t even be there a day—I’ll be back home, but a couple weeks later, I have to go to LA for some meetings… I’d like you to come, if that’s okay.”

Again. There’s always something. It must be so fucking difficult to stay in one place for more than a couple weeks with your grieving girlfriend.

“Also…I was meaning to ask you. Ariana is in town in a few days… Wanted to know if you wanted to come with me and the guys… I think it’ll be fun.”

“Your child died a month ago and you want to go to a fucking Ariana Grande concert.” The words fell helplessly from you, but it was weeks of anguish and neglect that hit its final tier, and you were quite tired of hanging on. “Tell me….how does that make sense to you?”

“Excuse me?” For the first time that night, he looked at you. All before, he found excuses to shift his glances to anything but you, maybe in fear of reality finally hitting him in the face with what he’s been running from for weeks, but for the first time that night, he bared his eyes down at you, and his mouth fell open.

“I’m sorry—have I been hallucinating you just picking your shit up and leaving every chance you get?”

“I’ve had work—” He took to his feet, swiftly flinging his hand out to close the lid of his luggage.

“Any normal person—I swear, any normal person would stay home, and fucking grieve, except you, who wants to fucking fly everywhere and work, because that would require facing his fucking prob—”

“I have a job—I know it’s hard for you to relate to that, but I have commitments—”

“And what am I then? If not a commitment, then what, Harry?”

“You are a commitment—”

“Then where have you been? Why have I been staying with your mother? I know you invited me to go with you, but I shouldn’t have to. I’m fucking hurting, Harry! I don’t want to go to Cancun and Italy—I want to be here with you. Do you know how fucking hard it’s been dealing with this without you here?”

For once, he was silent, but he shifted on his feet.

“You haven’t cried. Not since the hospital. I can’t count how many times I’ve cried, and you sit around texting your band or going to video shoots… If you feel nothing—no grief or anything…if you didn’t even want the baby, just tell me. Make this easier on me, please.”

“How the fuck can you say that I didn’t want the baby? My heart is fucking hurt!”

“Then act like it!”

“You really think I can sit around every day and watch you fall apart? I have to be the strong one… If it can’t be you, then it has to be me, and I don’t like watching you hurt.”

“You know…you sometimes have a really shitty way showing people you care about them.”

You stood there, arms folded in resistance, and he couldn’t take his eyes from off the floor. He felt cornered, and he was defenseless with nothing else left to give. His bags still laid on the bed, clothes scattered over the sheets ready to be put up, and you knew this room was no place for you. Your purse was downstairs, and your phone in your pocket.

“I’m going to stay with Gemma tonight. I’ll have her pick me up. Please don’t follow me out.” 

*

She’s always been the quiet one.

The first time she met you, at a family gathering you were reluctant to attend despite the persistent reassurance from your other half, she knew from the moment she saw you that you were different from all the others. You held yourself different, much shorter, like you knew you could never become the center of attention.

You studied the room, holding onto Harry’s hand as he introduced you to his mother, and that’s when Gemma appeared from over her mother’s shoulder.

“About time I meet you,” she chuckled, reaching her hand out. “I’m Gemma.”

She watches you now from the edge of the driveway, sitting on the steps of the porch with only the light above you illuminating your surroundings. From behind you, she spotted the silhouette of her brother peeking through the curtains, keeping a close eye for just in case.

Your track record wasn’t a good one.

As she approaches, you perk your head up with a sigh of relief. For the first time, she was the Styles you nothing but needed.

“Come on, Magoo,” she chirps as she finally reaches you, lifting her hand out for you to take. “We can hit the McDonald’s drive-thru.”

Laura Nyro played over her car stereo, a melodious tune you recall hearing once before on a long drive in Cheshire. You shut your eyes, and the memory floods you like a storm, like a stampede parading across your chest, and you lean over to rest your head on the window.

Gemma reached her hand over to find yours, giving it three squeezes of solace.

I. Love. You.

The cut that was tucked away in your hairline was in its last stages of healing, and a scar would most certainly take its place. You always felt the erratic throbbing, like a little reminder that no matter how far you run, your problems will always be chasing you like the devil.

“Did I make a mistake?”

Gemma turned her attention from the road, lifting your hand up with hers, and planting a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“No, Magoo. I’m sorry to tell you, but you’re dating a dumbass.” She heard a muted hum in response. “Nobody is perfect… Not even that shithead. I can see where he thought what he was doing was okay, because he was sacrificing his feelings for you, but… that’s just not how you do it.”

You could drink to that.

Gemma spotted the golden arches and took a left at the light. “I’m glad you texted me… Haven’t had a bloody girl’s night in ages. It sucks under the circumstances but…” She turned back to you with a wink. “I’ll take what I can get.”

On the journey back to her flat, you pleasantly sipped at your chocolate milkshake and tapped your feet to the music, and even sporadically hummed along to the few chords you knew. It really didn’t take much to please you.

Gemma was never gifted a sister as a child. Though, she did want one, and was thoroughly distraught when her mother brought home a brother all those years ago, she did grow accustomed and grew to love the curly haired boy who she would then share with the world. But the girl beside her, who slurped her drink and choked behind a laugh of a joke about a time traveler who walks into a bar, had burrowed herself deep within her heart, much like she does with any counterpart she meets.

It’s incredibly difficult not to meet this girl and not hold some sort of placement in her life. Her heart is massive, but the love she radiates is gracious and touches anyone who dares get too close.

And the love Gemma has for her is just as the same.

Michal was asleep when the two of you arrived; you knew your way around, and confidently walked to the spare room down the hall, last door on the right. Gemma trailed behind you, holding your milkshake as you flipped on the light, and kicked off your shoes.

Olivia was already sprawled out over the comforter.

“Could you stay with me, tonight?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice, babe.” Gemma smirked, setting your drink down on the bedside table. “Have you ate?”

You shook your head, even trying to recall if you had mustered an appetite to have some breakfast, but even then you think you took a couple bites out of an apple and forgot about it.

“I’ll make you something—actually, Michal and I have spinach ravioli left over… Want me to heat some of that up for you?”

You graciously nodded. “You’re too good for me.”

“I just love you is all.”

The next morning, the spot beside you was visibly vacant, and from down the hall you could vaguely hear a low, sullen voice talking over the sound of the television. Gemma fired back in response, and from your feet, Olivia peeked her head from the covers, turning towards the disrupting noise.

“Let her sleep—she’s exhausted—”

“Just give me five bloody minutes!”

You knew any chance of sleep you wish you had was far gone.

“I’m up—just fucking talk!” You hollered into your pillow, your eyes still adjusting to the sunlight cascading into the room. You could guess it wasn’t any later than nine that morning, and before you had a moment to check, his unquestionable footsteps neared your door, and you heard a light tap. “I’m obviously awake.”

After you walked out the night before, he ignored your wishes and followed you downstairs where the shortest reaction he got from you was the front door slamming in his face.

“Can I talk?”

I don’t know, can you?

“You literally came here and woke me up from some incredible sleep, mind you, and you’re asking me if you can talk.” He was in a blind panic and darted his eyes around the room. “Well, talk.”

“I’m a fucking twat, I know this. It’s inexcusable what I did—what I put you through—it was selfish—I’m so fucking selfish—I can’t fucking deal with this kind of stuff, and I’m a bloody twat for leaving you because I can’t handle it. It’s cowar—I’m a coward! I can’t face shit—and I love you so much, and I left you… I’m so sorry, please believe me. I’m such a twat—"

“Shut up, please—you’re giving me a migraine.” You held up a single finger as you adjusted yourself in bed. “Look, I don’t even know how early it is, and you know how much I hate mornings.”

“I know, but…I didn’t want to wait until the afternoon to talk to you.”

“That’s fair.”

“It’s 10:30 by the way.”

“Did you practice that speech in your car, or did you just wing it?”

While you were in bed with Gemma, watching King of the Hill on her iPad, Harry resided to his office where he spent much of the evening hunched over his journal, scrawling out endless messages to you about how much of a wanker he is, and by the time the sun began to rise, he had his eyes in his hand and began waiting for an appropriate time to come and see you.

“I…thought a little bit about it, yeah.”

“You really hurt me, alright? It’s not something I can just forget because you said you were sorry. When I needed you the most, you weren’t there. What kind of partner is that?” He stood silent in his spot; his hands dug deep into his trousers. Suddenly, he was a little boy again getting scolded by his mother. “I had your mom, I had Gemma, but not you. The only person I needed. I get this wasn’t part of the plan, and we got our hearts broken, but that doesn’t give you the right to run off because you can’t handle seeing me upset.”

Olivia stretched her limbs out over the covers, purring against the sheets.

“I appreciate you coming, I really do. This isn’t something I can just forget and move on from. I want to work on this, but it’s going to take time… I still love you though.”

*

September 19, 2019 Los Angeles, California

“Your shirt looks like amebae under a microscope.”

He stifled a grunt, looking down at his shirt with concentration, and every so subtly did you see him glance swiftly at the bathroom mirror. “I’m surprised you even know what ameba are.”

“Or it looks like those eye floaties you get, but…colorful, you know?”

“Will you stop bullying me?”

“Only when you tell me how much you paid for that shirt.”

For a second, and you saw it flash through his eyes, he considered telling you, but figured that was a fight for a different afternoon. His silence was all the answer you needed. You nodded and left the room.

He found himself eminently lucky that you even agreed to accompany him to Los Angeles, but it was under the one condition that he takes you to In-N-Out whenever you oh so politely asked. Though, after you harassed him over his attire that morning, he was undecided to change his mind.

He didn’t.

You did, however, apologize and say he looked like a sexy ameba, and he then locked you out of the car for five minutes.

To be fair, you only accepted his offer to travel with him because you missed your friends, and they were the one thing that remained untouched from the summer. You felt the emptiness being carried with you with every passing day, and all the books and websites said that was normal, but finding distractions and hobbies to pass the time was coming close to becoming a sport – way too laborious for you.

You even found yourself searching “Losing interest in things I used to like” and you were considerably shocked to discover the rabbit hole Google led you down.

You didn’t consider yourself depressed, not by any means. Sure, you were sad most of the day, you never really gained your appetite back, you stopped painting and watching King of the Hill and Breaking Bad, and if you didn’t spend the entire day sleeping, you would lay in bed with your eyes closed, praying you would eventually grow tired enough to slip away for a little while.

Harry even signed you both up for couple’s therapy.

“This is for people who cheated on each other and refuse to break up!”

But regardless of your inherent fussing, he refused to back down. Where the two of you stood mentally, this was your last chance at redemption, and he wasn’t letting you back out. The way he saw it, if you didn’t make an effort to try and fix what was broken, there was no hope for the relationship moving forward.

That was when you realized the outcome was more than just losing your baby.

After the first session, you made an appointment with your physician, who later prescribed not only you with anti-depressants, but Harry as well. Your world was spinning madly, in every which direction, but at least you had your boy holding on madly with you.

The first time you encountered a fan since the summer happened on that very first outing in Los Angeles when you and Harry were arriving for your lunch plans. (Not In-N-Out, but you let it go.) If it had been solely one girl, you trust that you could easily fight her off if given the opportunity. I mean, sure, you didn’t fight off that other girl, but she had the upper hand, or so you tell yourself.  

But, no, she was with a group, and you felt the urge to vomit.

“I’m going to throw up—” You propel yourself in the other direction, ready to sprint back to the parking lot, and thinking back on it now, you can’t even remember the last time you even sprinted. “Let me sit in the car—let’s get the food to go—I don’t care—”

This is why we should have fucking gone to In-N-Out.

“Pet—you can’t run forever, okay? I know it’s fucking scary, but you have to face this one day.” You remember the exact quote Harry was reciting from the therapist, just with less profanity. “I won’t let them do shit, alright?”

They did stop him, of course, and you took a few steps away so they could have their moment, but you made sure he was still an arm grab away incase—

“Hey,” You had disregarded the voice, opening a game on your phone – Numberzilla – before you registered someone had spoken to you. “I’m sorry to bother you…”

At first glance, you could easily discern she was unsure of herself. She likely had a rush of confidence, and now standing blankly in front of you, she has lost all certainty. From behind, you peered up to find Harry staring at the back of her head, already inching into his pocket for his keys.

“Oh,” you gulp, clutching your phone in your hands. “Hi…”

“I just…was just hoping that you were doing okay.”

Doing okay, because of—

Your heart thudded to a stop.

“You alright?” Harry was at your side, and the young girl took a step back.

“Sorry—I’m sorry.” She gave a weak smile. “I just wish the best for you two.”

She was already walking off when you mustered up the words to thank her, but you were doubtful she heard you. Harry’s arm was in a tight grip around your backside, with his keys hung in his hand, ready to run.

The two of you cancelled your lunch plans and hit In-N-Out instead.

*

September 24, 2019 Los Angeles, California

“Is it okay?”

It was a Tuesday; you had a clear agenda for the day, and it was a little after lunch that you found yourself aimlessly clicking through channels, with your boyfriend sitting down by your feet, flipping through the pages of your current read.

You had felt the undeniable ache since the night before, and you thought maybe if you just ignore it, it’ll go away, but it only lingered, taunting you with its insatiable lust.

The itch you don’t want to scratch.

Your heart was racing, your palms were sweaty, and it didn’t matter how tightly you squeezed your legs together, nothing could rid you of this.

“H,” You poked his leg with your toe. “Bear with me on this, okay?” He didn’t respond, but he carefully set your book back down on the coffee table. “Will you have sex with me real quick?”

“I…you want to?”

“Do you have condoms? Because if not, I can take care of this myself—”

“Yes, yes, I have them. I have—they’re upstairs.”

And there you were, minutes later, his cock was inside of you, and he slowly rolled his hips carefully into you, dipping his toes into the water. He physically cannot express how much this meant to him, and how long he hid this desire deep in his gut, because God forbid he be the one to bring it up. If he had to wank off in the bathroom in between commercial breaks until you decided you were ready to have sex again, he’d find a way to tolerate it.

“Is it okay?” He choked out in between breaths; only minutes in, and he was cradling dangerously on the edge.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s okay. It feels good.” You readjusted your hips, stretching your leg out to wrap around his. “Maybe a little faster?”

“I’ll cum in a second—” He shook his head, halting his movements when that tiny, little knot inched closer to unravelling. “Just give me a sec.”

“Babe—”

“Hold—” He reached his arm under the bend of your knee, lifting it up as he thrusted back into you. “Fuck—”

He was relentless; you stretched your hand down between your thighs, rubbing and kneading that small bundle of nerves as his cock hit deep within you with no sign of letting up.

It had been way too long.

“Harry—fuck—” It was deep, pulsating, and you lifted your hips up as your orgasm radiated throughout your every limb, tightening around his cock as he thrusted hard, giving you one last nudge of pleasure as his grip tightened around the sheets, fucking into you with a lasting, animalistic moan, cumming thick ropes into you.

You made him access the condom, triple checking there wasn’t a hole unbeknownst to either of you, and after a fourth overview, he politely asked you if he could throw away his used condom now.

You would be okay this time.

He ran a bath a little later, and you submerged your body deep within the bubbles, letting them rest at your jawline. You felt like you lost your virginity all over again.

“H?” You asked, rubbing the bubbles up your arm.

“Yes, pet?”

“Do you want to get married?”

The question caught him, and he cracked his eyes open with curiosity. “I want to, yeah. You know I do.”

The conversation had only been passed around once, when you were terribly drunk and crying over some sob film where the boyfriend dies before they have a chance to elope despite their parent’s protests. The film stuck with you for weeks, and you always wondered, if you knew you were with the one, why wait? Why wait for tragedy to strike?

“Let’s get married.”

He chuckled, wiggling his toes against yours. “You’re mental.”

“No, I’m serious. Why wait? Seriously? I love you, you love me, and we aren’t getting any younger.”

“Pet, you’re 24.”

“And only getting older!”

“So, you want to find some Little White Chapel in Vegas and get hitched?” He leaned up a little, a smirk stretching out on his face.

“I want a real wedding, of course, someday, but right now…let’s do it. Let’s go to Vegas or Miami or somewhere, and just do it.”

It took an hour, but he eventually agreed, and was on the phone with Jeff to arrange a flight and hotel. The next day, the two of you ran around downtown to every consignment shop in the city, looking for a white dress – not as hard as you thought it would be – a diamond ring – a little tough, but you found one for cheap – and a nice pair of heels in your size – a lot harder; you bought a size too big by accident.

And in 24 hours, you would be marrying your best friend.

*

Miami, FL September 26, 2019

“Shit…fuck, we’re actually doing this?” You stuffed a wad of tissue paper into the toe box of your heels – one size too big – and stood up to test them for a final time. “No going back?”

“Cold feet, pet?”

“No, I’m fucking—it’s humid in here.” You swing around to face him, fanning yourself off with a loose People magazine, and its then you see him standing smugly in his slacks, a proper grin etching itself across his face.

“Cold feet—the expression, pet…”

“Harry—fuck, I’m nervous. My shoes are too big, I feel a pimple forming on my chin, and I’m pretty sure the wire in my bra broke ten minutes ago because something is stabbing my tit.”

“Well, I think your tits look great.”

“You can thank that bombshell bra I bought years ago for that.” You stroll back over to the sofa and toss the magazine carelessly onto the coffee table. “Did you have them sign an MDMA?”

“NDA, and Jeff got that covered.” Harry combs back a piece of his hair, that one strand that always gives him trouble. “Hold onto this for me?” You watch as he removes his H ring, and strolls over to the sofa. “Put it in your bra—can’t lose much in there.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“And you’re my wife.” His fucking smug grin falls over him like a tidal wave, and you wish you could just slap it right off his face.

“No, I’m not.”  

“Give it a couple minutes.”

Your heart hurled itself up into your esophagus, the tremorous pounding radiating all throughout your head to your toes. Harry appeared quite relaxed as he staggered to the full-length mirror to adjust his collar, and from the reflection, he caught your watchful stare.

“Your mom is going to be pissed.” You think back to Anne, and all the good she’s done for you, and you are now repaying her by having her miss her son’s wedding. “We’ll need to plan the real thing soon.”

“We’ll tell her when we want to tell her, but for now,” he swung around on his heel to face you, “This is about you and me…and the rest of our lives.”

You make a mental note to thank Niall later.

You think back to those years ago, and how you almost bailed on Niall that night to stay home and watch The Young and the Restless with your roommate. You weren’t thrilled to get that phone call, but as long as Niall agreed to pay for a couple drinks, you found it in yourself to put on a pair of pants and enjoy a night out. 

And maybe if you had inclined to stay home, your entire life would be a completely different world right now. Maybe you’d be in somebody else’s kitchen helping them prepare dinner, or on some lavish vacation with a guy you only met a month ago, or maybe you’d be alone in your apartment, binging a new show to pass the time you only let flutter by.

But you were here now, standing at an alter that smelled roughly of cigarettes and mildew, wearing shoes that were too big on you, in a dress that probably saw more weddings than you ever will, holding the hands of the man you were prepared to love for the rest of your life.

Nothing seemed to matter anymore, not the harassing, not the attack, not the stalking. It didn’t matter what anybody threw at you anymore; you were hard as fucking stone, and not a single person was going to damage what the two of you were building.

“You may now kiss your bride.”