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Heyy!! 💙 Selena here! Would It be posible yo request a scenario, please? So its a normal day at school and suddenly the reader overhear a conversation of her current boyfriend with one of his friends in which he confesses that he's just dating the reader to win a bet of 1.000 yens? Completely crushed she doesn't know how to react but she was not the only one accidentally listening.Noya who has a huge Crush on reader was also there... ¿ What would he do now? Nsfw included please! Enjoy!
It would be possible!! This turned out really fluffy instead of nsfw content just because I like to have a build-up of things, I hope that’s alright<3 🥺
And my inbox has been flooded with need for more Noya so🥰
On the Line. (Nishinoya Yu x Reader)
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“Noya, you’re drooling again.”
The libero wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shooting a glare at a grinning Ennoshita, who casted a glance at your laughing figure a few seats away as his grin widens. Before Nishinoya Yu could completely deny that assumption, he stills in his seat when your eyes flit over to his brown ones, your lips stretching out in a warm smile as you offer a timid wave.
God, why did you have to smile like that?
Blinking out of a trance, the libero turns away from your direction abruptly as Ennoshita continues to sip his box of strawberry juice, somewhat used to his friend’s odd behavior when it came to you as the second year hums, a teasing tone to his voice.
“Considering the amount of girls you’re known to fawn over-”
“excUSE ME-”
“Y/N’s been kind of a long term thing, no?” Ennoshita questions casually, flipping a page in his manga he had open throughout the lunch period as Noya goes to defend himself- only to open his mouth and shut it again quickly, for he had no defense to that statement.
“Don’t kid yourself, Y/N’s just a close friend.” Noya chuckles somewhat forcibly as Ennoshita’s eyes lift from his page to arch a challenging brow. “Besides-”
Brown eyes soften, voice cracking a tad bit as he watches your boyfriend poke his head into the classroom door as a smile- a smile that wasn’t for him- brightens your features more than when you looked at him did.
“Close friends shouldn’t cross lines when they’re obviously drawn.” Noya finishes, and Ennoshita’s eyes fall back down to his manga, his wrist flicking to throw the empty juice carton at his friend’s head as Noya catches it with a glare.
“Stick with drooling over Kiyoko- you’re scarier when you say serious stuff.”
“I’ll have you know- wait, scarier?”
“Dude, have you met yourself?”
Before a snarky retort can be made about Ennoshita’s lack of empathy, Noya quiets down to realize you were no longer in the classroom, and Ennoshita had successfully distracted the libero from watching you leave with your boyfriend.
“I don’t know whether to thank you or punch you.”
“The former would be great, thanks.”
--------------------------------------------------------
“uGH practice is such a pain.” Noya whines as Tanaka whistles lowly in agreement from next to him, the iconic duo feeling lucky practice was delayed for the day due to Ukai’s tardiness, the coach getting held back by a prior engagement.
“I’ll meet you in the gym later?” Tanaka questions after Noya had released a groan after the realization that his notebook had been left behind- a notebook that held at least a dozen late homework assignments that needed to be in by tomorrow.
“Yeah, man- Tell Daddy Dai I’ll be there in a few.”
“Still can’t believe he lets you call him that.”
“Oh he doesn’t- on second thought he does. Tanaka, if you love me you’ll call him that when you see him.”
“Who the hell loves you?” His best friend sneers as Noya puts up a peace sign accompanied by a wide grin as he walks off, his smile lessening when his back turns again to his lonely trek in the mostly empty hallways of Karasuno.
Yeah, who would?
Before he can stifle it, your face popped up into his mind along with a tug at his heartstrings as Noya continues his slow walk back to his classroom, a glazed look taking over his eyes as he wonders if you made it home safely with that asshat of a boyfriend-
Until he saw it.
Noya pauses mid-step, the glazed look being blinked away as he saw you standing outside a classroom that wasn’t yours, the door open slightly ajar as your hair skewed the image of your face. An excited smile spreads on the libero’s face at the thought of an unexpected conservation with you, his pace picking up until he sees something that made his breath hitch in his throat as he stands two steps away from you.
Your eyes were brimmed with unshed, shining tears that seemed to threaten to spill over at any moment, and before Noya can ask you why on instinct, you had grabbed his arm in a tight grip, putting a weak finger to your lips as you signal him to stay quiet.
With furrowed brows, the libero complies, leaning against the wall next to you as he remains focused on your grip on his arm, an involuntary blush rising to his cheeks at the situation at hand-
but it didn’t last very long.
Noya’s ears perk up at the sound of a very familiar voice- a voice that he dreaded hearing call your name every day during break times.
“...yeah, man- I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
He felt your grip seem to loosen on his arm.
“With Y/N? Dude, I don’t know why you would go so far for 1000 yen-”
He watched a painful expression cross your face as your eyes widened in absolute disbelief.
“Right? I thought it would be easy, but she looks at me like I’m the best thing to ever happen to her, what would you do in my situation?”
But the instigating factor?
“Dump her. You agreed because she seemed cute and easy, right?”
When the tears tipped over the eyes he loved, his vision turned into a blurry fit of rage, shoving off the wall before ripping his arm from your grasp as you attempt to keep him next to you. Noya stops for a second when your hand reaches out to grab at the back of his shirt material, your reddened eyes widening when the libero smiles a closed-eye grin at you, mouthing the words you needed to hear most.
It’ll be okay. I’ll be back.
“1000 yen richer, I guess. Anyways, I wonder where that airhead-”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence as a fist collided with his cheek, Nishinoya seething so angrily he hardly spared a glance at the friend that made a dash for the exit at the arrival of the school’s known-troublemaker.
All those days watching you be with him. A hidden part wishing he was him. The convincing of himself that he was happy you were happy-
Noya’s eyes mimicked the ones in which he was on the court, eyes spinning dangerously serious as brown eyes narrowed, a fist grabbing at your boyfriend’s collar from where he now laid with a slightly cracked lip.
When this was how things were all along?
“What the hell are you doing?!”
A humorless chuckle. “What does it look like? A fucking tea party?”
When his fist reels back again, he stops when he feels a hand rest gently on the back of his elbow, Noya just knowing from the touch that it was you as his tense muscles relax almost immediately.
“N-Noya...”
At the sound of your cracked, stuttering voice, the libero releases a heavy sigh, releasing your now ex-boyfriend’s shirt so that at least his head hits the classroom floor as Noya stands protectively in front of you.
“Bastard...you think you’ll get away with something like this?” Your ex seems to chuckle a tad deliriously as Noya ignores him, shuffling through his pockets before dropping a few crumpled bills at his feet, your ex finally taking notice of you with widened eyes.
“I don’t care. I just get suspended again, but you?” Noya sneers, kicking the bills towards what he had always considered not good enough for you. “You fucked with the wrong person, asshole. Here’s 4300 yen (about 40 USD), whatever shitty bet you had going on is off, don’t even look her way anymore. Not like you deserved it in the first place anyway.”
With that, Noya spun on his heel to grab your hand hastily, adrenaline running through his veins before he feels you freeze at the sound of his voice.
“Y-Y/N, baby please-”
“I don’t know if he didn’t make it clear enough,” You glance at him once more, etching the image into your mind before mentally discarding it. “But we’re through. If there was any we to begin with.”
Noya’s brows reach towards his airline before he releases a low whistle at you’re words, surprised when you’re the one to lead him out of the class, stopping only when you reach the exit of the school.
“Y/N-”
“Have anywhere I can maybe, I don’t know, cry?”
Noya’s eyes widen as a million thoughts flit through his head as he takes a chance. Slowly, he turns your figure so you’re facing him fully, gently prying the hands that covered the features you now deemed ugly away before tucking your face into his chest-
the libero determined to make you feel as beautiful as he saw you as, feeling the sobs wreck through your body as your hands tightened at the shirt material on his chest.
Looks like he’ll be missing practice today.
----------------------------------------------------------------
“You didn’t have to go that far.”
You smile a little at Noya’s look of seriously? from his place in the kitchen, causing you to giggle a little from underneath the blanket he had given you as you relaxed a bit more into his couch. The smile dwindles as you wonder how you had gotten here, puffy-eyed and broken-hearted in the house of someone you deemed as a close friend-
but why had your heart beat picked up when his back was to you in that classroom as he faced your ex? Why did that smile he casted to you before rushing in to defend your dignity make you loosen your grip on his shirt as a newfound feeling emerged in your stomach?
Had he always been there? Just in that little pocket in the back of your mind, waiting to be seen, as someone simply stood in front of him?
“I left my homework at school for you. I’m expecting my payment in m&ms.”
You shake your head of those thoughts just as Noya sets down a steaming mug of hot tea in front of you, and your eyes widen before you subconsiously raise a hand to his hair, retort falling silent.
Noya blushes, eyes narrowing at the small giggle that slips your lips as he occupies the couch seat next to you. “What?”
“Your hair’s not being held up by like, three different products of hair gel.” You observe, genuinely interested in his soft locks as the heat in the libero’s cheeks deepen before he scoffs.
“Two actually, imagine being uneducated.”
“Imagine assaulting someone because of a childish bet.”
“It was self-defense.”
“In what way?” You find yourself laughing as Noya turns fully towards you, a lopsided grin on his lips that had your laugh dying down at the pounding in your chest.
“You’re pretty when you laugh.”
Embarrassed, you retract your hand from his hair hastily before picking up the mug and taking a deep sip, flinching at the heat as Noya calms his nerves at the girl he’s been in love with acting so cute next to him.
The mug hits the table gently as you set it down, a far-off look in your eyes as Noya takes his share of the blanket, wondering if you were uncomfortable with the proximity before you relax into his side, your head leaning on his shoulder.
“I have to wonder...if all I was had been a game all along.”
“Apparently the no sad talk rule I put in place before we entered my domain was ignored, and it shows.”
You go to swat him playfully before Noya catches your wrist, brown eyes soft and looking at you as if he were afraid you would break at any moment.
“Y/N, you’re literally the prettiest, nicest girl in the grade- it’s not your fault you decided to make the worst possible choice.”
A pink dusts across your cheeks at the compliments before you pout. “But it kinda is.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Oh yeah?” You laugh into your mug, not realizing Noya had been watching you with a gaze you were used to catching in the middle of breaks or class. “And who would be a better choice?”
“Are you joking?”
You blink at the deadpan of Noya’s voice before he scoffs as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Ennoshita. Are you dumb?”
“I was thinking more you, but yeah I could totally-”
The couch is soft against your back as the blanket drapes over Noya’s back as you find yourself sandwiched between him and the couch, his hands placed firmly next to your head to support himself as he keeps his weight off of you. Your eyes trace over his features as his brown eyes seem to seriously stare into yours, your faces inches apart.
“You can’t take it back.”
You melt into the feel of his lips upon yours, smiling into it as something in you just feels so right in this moment, pushing him back a little as soon as his hand trails down to your waist.
“Noya, I just got out of the worst day of my life-”
“Then I’ll make every day better than the last.”
“It’s not too soon?” You ask worriedly as Noya digs his face into your neck, and you blush when his lips move against your neck.
“Nothing’s too soon when I’ve been waiting this long, babe.”
Noya smirks when your skin seems to heat under his touch, feeling you squirm when his hands move to rest on your waist gently as he peppers your neck in kisses.
“How long have you been waiting?” You pout, pulling Noya out of your neck as the libero scoffs, his lips moving to trace up your jawline before making his way across your cheek sweetly, stopping only when his lips hover over yours.
“Too long, apparently.”
“C-Can I kiss you?”
Rolling his eyes, Noya cups your face gently as his thumb traces your cheek, speaking against your lips as he feels your lips curl upwards into it.
“I don’t know if I have to make this clear- but you don’t have to ask your boyfriend for permission, babe.”
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General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @savemesteeb
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu anime#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu karasuno#karasuno#nishinoya#nishinoya x reader#haikyuu nishinoya#nishinoya fluff#nishinoya yu x reader#nishinoya yu#nishinoya yuu
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A Drop of Poison - Ch. 3: The Library
A Loki fanfiction!
Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter
Full Chapter List
Chapter warnings: bit of smut at the end...
-----------------------------------
You placed your books on the nightstand and slumped onto your bed. The pillows caught your face in a soft hug and you felt the weight of the entire day sink into you. Your roommates were gone nearly all the time, working most hours of the night in the common room study area. It used to be lonely, constantly coming back to a room with three empty beds, but now you reveled in the emptiness.
He deserves it.
Professor Heimdall’s words bounced around in your mind.
He killed someone. A close friend of his father’s.
You tried picturing a younger version of your professor, whom you barely knew, being trapped in Azkaban. Is he truly a murderer? You thought about that and could not find a simple answer. Sure, he had a cold disposition. However, it was encased in a strange, jovial warmth that both intimidated and intrigued you.
His cool blue eyes entered your mind, and you wondered what sort of menacing secrets he held behind them. As awful as you tried to make him, there was something about it all that did not feel right. The way his lips subtly twitched when he threw ingredients into the cauldron and the way his eyes lit up when the students applauded him did not scream “evil” to you. You pictured his face in your vision and the fear in his eyes as the dead surrounded him. It was the face of a man trapped in a hopeless situation.
Professor Heimdall was not usually so clinical about his judgments. It surprised you he doled out such a firm statement. And to listen to him tell you that you were having silly dreams was even worse.
Freya…
Why had he uttered your name? That alone was proof enough. He needed your help. Professor Heimdall was hiding something else from you and you needed to find out what it was. Fine Heimdall, if you won’t help me, then I’ll do it myself.
You walked out of the common room and headed to the courtyard. Dusk was approaching, but there were still some students out, so your presence was not too suspicious. You walked across a couple lounging on a picnic blanket. The boy had his head in his partner’s lap. They giggled about something and took no notice of anyone else in their vicinity. You smiled at their affections wistfully.
The grass was freshly cut, and the air had a rich smell to it. You walked over to your favourite willow tree - the one that did not whomp - and sat at the trunk. There was a breeze which picked up your curly locks and moved them about your face. You tied your thick hair back and crossed your legs.
You breathed in and out, trying to remember Heimdall’s exercises. The scent of flowers in bloom distracted you for a few minutes until you could grasp some focus. It took several seconds of listening to your breath until you found yourself in a calm state. Your thoughts slipped out of your mind like water through your fingers. Your mind was empty, waiting to be filled. In this state of bored concentration, you felt the stirring of a question: What must I do?
It was the only question that floated in your mind; like a cloud drifting across a clear sky. Then you pictured something. A blurry image that slowly came into focus. It was a book, but the letters were unintelligible. It was on the shelves of the restricted section. The book was dark red, leather bound and cracked along the spine. As the image cleared, you saw the title: “Spells for the Common House Cat”.
“What the hell?” You said aloud. The vision dissolved as soon as you lost focus. You leaned back on the trunk and repeated the ridiculous title to yourself. Perhaps Heimdall was right, and it was all just a silly dream. How could this have been an important vision?
Your first impulse was to return to the common room, go to sleep and forget about the whole damned thing. Instead, you found yourself calculating how to get to the library unseen. Your impulse control was failing you as of late.
It was half an hour before it would be inappropriate to be out and about on the grounds. The sky was darkening quickly. You dashed past Skurge as he grumpily mopped the floors and slid into the library. There was a section on Magical Tax Law near the back you hid in; the books and the floor were so dusty here that you hoped no one would find you.
A few aisles away, there were students roaming the shelves.
“Come on Victoria, I can barely read anymore my eyes are going to fall out!” A low voice said.
“You’re clearly going to fail potions. We have our O.W.L.’s this year and I have to at least get Exceeds Expectations,” said a voice, higher pitched.
Fifth year potions, you thought. It was already an immensely tough course at the time with Professor Rattowl. You felt sympathy for the students.
“Have you heard, Laufeyson’s carryin’ the Slytherin name? He’s been to Azkaban,” said the boy.
The girl, Victoria, gasped. “What! How could they let him teach here?”
The boy said, “well we know how he got the job, when mum’s Headmistress, I guess they'll let anybody do it. I don’t feel safe knowing some felon is creeping around in the school.”
“Yeah, he must have done something awful to get into Azkaban,” she said.
“You know what I think?” he said.
“What?”
As their feet shuffled away, you barely caught his words. “I don’t think it’s no coincidence Rattowl bit the dust right before Laufeyson got here.”
The rest of the conversation was unintelligible whispers as you stood there like a stone and mulled over what they said. After a long silence, you heard the last student leave. The door ominously shut, and the sound echoed through the library. The flames in every lantern went out in succession. You looked out the glass windows, as moonlight was now the only natural luminance that could guide you in the dark.
Their words did not deter you from your path, though the questionable nature of Professor Rattowl’s demise was a new addition to your list of “things to investigate”. Your thoughts dispersed when you heard Skurge coming with his bucket and mop. The wheel squeaked loudly, and you thanked the bucket gods.
You darted into the restricted section. The door had a latch on it, which you carefully opened with your wand, trying not to make a sound. The restricted section was decently large, with tall shelves lining the entire wall. At the back of the area, was a cabinet where several scrolls were placed in rows of small, square cubbies. The bottom part had a cabinet just large enough for two precocious sixth year students to hide in. The doors had a large square cutout where a lattice covering was added. Lucky for those students, they could see if anyone was coming.
You smiled to yourself as you walked over to the cabinet and opened the door. On the bottom right, just above the hinge, was a carving in the wood. “Bad bitches make good witches”. You silently laughed to yourself at Valkyrie’s idea of ‘leaving a mark’.
Long tables extended across the area surrounded by uncomfortable looking wooden chairs. You walked over to the shelves and searched across the volumes for that strangely titled book about cats. Maybe you were crazy, but it was far too late to turn back now.
“Where could you be?” You whispered as your fingers traced the chains along the spine of a book that was as thick as your head.
The sound of the squeaky wheel came from a few bookcases away, and your heart fluttered nervously. You looked at the entrance to the restricted section and wondered if you could make an escape unnoticed. But it was too dangerous, so you crawled inside the bottom of the cabinet and shut the door just as Skurge came by. He was humming to himself and scanned the premises as he mopped. After a few minutes, he continued down the aisles and you no longer heard his voice.
You sighed and were about to crawl out of the cabinet when you heard voices. You went back into position and closed the door, staying absolutely still.
First you heard a woman’s voice. She was laughing in a flirty sort of way.
Then you heard another voice, deeper. “You’re a bad influence, aren’t you?” Your stomach dropped. It was Professor Laufeyson’s voice.
“Hmmm, let’s go in here, Skurge is done with his rounds.”
Was that Professor Sif? Your suspicions were confirmed when you saw Sif and Laufeyson enter the restricted section. She led him by the hand to the table in front of the cabinet where you hid. She leaned back on it and you saw her undo the clasp in her bun as Laufeyson approached her. Her black hair cascaded down her shoulders seductively. The look in Laufeyson’s eyes caused a tremor through your body. You wondered if Sif was blushing as hard as you were.
Your heart rate shot up when her hand reached over to him as she unbuttoned his shirt. He ran his hand down her arm and you closed your eyes, unsure of what to do. Of all the places to be, of all the worst times.
“You are quite a minx, aren’t you?” He said in a low voice. It was almost a purr.
Your eyes snapped open to look at him. His gaze was curious and inviting. He cupped Sif’s face and when his pink tongue came out to lick his lips, you bit yours to keep from breathing too loudly.
“Only when I want to be,” she said.
They kissed. You could hear the smacking of lips and clashing of tongues. You nearly gasped and put a hand on your mouth to stop yourself. A part of you felt guilty watching such a lewd display, but you could not look away.
She slipped off her cloak to reveal a blue button up blouse and black skirt. She undid the blouse. You saw him move her hair aside and kiss her neck. He traced his tongue up her jawline and sucked on her earlobe. Dear lord, help me. You wished you were anywhere else, and yet your nipples hardened underneath your bra.
“Why my brother doesn’t see the beauty of what you are, I know not,” he said, running a hand up her stomach. She moaned a little and leaned back further so that she was sitting on the edge of the table.
“He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” she said between breaths.
“Why don’t you show me?” He said as he pushed her down on the table and opened her blouse. You saw her breasts openly now as he walked in between her legs.
She hoisted up her skirt while he undid his pants. Your mouth was gaping open. Sif lifted herself up on her elbows so you could no longer see past Laufeyson’s belly button anymore. You moved your head up for a better view, but hit your head on the roof of the cabinet. Your heart stopped as you looked through the hatching and saw him look in your direction. Surprise flashed on his face for the briefest of seconds before he arranged his features back into an aroused state.
Professor Sif turned her head, “what was tha- “
He rammed himself into her, and she cried out with a gasp. She writhed on the table, arching her back. He placed his hands on her breasts and pinched her pink nipples as he thrust into her. You watched shamelessly, with a hand on our mouth as your body reacted to the scene. You looked up at his face and froze when you saw him looking right at you. He held her down and thrust into her with an almost violent ferocity. You felt a strange heat in your entire body as his gaze transfixed you in such a grossly inappropriate state.
He came in a short groan, eyes only leaving you once Professor Sif got up. Her skin almost glowed from the sweat and you wondered if that afterglow was always so beautiful.
“That was…” she said in a dreamy voice.
She slowly buttoned up her clothes. There was a section of hair at the back of her head that was sticking up. You might have laughed had you not been thinking about the needful look on Laufeyson’s face just before he came. It was seared into your mind and you felt your lower abdomen tighten at the thought.
The professor did up his pants and walked towards the cabinet, looking at you with an unreadable expression, eyebrows drawn in. A lock of hair fell around his temples, and he pushed it back with his hand. His abdominal muscles were clearly visible as he buttoned up his shirt. You saw the slanted lines on his hips that led to a place that you dared not imagine. Heat rippled through you at the notion.
He turned around in front of you so that all you could see were the backs of his black trousers. Was he...blocking you from view so that Professor Sif would not see? Surely not.
“Now, can you tell me where Odin’s journals are?” Professor Laufeyson said.
“What?”
“Oh, you know, there were certain…works that Odin wrote and left here. What I was talking about earlier today. Do you know where they are? I would imagine they’d be here in the restricted section. Though I have looked and there’s not much, that’s useful here.”
She straightened her shirt and looked at him. “I believe Headmistress Frigga had a cleaning done and removed several books from this section. They may be somewhere in her office now.”
“Ah, I see.” He leaned back on the cabinet.
“Is this why you wanted us to come to the library?” She scoffed. “Loki, you could have just asked if all you wanted were your father’s books,” Sif said.
Professor Sif said no more, rushing out of the restricted section and slamming the door.
Professor Laufeyson called to her, “as I recall, I came to you with a question. And you took our conversation elsewhere.” He lowered his voice then. “Nonetheless, this was far more entertaining,” he said, drumming his fingers on the surface just above you. He stepped away from the cabinet, and headed out the door without another word.
Your heart pounded in your ears. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?
#loki#loki x reader#loki fics#loki (marvel)#loki fanfiction#loki imagine#loki series#mcu loki#loki of asgard#loki odinson#loki laufeyson#loki layfeyson x reader#hogwarts au#thor odinson#valkyrie#Professor Loki#loki moodboard#loki of hogwarts#norse mythology
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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥. | ii
word count: 7k
“Meet me at midnight
in the forest of
my dreams.
We’ll make a fire
and count the stars
that shimmer above
the trees.”
“How do I politely ask my boss that I want to slap him over the head with a chair?”
Those words were the first thing that came out of your mouth the moment you stepped inside the kitchen of your small apartment. You saw your sister propped comfortably on one of the chairs while munching her dinner. She ran down a scrutinizing look over you, her eyes painted with the words ‘I told you so’.
Rolling your eyes at her, you slumped too hard in one of the chairs, causing your butt to hurt from the contact. She chuckled loudly from the silent ‘ouch’ you exhaled before she gulped down a glass of water.
“What did he do this time?” Yuqi asked, wiping her mouth off the excess water.
Her question brought you back to the incident earlier. How Jaehyun gripped your arms trying to squeeze an answer from you. The pain left a numbing pain on your skin, reminding you to be extra cautious around him for your own sake. The man, just like what Soojin said, is not one to mess with. But you felt utterly coward reminiscing the way you cowered under him. He is your boss, yes, but he is still a man. He is just a man; flesh and blood just like you. “Earth to you, sis?” Yuqi snapped her fingers in front of your face, making you blink your way back to reality. You debated telling your sister of what happened. But you remember that behind her 5’0” height sleeps a volcano that you wouldn't want to wake.
“Nothing happened. He was just, you know, being extra jerk today.” You frowned.
“You don’t have to tolerate his attitude. You can always quit,” Yuqi commented, pulling a chair towards you and sitting on it, concern written on her face.
You slid off your three-inches high heels while laughing at her. Quitting after a week of work wasn’t in your list of priorities right now. You still have to endure your contract which lasts for a year, before you could quit or renew it— that is if he doesn’t get angry enough to let you stay in his company. And you still have tons of debts to pay and a future to secure; you wouldn’t want your sister to suffer just because you were being whiny.
“You know that’s not possible. We need money to stay alive,” you reminded her. She sighed in frustration, trying to open up the topic of her working so she could help provide for you both. You half listened to her sentiments while munching your dinner of ham and egg.
“I don’t understand why won’t you let me help,” Yuqi sighed.
You looked at her as she slumped further into her own seat. “I know you want to help. I couldn’t let you because of your condition. I wouldn’t stand idly as you risk your health doing jobs that I could do myself.”
“I am not as frail as you would like to paint me.” She sounded irritated, conviction clear in her voice. Of course you knew that. You are only refusing to test her strength when it’s clear that one simple job could harm her.
“And you’re not as strong as you believed to be,” you retaliated, challenging her to say something by looking at her intently. She sighed and let her hands fly above her head, defeat clear in her action.
“Alright. You win. I won’t talk about this again.”
“And I won’t let you even if you try to.” You chuckled, lifting the heavy atmosphere that’s coaxing from your discussion.
“You are annoying.” Your sister chuckled back. That was when you knew that you had won the argument again.
You stood up, gathering all the dirty utensils in the kitchen to wash in the sink. Yuqi offered to wash the plates, but you declined and told her to study instead.
“There’s something I wanna tell you, though,” she voiced behind you. You turned around to face her while wiping your hands with the apron wrapped around your waist. She nibbled on her bottom lip, the mannerism she always does whenever she feels uncomfortable to talk about something.
“I… I wanna try and join the archery team in our school,” she stated, refusing to look. Knowing Yuqi, she would always say tons of explanations to convince you about it, so you patiently waited while leaning onto the sink.
“I really wanna join… but I want to inform you first. Since, you know, my condition…”
Archery is the one sport she could do. It doesn’t really require heavy trainings and that could also help with her stamina.
“Just promise me that you’ll take care and discipline yourself,” you pointed out while raising your finger.
Her head snapped at you, eyes twinkling by the silent yes between your lines. You nodded at her, confirming that you indeed would let her join the sport. Her squeal pierced your ears as she jumped in happiness and hugged you.
“You’re the best!”
She peppered your face with little kisses, making you laugh and jokingly shrug her off of you. She kissed you one last time before dashing to her room with a stupid grin painted on her face. Going back to cleaning the dishes, you shook your head by your sister's silliness.
Teenagers are the hardest stones of the world, and you hope you were doing a great job taking care of one.
The day was beyond exhausting and you barely made it to your bed after washing your body and face in the bathroom. Your limbs felt heavy and your eyes were almost closing as you trudged the small distance from the bathroom to your mattress. The pain in your arm throbbing as you lay comfortable on the sheets. There wasn’t any bruises when you looked at it in the small mirror, but it was painful nonetheless. You wonder just how much strength Jaehyun emitted since you didn’t feel the pain earlier.
After you left the room, he didn’t call you back for anything again. Chaelin left not five minutes after you bolted out of the room. Regarding your boss, he departed his office earlier than the usual time. He was clearly pissed; with his narrowed brows almost crashing against each other paired with his usual scowl. As expected, he said absolutely nothing to you. Not even a sorry. Not even a glance.
Who are you kidding? Of course he was not apologetic. The heavens would open up and the angels would sing once a man like him admits his wrong. Men like him has a pride as fragile as a china vase. But deep in your heart, you expected him to at least say something to you, because you were hurt from his own doing.
Maybe it was bad idea to work for him, maybe it was a mistake that you didn’t listen to your best friend’s and sister’s warning. But what could you possibly do? What choices do you have left? Nothing. You have to endure him or else your sister would suffer. Besides, the company offers a great source of income, you really just have to live through the asshole CEO that comes with the package.
In spite of that, maybe you could exchange work to your co-workers on the lower floors. Surely, there is someone who would be willing to take the job. Jung Jaehyun is a pleasant view to look at, not until he talks and say something that would degrade and bury your confidence six feet under. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t hurt to try.
You exhaled by the thought of talking to your boss about your plan of exchanging works with his other employees. You know it is unprofessional, but could he blame you when he literally went on and tried to crush your bones, scaring the wits out of you? He couldn’t be that heartless and emotionless not to feel your discomfort, right?
Assuring yourself that you could successfully execute the plan tomorrow, you drifted into oblivion mere seconds after closing your eyes.
The bad day seemed to stretch up to your dreams. Your mind is in a haze of blurry images; bodies and faces alike. But you feel your own limbs, standing in the crowd of people waltzing in a slow jazz music at the center of the hall.
You tried to look around; seeing different faces contorted like smudges of oil paint. It made your head hurt. The whole place made you dizzy. From its grand and shiny chandeliers to bodies full of iridescent jewels. It feels as if you were back in the past, but having no knowledge of where in history you were into. Eighteenth century? Nineteenth? You have no idea, yet it almost feels as though you were in the right place.
You stepped your foot forward, feeling the hard and slightly heavy shoes attached to your soles. That was when it occured to you that you were wearing the same elaborative gown as every woman in the festivity; with a corset wrapping your body, making it harder for you to breath. The feeling of your hair in a tight and fancy bun against your scalp and the dragging sensation of cosmetics on your face felt utterly real that you started to question yourself whether everything was only a dream, for you felt like living in the moment.
A servant halted in front of you, breaking your reverie. His one hand carried a tray of various drinks.
“Mademoiselle,” he greeted, slightly bowing his head. You reluctantly took a glass containing of red liquid. The servant smiled before continuing on his task.
The elders warned not to eat or drink anything in your dreams, for it is an offer by the devil and a sign that they could take your soul from your body. Looking down at the glass, you could almost perceive your own silhouette against the red surface— making everything more sinisterly eccentric.
“My lady.”
A voice rang from behind you. You turned on your heels to face the owner of the masculine voice, almost losing your balance as you saw that familiar eyes piercing on your own.
“Jaehyun?”
You were beyond certain that he was your boss. With his raven black hair standing bright against his pale skin, and the same cherry lips paired with his dark brown irises; there was no doubt he is Jung Jaehyun. The only difference is his hair, that is much longer than what you remember. But all about him— from his voice to his aura— is Jung Jaehyun.
Have you been thinking about him too much that his memory clung in your mind and into your dreams?
“Pardon me, my lady, but who is Je—?”
He was having difficulties pronouncing his own name. It was obvious by the way his brows were knitted together with his tongue stuck in his mouth. You realized that the name ‘Jaehyun’ was too modernized for a place like this; convincing you that the Jaehyun you know and the man in front of you might have the same face but they are not the same person.
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
There was an unusual glint painted in his orbs as he looked at you; so different from his passionless eyes in real life. You tried to tell yourself that all of this is just a dream. But the first time your mind opened the door towards this fantasy, everything felt strangely veridical.
“It’s quite alright, my lady.” He smiled.
Jaehyun was a pleasant art to look at even with his scowl and narrowed brows. Yet his smiling face left no words in the dictionary to be used as a description to how dashing and comely he looked like with his pearly white teeth and luscious lips perfectly contrasting each other. And if only you could take a picture of it with your brain and print it out once you wake up just to taunt him tomorrow, you would. But the image would exist only in your mind and would solely be yours to keep.
“…can I finally have the pleasure to dance with you, ma chérie?”
You blinked. He offered you his hand, still too pale even in your dreams. Deep in your heart, Jaehyun feels too familiar that there was a slight pang of pain throbbing in the arteries of your heart as you stared at him. He whispered the last words like you share some kind of secret you didn’t want the world to know.
“What’s… your name again?” You asked.
His brows shot up to his hairline, clearly surprised by your question. “I see that you have consumed too much liquor tonight, my lady,” he chuckled.
He chuckled and you would lie if you would say that it wasn't the most pleasant sound you have heard in your whole life. It was deep, like it came from the depths of the ocean. You and Jaehyun were close to being strangers— but as you look at him with the eyes that you know were only a part of your imagination, you wished to bottle up the sound and replay it for the rest of your life.
He showed you his triumphant smile when you took his hand. Guiding you towards the throng of dancing bodies, he leaned closer, his lips so near you could feel his breath fanning your cheeks. “I am—”
“Y/N!”
You jolted awake, clutching your chest tightly as you stare at your younger sister with widened eyes.
“What on earth?” You breathed.
She smiled cheekily at you, “Breakfast’s ready.”
She hummed her way out of your room, giving you a look that tells you she knows you were dreaming about Jaehyun. You grabbed one of the pillows and attempted to throw it at her, sending her dashing to the kitchen with her laugh echoing through the whole house.
You stared at the window, noticing the rays of the sun slowly creeping in inside your room, leaving golden colors to everything that it touches. They say you would forget ninety-percent of your dream once you wake up, but that was not in your case. Your dream was so vivid you could draw Jaehyun’s smiling face if you wanted to.
The cold floors bit your soles as you stood up from the bed, washing away the last bit of sleep remaining in your system. You tied your hair into a messy bun and walked towards the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.
You debated telling Yuqi about the dream, but you shrugged the thoughts off the same moment it occured to you. There was no point telling her about it. She would certainly tease you once you tell her about Jaehyun’s occurrence in it.
“I’ll be late tonight,” Yuqi started as you both settled down on your chairs. You nod your head at her since you have been through the reason why she would come home late.
“Please, take care.” You eyed her intently.
You were still a bit reluctant to let her join the archery team. But your sister is on her last stage of being a teenager and you wouldn’t want her to miss the things she wants to enjoy. You wouldn’t wish to take away the life she wants to explore; the one you didn’t had the chance to experience when your mother died in the peak of your teenage life.
“I will, mom.” She snorted and rolled her eyes, but promising to take care of herself nonetheless.
—
“Sir, would you like to eat some breakfast?” You asked your boss.
It took you a lot of courage to walk in his office and pretend like nothing happened yesterday; because let us be real, he was still your boss and you were still his secretary.
He was sitting on his throne, rummaging through the files stacked up on his table with his usual scowl. Instead of answering you right away, he pretended not hearing you for two-minutes straight— making you stand there like a puppy waiting for his owner to give his orders. You soothed yourself despite the temper starting to boil inside you.
“Sir, would you like to eat some break… fast…?” Your last words barely came out of your mouth as he suddenly looked at you with his ice-cold gaze. It was so chilling that it locked you down on your spot like a zombie shot by the ice-peashooter in a game. Then there you were again, slowly cowering in his gaze like an animal trapped in a pen.
“Look at me, Y/N,” he commanded. And you wonder just how much power this man has that his words could literally pull you down on your knees, right there and there. With your heart on your throat, you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his.
Suddenly and without any warning, your mind went running back to the dream that you had; Jaehyun asking you for a dance while smiling at you. Today, his face was still beautiful, but there was nothing friendly in it as he looked at you— only danger and mischief.
“Does your arm hurt?”
Yes, fucker. It still does hurt, thank you. You would’ve said the words if it wasn’t for the fact that you still need a job and you couldn’t afford sleeping in the streets for the next month. So you lied instead. “No, Sir.”
He pushed his chair away from his table, silently stretching his shoulders and craning his neck as he stood up. He then, pulled a small bottle out of his pocket and laid it on the table. “Take this and get out.”
He didn’t give you a chance to say something for he walked straight to the meeting room— not bothering to glance at you. You blinked a few times before taking the small bottle and left the office.
You opened your hands. A small smile crept up on your lips as you stared at the bottle of ointment for body aches laid in your palms.
Maybe Jaehyun wasn’t that heartless after all.
—
Apparently, lunch is the only time you and Soojin could mingle together. Today, the lunch was surely meaty because of her stories and chitchats. You haven’t told her about the incident that occurred yesterday, for you didn’t want any drama attached to your name. Soojin is a reliable friend, but she’s the type of person who could drop a bomb in a group people, so you decided to be quiet about the matter.
“Oh! Before I forgot, Yuta sent me a message yesterday. He’s coming home to visit!” She cheered while scrolling through her phone.
The name brought you too many memories in an instant that you almost choke on your drinks. Soojin eyed you sheepishly before handing you a glass of water.
She laughed while patting your back and saying, “Relax, Y/N. It’s just Yuta!”
You nudged her ribs before quoting the air, “He’s not ‘just’ Yuta, y’know.”
You and Soojin were both friends with Yuta when you were in your freshman years. The three of you shared some memories that you wouldn’t trade for the world. You cried and laughed with each other— until you and Yuta became a ‘thing’.
It wasn’t hard to love Yuta; he was simply the best that you could ask for a guy. With his wise mind and smart mouth, gentleman antics and protectiveness, he captured you like a little dragonfly between his fingertips. Your relationship tied a rope so tight it couldn’t be loosened. Not until you saw her with a girl; him shoving his mouth down her throat you were certain he was trying to reach her liver.
He was your first love and your first heartbreak; your first in almost everything. And it had hurt you to think that you were just his another ‘first time’. But you have moved on, because you couldn’t love a boy who made you feel that your all wasn’t enough.
“It’s been years since we last saw him. I wonder what does he look like right now?” Soojin asked you. Her chin propped on her hand.
You shrugged, obviously ignoring her question since you didn’t feel comfortable talking about your cheater ex-boyfriend. Yuta went back to his home country when you finished college, pursuing whatever dreams he had in his mind. You have no idea what could possibly be the reason of his return. You severed all communications that you had with him. So he probably didn’t know about your mother unless Soojin told him. Nevertheless, you didn’t receive any consolation from him.
Going back to the 28th floor of Jung’s Fiscals, your mind couldn’t get off the possibility of seeing Yuta again— after so many years. Not that you were scared, but you know to yourself that he took a slice of your heart when it broke into millions of pieces because of him. But you were much capable to guard your feelings now than you did back in college. You just hoped that the bars you have put around your heart were well secured so no one would slip inside.
The rest of the day, you spent checking emails and schedules of your boss. He departed his office when he ate lunch (you have no idea where), returning an hour later and never came out again. It was past six p.m. when your mind tinged of an idea. Suddenly, you wanted to draw Jaehyun’s smiling face. You grabbed the sketchbook that you always carry along with your mechanical pencil. Uncomfortable as you were because of the dream, his face never left your mind— begging you to keep it in your memories. And there was only one way to do so: drawing.
You started with a circle, giving it a 3D interface to easily draw the parts of the face. The brightness of the image in your mind gave you goosebumps. His smile, his dimples, and his eyes were so detailed you could truly print it out if possible. After thirty-minutes of fast sketching his face, the canvas could no longer deny that it was Jung Jaehyun. The only missing details were his long hair and his clothes. You started to sketch his hair when Mother Nature called on you. So you left the sketchpad splayed on your table— which became your huge mistake of the day.
After you have relieved yourself, you went back to your table— to see Jung Jaehyun holding your sketchpad with his lips pressed in a tight line. Disappointment clear on his face.
You bit your lower lip— cursing the fact that both of you were the only person in the whole floor. It made every step of your heels echo against the silence. You calmed your raging heartbeat, convincing yourself that you didn’t do anything wrong; you drew him smiling and that was that. Nothing offensive or whatsoever. But you knew something about your sketch had vexed him.
“You drew this?” He asked, running his pointer finger along the rough surface of the paper.
“Yes, Sir.”
The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You hated the silence, more than anything— because it amplified the sound of your boss ripping the page off your sketchbook. You have never expected him to praise your work, but you also didn’t think that he would ruin it. That made everything much worse. Yes, it was only a thirty-minute worth of sketch, but you made it nonetheless. Nobody has the right to rip it in front of you.
He crumpled the paper with one hand, letting it drop on his feet while looking at you with his stupid, emotionless gaze. You remembered the small ointment he gave you earlier, and the way you even allowed yourself to think that maybe he wasn’t that heartless as some other people might think. Yet here he was, shattering your hopes and proving you wrong.
“How could you be so hateful?”
You were certain you said it in muted tones, but it echoed off the whole floor— slapping you the fact that you indeed said it to your boss. Aloud. But the asshole didn’t even flinch. He only raised his brow, obviously saying that you have no right to ask him the question. You were too vexed to care about his feelings because he obviously did not care about yours when he ripped your work.
“You know what? I’m done! I couldn't work for someone like you anymore!” You trudged the distance between the both of you, closing your sketchbook and collecting your things. He didn’t stop you. You were certain he hated you as much as you hated him and that he also wanted to get rid of you.
“Does that mean you’re resigning?” He asked.
You would lose your mind, literally. You have no idea how could someone be so devoid of emotions as Jung Jaehyun. His voice doesn’t even have a sliver of feeling. You stopped bagging your things and looked at him— truly looked at him. The distance between you only one step away you could perfectly see the outline of his dark brown eyes— reflecting your face.
“Yes! I’m quitting this job!” You told him. Your pointer finger digging in on his chest by every word.
He caught your wrist and pinned you down with a glint of amusement dancing in his orbs— a warm smirk spreading across his lips. “So feisty.”
You blinked at him. His smirk spreading wider by your stoned reaction. In that moment, the only thing you wanted to do was smack his smug face off his head.
“You cannot resign,” he simply declared, not letting you go.
“And why not?” You tried to wiggle your wrist free from his grasp, but he only pulled you closer.
“I forbid it.”
You couldn’t believe him. Of course he was going to forbid it. He knows no one would beg to be his secretary once you quit and tell the whole world how awful Jung’s Fiscals’ CEO truly is.
“Listen—” You were interrupted by the loud vibration of your phone inside your bag. But your boss didn’t let go of your hand even if you tried to release yourself again. You were left with no choice but use your free hand to grab the phone inside.
“Hello?” you greeted.
Jaehyun made it clear that he wouldn’t give you the privacy that you deserved, so you glanced at him sideways while waiting for the other line to answer.
“Good evening. Is this Miss Y/N?”
“Yeah… how may I help you?”
“This is Sacred Heart’s Hospital. We are calling to inform you that your sister, Yuqi, is currently in the emergency room—”
You lost your balance, sending your phone crashing on the ground. Jaehyun was quick to catch you, his brows in its usual knitted state. Both of you didn’t say anything and you have no idea whether he heard the news or not. You regained yourself and tried to collect your stuff with shaking hands. The whole world seems to shrink, making your head dizzy and sending your heart to run a mile.
What happened? Your mind kept repeating the question. Sweat started to form in your forehead as you think about the worst answers. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if something terrible happened to you sister.
Quickly, you ran for the elevator— some of your belongings clattering on the floor. You picked them up as fast as you could, nearly tripping on your toes.
“I’ll give you a lift.” Your boss declared, stopping the elevator doors with his arm. It opened free, allowing Jung Jaehyun to step inside.
You couldn’t construct a word, not even a syllable to tell him to fuck off and that you don’t need his help would come out of your mouth. But you have guessed he saw the irritation in your face that he answered it with his same scowl.
“If you ride a bus from here to that hospital, it’d take you half an hour. The risk you wouldn’t want to make now that your sister could be dying.” So he really did hear the call.
The veracity of his opinion made the hairs on your skin crawl. He was not wrong, but you still hated him. You detested the possibility of your sister dying on a hospital bed right now and you didn’t need him to hit you with that on the face.
Riding a bus is a risk you don’t want to take, but you didn’t like the idea of Jaehyun helping you either. The matter at hand doesn’t require you to prioritize your pride— so even with a heavy heart, you let Jaehyun guide you towards the parking lot. All eyes were on you as you walked through the lounge. Soojin looked at you with concern printed on her face, you gave her a curt nod to tell her you wete fine. Even when you were sweating waterfall.
He parked right in front of you, waiting for you to hop in. You glanced around, suddenly reluctant to enter his car. Aston Martin— you have seen it in magazines. One of the most expensive cars existing today. The windshield went down, revealing Jaehyun with his one brow shot up to his hairline. Left with no choice but to give up and ride his car, you shrugged and hopped in.
The fifteen-minute ride to the hospital gave you a lot of anxiety. Sitting in his luxurious car made you irrelevant and small again. You were not one to envy the success of other people, but looking at him swerving the steering wheel and push buttons inside the vehicle made you realize that Jaehyun was indeed meant for the elite kind of life. He was sitting there, nonpareil. And that was a bit unfair to you. You were almost the same age, but your worlds were poles apart from each other— with him in the north, and you in the south. You wonder where did you go wrong that all you have experienced in this lifetime were hardships and misfortunes.
Tears pricked your eyes, the envy and the restlessness about your sister’s situation mixing together. But you refused to be weak in front of him. You would get through this, because that was what all you have ever known— getting through everything in life.
You gave Jaehyun no time to say anything for you dashed outside his car towards the emergency room once you reached the hospital. With your heart beating against your throat, you grabbed the nearest nurse by the arm to inquire about your sister.
“How is Yuqi? Yuqi L/N? I’m– I’m her sister! Y/N Y/L/N!” You thump your chest, wishing the nurse would understand your wobbling words.
Before he could answer, a doctor emerged from the emergency room. You quickly ran, frantically bombarding her questions.
“Yuqi L/N? She had a severe asthma attack earlier. The nurses from her university couldn’t risk the odds that’s why they sent her here. Her breathing has calmed down now. But we still need to monitor her situation for she looked like in so much pain earlier.”
You let your body lean on the white walls of the hospital, trying to refocus your mind and handle all your emotions. You were so close to breaking down, and you were surely on your wit’s end— a thread of the thinnest yarn barely keeping you intact. The doctor tapped your shoulders before she walked away.
Almost an hour had passed when they decided to transfer Yuqi into a private room. You quickly followed, helping the nurse make the bed and such. Yuqi’s already awake, looking at you apologetically. You nodded at her with tear stained cheeks. And only when the nurses left you alone you allowed yourself to seat on of the chairs, clasping your sister’s hand between yours.
“I’m sorry…” she croaked.
You silenced her, “Sssh. You shouldn’t cry. It’s not good for you.”
“How could I not cry? Here I am! Being the useless person again! I hate myself!” She pounded the sheets while crying. You continued to shushed her with comforting words.
“Don’t say that! It’s not your fault.” Your voice broke, and all the emotions swallowed you whole.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” she repeated, voice barely audible from all the crying.
“Sssh. It’s okay— I got this,” you reassured her.
Yuqi cried for five-minutes more, while you stroke her hair and tell her all the soothing words that she needed to hear. And then she fell asleep of exhaustion, tears leaving stain on her cheeks. You softly wiped it away with your handkerchief.
Looking around the room, you have taken notice of the empty bedside table. You have to go home and fetch some clothes, buy food and fruits for Yuqi and file a leave. But first, you resonated to calling Soojin. It was past eight p.m.. You were certain she was already on her way home.
“Hello? Y/N? Thank God you called! How are you? Are you okay? I saw you leaving with Mr. Jung. He didn’t hurt you, right? Tell me he didn’t!” she bombarded. You would have laughed if you weren’t in an unfortunate situation right now.
“I… I’m alright. I called to ask you a favor— I hope you won’t mind.” You sniffed.
“Of course I won’t! Tell me what is it? Do I need to call the police?”
“No, silly. I need you to come here, at Sacred Heart’s Hospital—”
She gasped, “What happened to you?!”
“Calm down. I’m quite alright. It’s Yuqi. I need you to look for her. I need to fetch some clothes and buy food. I’ll explain it once you get here.”
“Alright, Y/N. Wait for me!”
“Thanks, Soo. Take care.”
You tucked your phone in your pocket, running a hand through your hair while looking at Yuqi. She looks so peaceful yet weak, her lips barely having any tint on it. And you couldn’t help but blame yourself for what happened to her. I shouldn’t have let you join that team, you whispered— biting your lower lip to stop your tears from falling again.
You decided to rest your head on the sheets while waiting for your friend. Twenty-minutes later, the door creaked opened and you saw Soojin trying her best not to make a sound. She was early, maybe because she was already halfway when you called. You swiftly stood up. She boxed you with a tight hug as soon as she reached you.
“Is she okay?” She asked when you both pulled away.
You nodded at her while sniffing. “It’s my fault. I let her join the archery team.” You pitied yourself for being so careless.
But Soojin only shook her head at you, reaching for your hand. “None of it was your fault, Y/N. I’m sure you only wanted her to enjoy.”
“Still—”
She held up her hand, “Sssh. You have other things to worry about.”
You looked at her with knitted brows then she rolled her eyes at you.
“I saw Mr. Jung outside the hospital. Seems like he’s waiting for you.” Soojin wiggled her brows then.
Your palm automatically slapped on your forehead, remembering that you indeed went to the hospital with your boss. You completely forgot about him because of your anxiousness. Without a word, you departed Yuqi’s room and ran towards the exit— towards Jung Jaehyun.
Cool breeze greeted you outside, making you feel sticky from the sweat and tears your body excreted. The hospital provided cemented tables with chairs around them. You didn’t expect to see him waiting since it’s been almost an hour. But there he was— sitting on the farthest bench the lights could barely reach. A blunt was lit between his fingers, smoke coming out of his mouth while he scrolls through his phone.
You sat beside him, fanning the smoke away from you. There was silence but after a few minutes, he finally gazed at you. He didn’t say anything, just offered you the blunt.
“I don’t smoke. You shouldn't, too. It’s bad for the health.”
“Remind me that once I’ve had enough fucks to give.” He sipped on his blunt, blowing yet another eye-stinging smoke.
You ignored him. There was no point dwelling in the words that left his mouth.
“Why did you wait?” You asked instead.
“I thought you’d ask me about your salary.”
You didn’t say anything because he wasn't wrong. The idea, indeed, has already crossed your mind. But it seems embarrassing to ask about it. You were working on a prestigious company. Paperworks are needed for you to file any advanced salary and loans.
Jaehyun suddenly shifted on his seat, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a card. “Here. Use that for the bills.”
If you were not devastated beyond reckoning right now, you would have dropped dead to see a black card being offered to you.
“I don’t want your pity,” you snapped. Maybe it was your ego that was doing the talk, but you refused to receive any help from him.
Jaehyun deadpanned, “Hate to burst your bubble but your eyes tells me you absolutely do, chérie.”
Chérie.
You have heard of it, as clear as a crystal. Shivers ran down your spine, remembering your dream from earlier. It couldn't be possible. The accent and his voice sounded the same it creeped you out of your wits. You felt your heart somersaulting inside your chest, you were afraid you would lose your breath. But you tried to remain laid back, not letting Jaehyun witness that the monicker he called you rocked your world upside down.
“Is that… Is that your way to recompense?” You asked instead. Suddenly appreciating the grass underneath your feet. Noticing that your throat went dry, you gulped.
“You should know that I don't do that shit.”
You knew it. Jaehyun had no plan to acquit himself of what he did. There was silence again. You ran out of words to say to him. The dream and your reality slowly coaxing in your mind you thought you would go insane.
“Thank you, for going with me here.” You breathed at last.
He only nodded at you, placing his card back in his wallet before standing up and walking away— keys swirling on his finger. You let out a breath as you watched his back gets smaller and smaller.
Chérie. God, what is wrong with me?
—
Jaehyun absolutely has no idea what had got to him to offer you a ride to the hospital. Now that he thought about it, the idea was so unusual of him it made him slightly mad. Not only that, he even gave you a small body pain ointment. Chaelin gave him a lot of shit after the incident in the office, telling him he wasn’t being careful blah blah. And then she had forced the ointment into his hand, threatening him to give it to you.
He was sitting on his couch for twenty-minutes now— scolding himself because of showing a little decency towards a creature he vowed to hate with all the fibers in his being.
Humans. Weak and sinful humans. He breathed the words. Filling his glass of hard liquor and drinking all the contents in one gulp.
He reached for his pocket, digging the crumpled paper inside. Seeing your sketch enraged the living hell out of him, he was surprised he didn’t burn it with his own hands. It was so stupid of him to pick it up and pocket it as fast as he could when you were losing your shit because of your sister earlier.
Now as he stared at the paper again, he still couldn’t help but be furious. The edges of the sketch were rough, but the details were there— screaming at him. He couldn’t stop himself to remember the days when smiling was easy and laughing was effortless.
How many years has it been since he last felt his lips stretch into a genuine smile? Of course, a hundred fucking years ago— he whispered as an answer to his own question. He has no idea what came into your mind that you have decided to draw him smiling— but it infuriated him to the point that he almost fired you.
He reached for the locket on his other pocket again. It became a ritual; him staring at her face on a little locket every night since she died. She was still smiling— her hair flowing freely while a flower crown sit atop her head. Jaehyun clearly remembers the moment like a water on a fresh river.
They were both seated on the grass, with only the moon providing them the light. Then the girl offered his lap for Jaehyun to rest his head. The lake did its best to make everything more romantic by reflecting the moon onto its surface.
Beside her and onto her lap were the only places Jaehyun wanted to be forever. But he knew, in the hardest way, that forever only exist in him— not on the people around him, and especially not on her.
But he hopes— his stone-hard, ice-cold heart hopes that the saints could hear him every time he begged them to take care of her. Because yes, he was a sinner— but he still whispers her name like a prayer.
His world still revolved around her. His heart still beats for the same girl with eyes as blue as the ocean and hair as black as his own soul. The girl who loved painting so much she even gave colors into Jaehyun’s life with her delicate hands.
He ran a hand through his face, feeling that his world is collapsing again and again.
“Aurora, come back to me.”
—
You came back at the hospital after an hour and a half, the shame washing over you the moment you saw Soojin sprawled on the sofa while snoring. It was almost midnight yet she still needs to go home and wake up early tomorrow. You looked up at the ceiling while biting your lip, fighting the urge to cry again. You have no one but her. But only if you could split your body in half to do all things that needs to be done, you absolutely would. Just so you would never have to burden others with your own problems again.
You quietly walked towards her, leaning then shaking her lightly.
She stirred, quickly standing up when she realized it’s you and fixed her hair. “You’re back,” she groggily said.
You nodded at her. “I’m sorry if I had kept you waiting.”
“Oh no. It’s okay, Y/N.” She smiled at you. “The doctor arrived here twenty-minutes ago, checking on Yuqi. She said they still need to monitor her breathing. Hopefully, she could go home in two days.”
You nodded, glancing at you sister. Seeing her in a hospital bed made your heart hurt. It reminded you of the time when your mother was in the same situation, fighting for her life.
“Oh, I need to go home now. Just call me whenever you need me, Y/N.”
“Thank you, Soo. I owe you one.”
You hugged each other. But before you forgot, you grabbed your wallet inside your bag and handed a bill to Soojin. She looked at you, bewildered.
“For your fare, take it.”
“No! I couldn’t possibly take that, Y/N—”
You pushed the money on her palms, shaking your head at her with a thin-lipped smile. “Please, Soo. I won’t be able to sit still if you won’t take this.”
She sighed, finally taking the money. “Take care, okay? Don’t burden yourself too much. You couldn’t possibly control everything that’d happen, Y/N.”
You nodded at her, and then you shared one last hug before she departed the room.
Feeling that your bones couldn’t hold your body any longer, you decided to lay on the same sofa. It was still warm, giving you a little comfort in the cold room. You turned sideways, looking at your sister. Even though Soojin reminded you not to take everything as your fault, you still couldn’t help but blame yourself. No matter how you see the situation, your carelessness still stood as the main reason of why your sister is lying sick on the hospital bed right now.
You remember your mother when she was in the same situation— looking so frail and almost dead. And you, crying your heart out— begging the gods not to take your mother away but you already know that it was impossible. The sickness had spread in every cell of her body already, coating all of her strength and not making room for any improvements. Prayers couldn’t even help when the line had gone straight, the sound it made telling you that your mother had finally given up.
You felt warm tears slide down your nose and on your cheeks, making your eyes sting. Wiping the tears away, you shifted on the sofa and tried to close your eyes to sleep— the tears and the exhaustion delivering you into oblivion.
A lake. That was what you first noticed as you realized that you’re dreaming again.
The moon was on its full glory, white light reflecting in the silent waters of the lake. Unlike from your previous dream of noise and smudged faces, you couldn’t seem to hear the chatters of people or see any instruments tonight. You were completely alone.
But not until a voice spoke from nowhere.
“Aurora…”
You couldn’t name the voice. It sounded like it came from heaven, from the earth, from sundry places. Yet it fondled your heart with a familiar ache— like the name was your own. You tried to step your foot forward, your gown billowing because of the wind. The grass tickled your soles, making you realize that you were indeed barefoot.
The voices never halted as you sauntered up towards the lake. It proceeded with calling the same name. You kneeled on the grass, leaning forward to see your reflection in the water. Thanking the moonlight for mirroring your face clear enough for you to see. But it wasn’t yours, the face, yet your body and soul belongs to you.
Your hair seemed too black, and your face smaller. And your eyes— the color thrilled you. They were blue, as the ocean itself. A flower crown sit atop your head. You were breathtakingly flawless.
“Aurora…”
You immediately looked around. The voice, no more coming from various people— but to only one. You saw no trace of any living bodies as you roamed your eyes around your surroundings. But the voice still lingered in the air, saying the same name over and over again.
“Aurora… come back to me.”
It was becoming too familiar now— with its deep and raspy tone. You closed your eyes. Jaehyun couldn’t really seem to leave you alone even in your dreams.
masterlist.
#jung jaehyun au#jaehyun nct au#jaehyun imagines#nct 127 au#nct au#nct smut#jung yuno imagines#part ii#nct imagines#nct scenarios
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Kyojuro is one of the characters that honestly mean so much to me. I love him so much!
This fic is for his birthday, though the scenario isn’t really birthday specific. I just wanted to do a longer fic than I usually did, though I don’t know if 1.6k words counts as long..? Sigh.
Please enjoy (*´꒳`*)
—
Memories || Kyojuro x Reader
The world always felt the need to spin round and round whenever you awoke. The mornings were like an endless carousel of muddled memories you could never quite piece together.
Eyes fluttered open, blinking a few times as they adjusted to the light. Your vision was blurry at first after having gone so long asleep. You squirm slightly, clenching and unclenching the soft fabric of the blanket on top of you in your fingers. Footsteps scuffled about with mumbled whispers, eventually falling quiet.
“Miss?”
You tilted your head in the direction of the voice in attempt to show acknowledgement. Your throat was too dry for words.
“Uh.. miss? Do you know where you are? Can you tell me your name?”
Your brows furrow together pensively as a soft groan of pain slips through your chapped lips. You open your mouth as if to speak, but no words came out.
“It’s alright.” A second, softer voice cooed “don’t push yourself. You’ll get better in due time.”
You pushed yourself up from your futon, careful to be as quiet as possible.
Sunlight barely peaked over the horizon, telling you that you hadn’t got much sleep yet again, but that was nothing new to you. Putting a pot of water on to boil for tea, you slip outside to watch the sunrise. It was peaceful. The beautiful array of yellow, orange, and pink felt so familiar. So warm and welcoming. The face of a man you couldn’t remember flashed through your memory, smiling. It was an occurrence you had grown accustomed to, though it still filled you with unexplainable sadness.
“Maybe... I’ll paint today.”
~~
“What do you mean ‘gone’?!” The man cried out, clearly distressed by the information he had just received
“[Y/N] never returned from her mission. We haven’t received any letters from her or news from her crow.” Kagaya stated, unsettlingly calm for the news he delivered, but he also couldn’t hide the sorrow in his voice “we have reason to believe she has died.”
The room fell silent as all of it’s occupants processed their leader’s words. Tears dripped free from the eyes of all the hashira that had particularly taken to the girl. The flame hashira in particular could barely hold in the pain anymore, letting out a small whimper.
Kyojuro Rengoku gave a hearty laugh at whatever comment his host had just made. It wasn’t hard to tell by his red tinted cheeks that he might have had a bit too much sake. Any more, and that cheery facade of his might just crumble away.
The blonde man excused himself soon after the dinner, heading back to his room for a moment to gather his wits about him. He couldn’t lose sight of his mission.
~~
After breakfast, tea, and assorted house chores, you finally had the chance to sit down and enjoy some painting.
Squeezing your eyes shut with a deep breath, you try to muster up the image of the man from before. The caring smile you couldn’t help but long for.
Rasping breaths echoed through the moonlit clearing. The stars provided the only light, yet the sky felt eerily empty.
Your intended target stood in front of you, sneering arrogantly, likely thinking up another misogynistic insult to throw your way.
Sword in hand and resolve unwavering, you sprang forward.
Mixing paints together in order to achieve the perfect colors—the ones you had seen in the sunrise from this morning—you notice your hand begin to tremble.
A painful sensation of pins and needles shot through your whole body. You couldn’t tell if it was simply the frosty wind nipping away at your limbs or your wounds that were beginning to go numb.
“Is that all you got?”
Tears pricked at your eyes—causing you to furiously blink them away—though you had no idea why they were there.
“Perhaps I should take a break and paint later?” You whisper before shaking your head, frustration bubbling up inside your chest. “But I’ve already painted him numerous times. It’s gotten me nowhere!”
As if to reaffirm your thoughts, you were pulled away by other matters that suddenly needed tending to.
~~
The night stretched on in front of the slayer, darkness greeting Kyojuro at every turn.
“Rengoku, it’s resurfaced.” The wind pillar announced upon the blonde’s arrival
“You mean—?”
“The demon. Yeah. Even by the same village.”
The flame hashira held his bread in disbelief. His hands balled into fists, knuckles slowly going white. He wasn’t going to let it escape.
The fight was barely fair. Kyojuro’s rage drove him with more strength than he had ever mustered before. The slayer didn’t escape without his own set of injuries, though he came out alive and the demon hadn’t. He had finally avenged the woman he loved. That’s all that mattered to him.
~~
The world, for the first time in nearly 2 years, stayed completely still when you awoke. Light filtered in through the windows, reflecting the glimmer of recognition in your eyes.
The face of the man from before pulled free from the confines of your mind. For the first time you could put a name to it.
“K-Kyojuro..”
The light breeze tousled your hair and sent goosebumps down your arms. A smile graced your lips as your lover pulled you closer.
The two of you laughed. At what? no one could really say. The giggles couldn’t be helped, the two of you just loved each other’s company more than words could ever express.
The memory brought you to your knees, clutching the fabric over your heart in a weak attempt to ease the pain that consumed you.
“Kyojuro?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, [Y/N]”
Your chest heaved as sobs echoed through the place you had called home the last two years. It had felt unbelievably empty now.
~~
Dawn crawled up from beneath the earth. Fresh dew dampened Kyojuro’s sandals, though he couldn’t care less.
In the end, it all felt anticlimactic.
He had finally, finally killed the demon responsible for ripping his happiness away right from his hands, yet it just didn’t feel as satisfying as he had always dreamt it would be.
The man had stumbled down the hill after the fight, nearly losing consciousness but managing to hold on long enough to get medical attention.
“Excuse me?” A shy voice interrupted
The people attending to the slayer’s wounds quickly tried to shoo away the child that had been looking in on the situation, though Kyojuro quickly told them it was alright.
“What is it, little one?” He asked, his tone soft an endearing, welcoming the child and causing him to hesitantly step forward
“Are you the man in the paintings?” He eventually asked, shuffling his feet back and forth from nervousness
“Paintings?” He asked, raising a brow
“Miss [L/n]’s paintings.”
~~
A frantic knock greeted your cries.
You quickly quieted your sobs and wiped your tears away. Sitting up, you shake away the melancholy thoughts that plagued you in an attempt to regain your resolve.
Unsure movements carried you to the shoji at which the panting outline of a man stood.
It was... familiar...
Hope pulled at your heart and tears threatened to fall once more.
Could it be?
You slid the shoji open haphazardly, causing it to slam at the other end. Your eyes were red and puffy from all the sobbing you had done, but you honestly didn’t think twice about your appearance right now.
“[Y/N!]” the man huffed, tears threatening to fall
“K-Kyo..!”
It didn’t feel real. Tears fell without warning. Happy tears. You prayed this wasn’t all some cruel dream, some trick on your mind.
The man couldn’t believe his eyes. The woman he missed, who he longed for, was standing right in front of him this very second. He never thought he’d ever see your beautiful smile again, yet you proved him wrong.
You crashed into each other’s arms without another thought. Kyojuro hugged you as tightly as he could while still allowing you to breathe. As if you weren’t already breathless.
After tears from both parties seemed to finally stop— or at least lessen— Kyojuro let up his grip. You protested with a soft cry, but understood when you saw the pained confusion in his eyes.
There was just one thing he didn’t understand.
“[Y/N], why did you never come back?”
Your breath hitched. How could you explain? Would he believe you? You had only really just pieced it all together yourself, after all.
“The demon...” you start, unsure “it’s blood demon art... it must’ve given me amnesia. I... I could never forget your smile, though.”
“The paintings..?”
“I.. I was just trying to remember who you were..” you say, tears beginning again
Kyojuro quickly caressed your cheek and wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs
“I killed it. The demon.”
“That must be why I—“
Cries from the other room cut you off, causing the beautiful reunion to fall short.
The blonde looked to you with brows knitted together in confusion, but you only gave him a tearful smile in return.
“When they found me… I…” you trail off, trying to find the right words to explain
Shaking your head, you turned on your heel and dashed to the other room. Kyojuro’s arms were still outstretched, as if grasping at the air where you left him behind. When you returned, he understood.
In your arms was a beautiful baby swaddled up in a pastel colored blanket. You still cried. He couldn’t believe it.
“Kyojuro... this is your daughter..!”
#kny#kimetsu no yaiba#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#kny x reader#kny kyojuro#kimetsu no yaiba kyojuro#rengoku kyojuro x reader#kyojurou x reader#kyojuro rengoku#kyoujurou rengoku x reader#rengoku kyoujurou#rengoku x reader#kny rengoku#kyo
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What Is And What Should Never Be Pt 4
Summary: After what was supposed to be a week-long mission (but stretched on for over a month), during which she found out more about their "little stranger", the reader is more than happy to welcome Bucky home.
Also, I suck at summaries.
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! Super-soldier Reader
(Reader can see pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)
Warnings: Language, pregnancy, smut, fluff
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
Series masterlist
--------------------------‐----------
“They should be calling me back soon.”
It’s not the ideal way of communicating with your husband while you’re waiting impatiently for an ultrasound in your OB-GYN’s office, but texting is all she has, so it’ll have to do. A week long mission has stretched into four and a half weeks, and although they can’t share phone calls (anyone could be listening in), texting has received the all-clear. She’s grateful that, for the sake of this doctor’s appointment, it’s nighttime in his part of the world, so he’s tucked safely away and can at least somewhat experience this with her.
“I’m gonna give these guys hell for making me miss the chance to spy on our girl.” She chuckles at the message on her screen before typing back her own.
“What are you going to do if it turns out we’re having a boy?” Since the day she told him she was pregnant, Bucky’s been convinced this baby is a girl, but they don’t know for sure. Despite trying her best to concentrate on anything her visions can tell her, she’s come up blank. For all they know, the “little miss” they’ve been talking to for the past few months is really a little mister.
“Teach him how to treat a lady instead of teaching her how to throw a punch.” She snickers. It’s a good response. Still-
“You do realize she’s the child of two super soldiers. She could have the worst right hook in the world, and the other person would still walk away with a black eye.”
“Barnes?” That jerks her attention away from her phone. The nurse is standing just outside the waiting area, eyes searching the room. On instinct, she glances around her, making sure no one has reacted to her last name. She’s not the most recognizable of the Avengers, but still, she’d rather not have the world know she visited the obstetrician today. If anyone has put two and two together, they’re doing a good job of hiding it so, readjusting her shirt in an attempt to hide her bump, she stands and follows the nurse out of the room.
For what feels like the millionth time, she gives her full name and date of birth. The nurse’s eyes widen in recognition, but other than that, she keeps it professional.
“Just wait in here, hon. Someone will be right with you, okay?”
“Thank you.”
The ultrasound room is small, barely more than a broom closet, but at least she’s away from prying eyes. So, she hops up on the table in preparation and takes advantage of the time alone to read the latest message.
“It’s still a valuable life skill. If she takes after her Mom, she’ll be a looker. I want her to be able to make people think twice before they forget their manners around her.” The message brings a smile to her face, but also makes tears prick at her vision.
“I wish you were here.” As quickly as she types the sentence, she erases it. He’s simply not able to be here, and that’s all there is to it. No need to make him feel bad about something he’s already beating himself up over.
The door opens, this time revealing the same ultrasound tech she met at her first appointment. There’s another round of name and date of birth, then settling onto her stool next to the machine, the tech asks,
“Did you want to know the gender if we’re able to tell today?” When they discussed it, she spent a solid fifteen minutes convincing Bucky that yes, this is a thing they can tell just from those black and white pictures, no she’s not pulling a prank on him, they can find out if they’re having a boy or a girl before the baby’s born. Ultimately they decided-
“Yes.”
It’s only the second time she’s been in this position, so everything is still relatively new. A warning about the gel being cold, the pressure of the ultrasound wand against her, and then the screen coming to life. This time around, the baby actually looks more like a baby instead of a blob, and as she watches, she sees a hand go up.
“You’re feeling movements at this point, right?” She nods. “Good.”
Starting at the head that still looks far too large, they work their way down the body, different images being captured over every organ. Then-
“Are you ready to find out if you’ve got a little boy or a little girl in there?”
She pulls up her phone and rapidly types, “About to find out he or she.” then answers.
“Yes.”
There’s a momentary pause, then-
“Congratulations. Looks like you have a little girl.” This time there’s no stopping it. The tears spill over.
“Sorry.” She swipes at her cheeks. The tech offers her a sympathetic smile and offers her a few tissues, which she readily accepts.
The scan goes on for a few more minutes, picture after picture being filed away. Finally, the wand is removed and the tech informs her,
“I’ll have to confirm with the doctor, but everything looks good. Did you want some pictures to take with you?”
“Yes, thank you. That would be great.”
The machine spits out a few images which are torn off and handed to her.
“I’ll give you some privacy to get cleaned up. Someone will be with you shortly to take you to an exam room, okay?”
“Thanks.”
The tech stands and starts towards the door. Hesitating just outside it, she turns.
“By the way, I couldn’t help but recognize the name on the file.” Oh. Here it goes. “I just wanted to say we really appreciate all you’ve done. The other Avengers too. My little girl loves to pretend that she’s the Soothsayer and runs around telling me, “Mom, I had a vision.” “
She laughs, a mental picture forming in her mind of a smaller version of the woman in front of her wearing a Halloween costume version of the Soothsayer uniform.
“That’s good to hear. I’ll pass the word along to the team.”
The tech disappears down the hall and she cleans herself up. Holding up the clearest ultrasound image, she snaps a picture and attaching it, texts, “It’s a girl.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
He’s been staring at his phone for the better part of the last four hours but still, Bucky can’t bear to look away. The picture isn’t the best, a little blurry around the edges, but it still has his full attention. That, and the text attached: “It’s a girl.”
“That thing’s gonna die on you if you don’t put it away soon.” He chuckles in response to Sam’s words.
“We’re only half an hour out. Somehow, I think I’ll make it.”
“What’re you staring at anyway?” He hesitates for a moment. Sam knows their big secret, as does Wanda, but so far no one else has caught on. Is it okay for him to share this? His gut tells him that it is, so he holds up his phone, careful to tip the screen so that only Sam can see it.
“Oh.” Immediate recognition blooms on his partner’s face. “That a recent one?”
“Yesterday.”
Not looking away, Sam continues.
“You know, I sorta thought you were joking before, trying to throw me off what’s really going on, but I guess it’s true.” His eyes narrow, and it’s obvious when he reads the text on the bottom. “A girl?”
Bucky couldn’t hold back his smile if he tried.
“A girl.” He would’ve been okay if his hunch turned out to be wrong, but now that he knows for sure that they have a daughter on the way, he’s excited. Excited… and terrified.
“Damn.” Sam chuckles. “It’s too bad you got rid of the long seventies hair. She could’ve put flowers in it when you play tea party with her.” He snickers. If this baby, his daughter, does indeed want him to have a tea party with her in a few years’ time, he’ll do it, and do it gladly. Hell, he’ll even wear a feather boa and funny hat if that’s what she wants. The world may think that his job is to be an Avenger, but he knows that his real job is at home, taking care of his two girls.
Eventually the never-ending flight home does indeed end and, after bidding Sam and the rest of their squad goodbye, he climbs into his car and starts the engine. He thinks about shooting her a text letting her know he’s on his way, but the clock on the dash reads four a.m., and he decides it’s best to let her sleep. She’ll more than likely wake up when he crawls into bed next to her anyway since she’s such a light sleeper.
As the miles pass, his weariness from the mission fades with them, quickly replaced with anticipation. During the war, when his buddies would hang onto the hope of receiving a letter from their sweethearts or wives and once the letter did arrive, keep it close to them, often inside their jacket pressed close against their hearts, he didn’t get it. Sure, there were people at home he missed, and even a few girls he’d had dates with who sent the occasional note, but these guys were so attached to that scrap of paper and the words scrawled across it that they’d read so often, they could recite them at the drop of a hat, and that it just didn’t make sense to him. Well, now it does. Instead of letters, he has texts and voicemails, a few pictures taken over the years of them together (or the occasional snapshot he’s sneaked when she wasn’t paying attention because really, it would be a crime not to capture how perfect she looked right then for all eternity), and most recently, the image of his unborn daughter. Whatever he’s had to do that day, whatever is weighing him down, he knows that it’s all for them, and that makes the load seem bearable.
Finally, he pulls into his driveway. Killing the engine, he climbs out, leaving his duffle bag full of dirty (and smelly) clothes to be dealt with tomorrow. Right now, he’s on a mission; infiltrate the house quietly, shower covertly, and then crawl into bed with his two girls.
Parts one and two of his plan go easily enough. He removes his shoes at the door to decrease the chances that she’ll hear his footsteps and takes the stairs agonizingly slowly. The guest bathroom is missing a few key items (like razors; god, he needs a shave), but it has soap and shampoo, so he’s able to shower. The one key element he forgot about is that he doesn’t have any clothes located in this part of the house but, as he tiptoes into their bedroom, he realizes he’s in luck. The closet door is open and- he stifles a chuckle- a pair of his pajamas is laid out on his side of the bed. Looks like she had a vision that he’d be coming home tonight. At least she didn’t wait up.
After tugging on the bottoms (he disregards the shirt; somehow, they always end up migrating towards the center of the bed, and with her so close to him, he’ll be more than warm enough), he pulls back the covers and eases into bed. Sure enough, she immediately snuggles closer, pressing her back against his chest. He’s not sure if she’s awake until-
“Welcome home, stranger.” Her voice is rough with sleep, but he can still hear the smile in it.
“Thanks, Doll. It’s good to be back.” He readjusts his flesh arm to wrap around her waist, his hand instinctively falling to caress the swell of her middle (much larger now than it was four weeks ago), and he’s just about to close his eyes in hopes of getting a few winks when he feels it.
At first, he thinks he’s imagining things it’s so soft, but then it happens again. A nudge against his palm, harder this time. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s happening, and when he does, he can’t help the shaky breath he exhales against her neck.
“You okay?” He means to reassure her that he’s fine, but instead what comes out is-
“She’s moving.” As if in response, he receives another kick.
“Yeah. She’s saying hello to her dad.” He knew that she was feeling the baby move thanks to a text sent two weeks back, but this is the first time he’s been able to feel it himself. And it’s… unbelievable.
“Does it hurt you at all, sweetheart? Is it uncomfortable?” She chuckles softly.
“No, it doesn’t hurt. The only time it’s uncomfortable is if she gets my kidneys, or if I’m trying to sleep.” Which is what she should be doing now.
Without thinking, he sits up and, leaning over so that his cheek is pressed against the bump, he murmurs,
“Hey, little miss. This is your Dad. I can’t wait to meet you.” Her hand comes down to cart through his still-damp hair. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk again and you can kick me some more, but right now you need to calm down so your Mom can get some rest. She’s got a big job, looking after me and growing you all at the same time. So why don’t you settle back in and go to sleep, and me and Mom will try to do that too?” He receives one more kick for his efforts and then… stillness.
“I’m never going to hear the end of this am I? How she already listens to you?”
He chuckles and eases back down on the bed, pulling her against him once more.
“Never.”
___________________________________________________________________________________
“… Mom told me to run, and then took off. Didn’t know if she was crazy or an enemy agent or what, so I ran after her.” The words are barely above a whisper, so quiet that she wonders if she’s still dreaming. However, a stirring in her middle settles the matter. She’s awake. This is real.
“I know. Looking back on it, I probably didn’t make the best first impression, but cut me some slack. It’s not every day the woman you just walked into thirty seconds ago tells you there’s an ambush waiting for you on the next street up. And you should be glad I chased her down. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.” Is he-
“Not that I’d recommend going up to strange men and saving their lives, Little Miss. It’s a good way for someone to get hurt. Probably not you if Banner’s right about the serum being passed down from parent to child, but still. Not a smart idea.” Yes, it’s exactly what she thought. He’s talking to the baby. “Of course, if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’ll kick their ass. Or Mom will. One of us. The other one will stage the scene so it looks like an accident. And, that’s probably something I shouldn’t be telling you on the off chance you’re hearing any of this.”
“She has ears now.” Her voice is hoarse from disuse, and she grimaces at the sound of it. “Week eighteen’s when they start to work. She can hear us.”
Blue eyes peer up at her, startled, before melting into the familiar, soft expression he usually wears around her. “Hey, Doll. Did I wake you up?”
Shaking her head, she reaches out, covering his metal hand still resting on her middle, with her own. “No. She did.” As if in reply, there’s a bump against their palms, and a smile spreads across his face.
“Yeah. I felt her kicking when I woke up, so I thought I’d try to calm her down for you. Looks like it did just the opposite.”
“No, you succeeded.” With a yawn, she stretches. “Usually she’s ready to rumble at six a.m. This is an improvement.”
A mock frown crosses Bucky’s face. “Now listen here, Little Miss. There’s a limited amount of driving your mom crazy that can happen in a twenty-four hour period, and since I’ve known her longer, I’ve got seniority. You’re gonna have to dial it back by an hour, thirty minutes at least in the mornings. It’s not a smart idea to piss off your landlady.” Apparently, their little one doesn’t agree. His eyes go wide at the sudden, strong movement. “What-”
“She rolled over.” And, that brilliant, genuinely happy smile is back
“That’s…” He searches for the right word. “...amazing.” It is, but if she focuses on it, she’ll start tearing up, and now’s not the time for a hormone-fueled crying jag.
“She’s usually active in the morning. Settles down after breakfast.”
He chuckles. “Is that your way of saying you’d like me to get you something to eat?” Oh, that sounds good. She has some fresh fruit in the refrigerator, but there’s also mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer, and then there’s ramen noodles, which she kind of wants to eat raw for some reason… but no.
“I’ve got it.” She starts to sit up, but doesn’t get very far before he’s easing her back down.
“No you don’t. I’m home now, so I can get back to my real job.” Pecking her forehead, he stands. “Taking care of my girls.”
“Get back here.” It comes out more petulant than she meant it to, which is probably why he pauses just outside the doorway and turns back around to look at her. He didn’t bother with a shirt last night, did he? And those sweatpants… she shakes her head to clear it. “You need your rest.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I think that’s my line, Doll.”
How many days worth of scruff is that, she wonders. The last time he’d let it grow out that long was when they were on that mission in Siberia. It was cold as fuck, and even with their enhancements making them more resilient to the weather, when they finally got back to their hotel room that night, they were nearly frozen solid. The heat wasn’t doing a great job, and so the only logical way to stay warm was to completely undress and lie as close as humanly possible in bed under all the blankets they could get their hands on. Of course, naked cuddling usually leads to naked making out, which lead to what is now a very vivid memory of exactly how that stubble felt between her thighs-
“Which one of us is growing a human right now?” The question snaps her out of her lecherous daydreams. The hormones. That has to be what’s causing this sudden boost in libido.
Clearing her throat, she shoots back, “Which one of us just spent a month getting shot at?” A month. It’s been a whole month since the last time they did anything in this bed other than sleep. She’s fully capable of getting off by herself, but her fingers are a poor replacement for-
“Forget it, solnyshka. You’re not gonna win this one. You’re staying in bed. That’s final.” She’d have something to say about him telling her what to do, but that commanding voice… it’s probably best that she stay in bed. At this point, she’s not sure her legs would hold her up.
“Fine.” It comes out shaky, but it doesn’t appear that he notices.
“Anything in particular you want?” Yeah, she can think of a few things. “Are you still having food aversions-” Oh. He’s talking about food. “-or has that cleared up?”
Grabbing hold of her last shred of sanity, she gasps out, “Anything’s fine.”
He smirks. “Great. Sauerkraut and pickled pig’s feet it is.”
She’s not sure if she manages a laugh, too busy staring as he walks away. Dammit. She needs to take a few deep breaths, get a hold of herself. With a frustrated groan, she pushes back the covers and climbs out of bed. She needs to splash some cold water on her face. Oh, and pee. She’s constantly peeing.
The vision hits her just as she’s dabbing her face with a hand towel. He’s leaning over the stove, cooking… are those pancakes? It’s domestic and sweet and infuriatingly, it riles her up even more. Muttering curses in several languages under her breath, she returns to bed and pulls the covers over her head. Maybe if she concentrates on her slight annoyance that he’s cooking shirtless, which is a damn good way to get yourself burned (of course, they heal fast, so it’s not a huge concern), it’ll help her ignore the ache between her thighs.
Fifteen minutes later when she hears his footsteps on the stairs, she feels like she’s about to spontaneously combust. With a huff, she sits up and attempts to appear normal. As soon as the door opens, she knows it’s a lost cause.
“Here you go. Pancakes, bacon, and tea.” Setting the tray on the nightstand, he climbs back in bed next to her.
“Thanks.” It’s nothing out of the ordinary, him leaning towards her, cradling the back of her head with one hand as he kisses her. It’s not unusual for her to wrap her arms around him, nearly pulling him on top of her as she probes his lips with her tongue, begging for entrance. It’s not even odd for the kiss to go from innocent to filthy, his teeth teasing her bottom lip, making her gasp and tug at his hair. What is odd is that, with a chuckle, he pulls away.
“You’d better eat before it goes cold.”
Smirking, she hooks the chain holding his dog tags (and his wedding ring, still hidden safely from his mission) around her finger and gives a tug. “You know, there’s this amazing new device called a microwave…”
His lips curl up into a knowing smirk. “Oh, so that’s what you’re after, huh?” She feels heat rise to her cheeks as she nods. Luckily, she doesn’t have long to feel embarrassed before his lips are on hers once more.
She can’t contain her gasp as he pushes aside her panties, fingers trailing over her heat. “Sweetheart, you’re drenched.” A moan escapes her as the tip of one cool, metal finger enters her. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed this earlier? I’d be more than happy to help you out.” His palm grinds against her clit as, slowly, he begins to thrust his fingers into her.
Her hand clamps down on his wrist. “Fuck! Bucky-”
He shushes her, lips trailing wet kisses across her jaw. “Just relax. We’ve got all the time in the world.”
That’s all well and good, but as he eases a second finger into her, the thin, cotton tshirt that’s covering her upper half feels far too restraining. “Please-” She gasps out. “-don’t tease.”
“I’m not.” A peck to her nose. “I’m not teasing you.”
“Yes you-” A shudder passes through her as his fingers nudge against her g-spot. “-you are.”
A sigh fans over her exposed collar bone. “I don’t want to hurt you, Doll.”
Gathering all her willpower, she tugs his head down to her level. “James Buchanan Barnes, I am not made of glass. If you don’t get inside of me right now-” A particularly well-aimed thrust of his fingers makes her gasp.
“Alright.” She suppresses a whimper at the sudden emptiness. “How do you want it?”
Her gut screams to tell him, “Anything! Just get on with it!” but a lazy movement in her middle jogs her memory. She can’t comfortably be on her back at this point, and it’s been a month, so she wants to see him…
“I could ride you.” His eyes turn a shade darker at her words, pupils blown with lust.
“Well, I’m not gonna say no to that.”
She’s briefly apprehensive as, after kicking off his bottoms, he eases the t-shirt from her body. She looks a lot different than the last time they did this. What if he doesn’t like-
“Fuck.” His bottom lip slips between his teeth. “Yeah, you’re definitely on top so I can look at you.” And just like that, any residual fear melts away and she can’t push the final offending garment from her body fast enough.
Once he’s resting propped up against the headboard, she takes him in her hand, making him hiss, and slowly, carefully, settles on top of him.
“Oh, fuck.” She’s not sure which one of them moans, too overwhelmed by the sensation of once again, having him inside of her. Finally. Getting used to the feeling, she circles her hips.
“Shit.” At any other time, she’d make a joke about how desperate he sounds, but right now… grasping his shoulders for leverage, she gives an experimental rock against him… she’s beyond teasing.
In the beginning, she sets an easy pace, but with one of his hands grasping her hips, the other one trailing over her middle towards her breasts to tease at the swollen flesh, it doesn’t take long until she’s completely lost, moving against him like her life depends on it.
“That’s it. Take what you need.” She’s not sure if it’s the words or his thump passing over one sensitive nipple that drives her over the edge, but before she can so much as utter a warning, her orgasm crashes over her.
When she opens her eyes, she realizes that he’s staring at her, awestruck. “That’s the first time you’ve been able to cum without-” Oh. She didn’t realize, but neither of them have so much as brushed a thumb against her clit. Her surprise must show on her face, because he grins. “Oh, we’re definitely gonna have fun with this.”
After that, she loses count of how many times she hits her peak, too lost in the feeling of their bodies moving together. One of the advantages of the serum is that they both have incredible endurance, but this is different. It’s something primal, a need she didn’t realize she had being met. Finally, after coming down once again, she wilts against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Tired, solnyshka?” She nods, not lifting her head. His chest rumbles with a quiet chuckle, one she doesn’t have time to understand before she’s being lifted off of his cock and placed gently on her side. A whine escapes her at the momentary loss of contact. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’m not going anywhere.” His body curled around her, he eases back into her, making her hum contentedly.
After doing all the work so far, she can’t help but think to herself that it’s nice to just lay back and let him take her, his hips snapping against hers as his cock nudges against her g-spot.
“Do you think you’ve got one more for me, Doll?” His voice is gruff with effort. He’s close, she can tell.
No sooner has she murmured a quiet “yes” than his hand is between her thighs, fingers toying with the bundle of nerves. Her walls contract, and with a strangled cry, he follows her over the edge.
It takes a few minutes for her to come back to herself, for the murmured words of approval and “I love you”s to have any meaning, but eventually she does recover and, offering him a lazy smile, she whispers, “Welcome home, Barnes.”
#bucky barnes#marvel#the avengers#the winter soldier#captain america#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#smut#fluff#bucky x reader#bucky fic
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A Halfway State - William Schofield
Hello friends! I rewatched 1917 and got super inspired, and out came this! It may not be the best, but I wanted it out there anyways. Also, this is a repost because tumblr goofed and deleted it when I tried to fix the tags. Tell me what you think!
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He is hovering in a halfway state. Since he wiped his hands on the grass and stood to follow orders, he has been both painfully aware and painfully numb. Operating on auto pilot at moments, only to think far too long about his breathing and the throbbing in his left hand and the emptiness at his side.
And then he is shot at. Will thinks of nothing but saving himself as he fires back at the sniper. As he walks up the stairs, he hears his footsteps, his breaths, his own beating heart, and he wishes they’d be a little quieter. Then there is black as he blinks.
It must be a long blink, because he wakes up on his back, his hair matted in something thick and sticky. There is Tom’s voice in his head, laughing about sweet, golden syrup-smelling hair oil. But this is not hair oil. What it is, he can’t place, as his head has gone fuzzy and he no longer hears anything. Not his breaths or his heartbeat or even the memory of Tom’s voice.
Fortunately, perhaps, he cannot think as he stumbles along. There are no memories, no anxieties, no sense of identity. Of course, this lack of cognizance would not occur to him until later, when he tries to recount what happened in the small French town. He will furrow his brows and try to remember how far it was between the building of the dead sniper and the grate to the woman and baby, but he will only have flashes of light that arc across his brain. No thoughts, no words, no sound. Just furious orange in the form of harsh and unforgiving light.
But, of course, he remembers the woman. It was his first realization of his halfway state.
He is sat in the chair, his back to her, and his breathing picks up. Her fingers move to the side of his head, and his heart stutters. A cloth presses to the back of his head, and he groans.
His wife, cradling his face as she checks him over. The way she pressed cold and smooth fingertips against the back of his neck, ran her eyes and her touch over every minor change in his skin. Every scratch, every bruise. The bags under his eyes. And when he had inhaled sharply at a wound he can’t even remember, she had pressed a cold washcloth to it.
“I hated going home,” he’d admitted. The knowledge that he would leave the care of his family to return to a place of horror was crushing. He didn’t think he’d receive a gentle touch again. Best case scenario, not for a few more months, at least. But here he is, head sticky with what he finally realizes is his own blood, being cared for by a woman who he can’t even hold a conversation with.
As his wife’s face and the woman’s morph into one, he has his first clear train of thought since he opened his eyes to water hitting his forehead. He remembers his name, his rank, his mission. He remembers who should be there with him, but who is now lying mere meters from the body of the one who killed him.
He realizes his fragile mentality. He is just about to pull it together, pick his head up from the woman’s touch, when he hears the baby.
My daughter, he thinks, I have to comfort her.
But then the woman is moving and he snaps back to himself. It is a daughter, but not one that belongs to either of the people in the room. He fights off the flickering images of his girls, all of them, and stands slowly. He is becoming aware once again, his senses returning to him, his stream of consciousness not far behind.
The food and milk he had collected go to the pair without hesitation. Will allows himself a moment to interact with the young and innocent life before him, and just as he feels himself start to slip away again, the bells chime. His internal monologue becomes frantic as it reminds him of what he needs to accomplish and the small amount of time he has to do so.
In his recanting of the tale, the next part is a bit blurry, too. He does know what he did, but his memory of it is narrow, every image viewed through a tunnel in his mind’s eye. The one startlingly clear thing in the midst of it is perhaps the one thing he wants to forget. It is the feeling of a pulse fading to nothing under his fingers, the growingly weak swats from a boy younger than even Tom. Logically, Will understands he had to do it. He just wishes otherwise.
Memories of the river are characterized by the burning of his lungs. He thinks that one of the flares from Ecoust could have been fired into his lungs, and it still wouldn’t have burned as much as the water did.
Then, there is a moment of light. The sun had started to rise, and it was snowing around him. Blossoms fell all around, and there was Tom’s voice again, in the back of his mind, urging him on, to look at the trees, Scho, you’re getting closer!
Bile had churned in his stomach, made its way up to his chest. It started to rise as he crawled over the bodies on his way to the river bank. A blink, and he is on hands and knees, sobs ripping out of his throat. The burning in his gut stops somehow, but he doesn’t know if he retched or if his body accepted his cries in return for vomit.
Time has gone all funny again. He isn’t sure how long he stays before he staggers up. There is a melody floating on the wind, but he could be imagining it. He has floated out again. Will is no longer Will, but just a pained soul barely living in a battered body.
A blink, and he is sliding down a tree. It sounds like cotton has been stuffed in his ears. The boy’s voice is not heard, but felt. It bounces around what feels like an empty skull, though he isn’t sure how the song made it in. He trembles no more, and he doesn’t comprehend, much less understand it.
He is surrounded by men. No, not men, boys. So many young ones, waiting anxiously for the fight, buzzing with adrenaline. He looks, and each of them have the same face. Chubby cheeks, dark curls, bright eyes. He can think only of a name that is not his own, and the slightest memory attached. “He looks like me, a little older.” They are surely not who he’s looking for. They are not even as old as his friend.
Another blink. He is surrounded by two, three, four soldiers. He mumbles the basis of his mission, though he doesn’t know how he remembers. But then they are confirming that they’re the Devons, and he is up again and staggering on.
He is not so numb anymore. He is being warmed from the inside, from the ferocity of his anger. Shaking officers he would not speak to so sharply if he was in his right mind, he moves on through. Awareness comes in brief moments, in different ways. The thought that these trenches are white, ashen, like the face of Tom as he was laid down. The memory that he must find Colonel McKenzie and deliver the letter. The indignation that it is suggested that he wait for men to run to their deaths before moving along. The clarity, or perhaps stupidity, of pulling himself up and running the wrong way.
Auditory exclusion is not a term known to Will, but it is the only thing that describes this mad dash. Explosions and war crys threaten to deafen him, or maybe they already have, since he doesn’t hear them. A heartbeat thuds in his ears as he drives on. He is hit by one man, then another, but it doesn’t matter. He must find the colonel, and then he must find Lieutenant Blake.
When he tells this story, whether to others or himself, he remembers his interaction with the colonel, and the major, and every man up to Blake. There is nothing blurring this part of the story. Later on, he might wish that his talk with the man who looks like Tom, just a little older, isn’t so clear in his memory. The fact is, he was hyperaware of every part of that conversation, and the moments thereafter. How the man’s face dropped in the silence between asking where his brother was and Will’s soft, “It was very quick,” how his trembling returned as the lieutenant’s started, how he wasn’t sure if he agreed with the sentiment that it was good Will was the one with Tom, how Joseph’s sob behind Will as he walked was choked, like his own when he made it out of the river.
When he walks towards the tree that looks so much like the one he and Tom once napped under, he feels the haunting melody of the boy in the woods in his very bones. He can’t remember how the song went, but his body doesn’t need perfect recollection to recreate the eeriness of the moment.
Come back to us, and he allows his mind to go to his family willingly for the first time since his last leave. He hopes he will.
#1917#1917 movie#1917 fanfic#1917 imagine#william schofield#scho#william schofield imagine#george mackay#george mackay imagine#tom blake#thomas blake#tom blake imagine#dean charles chapman#dean charles chapman imagine#joseph blake#richard madden#please don't let this flop
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sea glass (amasai week day one)
written for @amasaiweek2020, hosted by @storyflight and @toxicisnotapineapple! i know it’s not Monday over there in America or wherever you are unless you live in Asia like me, but it is very early morning over here so y’all get early content...? the prompt is shy/confession and i chose the latter but it might as well have been tears because, as you can see, i literally used it 510983794789278974983 times. i’m sorry-
this is the first official danganronpa fanfiction i’ve completed besides one i only sent to my friends for mid-autumn festival, so please go easy on the newbie of the day :3 i hope y’all enjoy this! (and if you do enjoy it, do drop over to my ao3 @silveryyy, where this is also posted, and leave a kudos ;) (it’s okay if you don’t tho-)
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Shuichi remembers the day as clearly as if it were just yesterday.
Three long, blurry years could not make a single dent in his memory, in his pain. Three years, and he still flinches at any sound of crashing, still hears the roaring sound of silence rolling in his ears afterwards, still sees the image of the smile he loved so much through the tears blurring his sight into a swirling mess of colours.
Time heals, they’d told him. It’ll numb soon. But Shuichi had never, not once in the half decade he’d spent locked in his room, felt the pain, the grief, the guilt recede- instead, he felt the dread twist deeper into his stomach every day, his lungs squeezed so hard he could hardly breathe with the streams he let pouring down, his gut stabbed, ever so brutally, by a thousand snow-rimmed spears, the deadly cold metal stinging his wounds, and then he’d look down and see nothing at all. The pain, though, still remains, and his heart drops and falls and smashes to the floor into a million tiny fragments that are painstakingly put back together just to be destroyed again the next day. Rivers of guilt and pain flooded his mind day by day, flowing between him and that person he loved so dearly, separating them cruelly on two opposite riverbanks, so so far away from each other.
The mornings are always the worst. He remembers the day after the accident, remembers his eyes opening to sunshine flowing in from the window as always, the fully clear glass fracturing the light ever so slightly to create the most gorgeous rainbows dancing playfully across the walls, casting a golden sheen across the room; the skies such a lovely vibrant shade of azure, smooth as a painter’s steady hand brushing across the ever-expanding canvas. The sky was so clear, without a cloud in sight, like it had not a single care in the world. For a moment, Shuichi had forgotten the day before, forgotten the endless tears shed, the screams that echoed the air, and actually felt his spirits life and soar as high as a joyful bird dashing up into the world. It’d only made him hurt more when the imaginary world breaks into pieces and bits and pieces of memories, ironically just like sunlight, streams into him through the faux happiness, like how the sun always finds a way to break out of the dark sheets of tar-like clouds.
Three painful years, with no one there for him, no one to ease his mind, no one to comfort him.
To be completely fair, his friends did try to help. Kaede still lets herself in every other day, after her day job at the local coffee shop, to shake Shuichi awake, make him a small dinner and prepare simple meals for him when she wasn't there, maybe try to coax him out of the house. She never gave up on him, never gave up on trying desperately to cheer him up, to have him pick up the life he once had. Maki comes over as much as she can- she's busy, being a kindergarten teacher, sits with Shuichi and talks about her day, talks about Kaito, and sometimes they just mourn, together, and he ends up crying and Maki just silently comforts him. Unlike Kaede (not to say she isn’t of any help, Kaede’s great and helps him take his mind off the incident), Maki more than understands- she shares in the pain of having lost a loved one- when Kaito'd died of cancer four years ago, Shuichi'd been completely devastated at the loss of his best friend and brother, but Maki definitely bore the brunt of the impact. At least he'd had Rantaro to help him then. Now-
It's too painful to think about. But even if his friends tried their best to help him- his other friends/old classmates drop in from time to time as well- they're just… not the people he wants to see or talk to. Despite their attempts to have him move on, he just can't, the last argument he had with… him still deeply etched into his brain, every single moment he'd spent with his ex-boyfriend imprinted onto his eyelids. None of his friends, none of them except maybe Maki, truly understand, truly get why he's chosen to stay here mourning the loss of his lifeline.
He feels guilty whenever they try to usher him out, though. He remembers the first time Kaede tried to persuade him to go out, his outburst at his foster sister, and she looked more scared than he'd ever seen her. That expression'd been enough for his anger to fade away into the dark wisps of shadows that now permanently reside in the corners of his eyes, always waiting to strike.
He remembers being so shocked and horrified at himself that the glass mug slipped from his hand, the crystal-like cup shattering into tiny sharp fragments, and they'd both flinched at the high-pitched crash, Shuichi's heart falling with it. He’d looked at Kaede, and opened his mouth to apologize at the sight of her large, sweet plum coloured eyes filled with guilt and tears, but she’d quietly beat him to it and slipped out of the doors, leaving Shuichi alone, alone with the click of the doors, and his own screaming, and the sound of the glass shattering on the floor echoing over and over again.
For three years, he hid away in his apartment. For three years, he’d been mourning alone, shut in his room, buried under the numerous blankets he kept in his closet.
But today, he decides, he’s going to break that record. For the first time since his best friend’s death, he’s going to go outside.
For the first time in ages, he actually wants to go out.
The last time he’d gone out was the day his best friend left him, left him alone in this cold and unforgiving world. He remembers coming home to his phone buzzing from a text, from Rantaro, the first time they’d talked since the large, intense argument they’d had two whole weeks prior. Rantaro’d been in Europe since that argument, with the only sister- Rina, a sweet girl five years younger than both Rantaro and Shuichi- he’d found over the countless years of searching- now the sole heiress of the Amami fortune- looking for his other siblings.
“I’m sorry.”
It was so sudden that Shuichi hadn’t known how to respond at all. He’d stared at the text, at the two words glowing on his screen, trying to figure out what to say. He wasn’t mad at Rantaro, not at all, (now he thinks that it was so stupid of him to argue, if he hadn’t he’d have been with Rantaro and Rina in Europe, he might have been able to save a life and saved so many hearts-) but, what if, what if he’d suddenly said something wrong? What if he destroys their friendship once and for all?
He didn't get to be anxious over it for long, though. Barely five minutes later, he’d gotten a phone call from Rina, a call that completely turned his life upside down.
Rina’s completely broken voice, shaking as tears surely were flooding down her cheeks, rough and raw from screaming, still haunts him. He still hears her sobs as she’d delivered the news at night, while sinking in the giant cushion of cruel dreams and misleading unconsciousness.
He couldn’t even bear to leave the house for the funeral. Somehow, the idea of seeing Rantaro’s broken body, bruised and pale and so void of any life at all, was so scary, and frightening. It’d felt so surreal, like he was dreaming and couldn’t wake up at all….
In his memory, Rantaro is smiling. Happy. Alive. His eyes are so full of life, full of care and kindness.
He brushes off a tear, and with shaking hands, tentatively opens the door.
Maki’s waiting downstairs for him, having promised to drive him. She smiles at Shuichi when he appears at the top of the staircase, but it doesn’t reach her eyes- they’re dull and full of sadness, and probably reflect Shuichi’s own. Sometimes Shuichi forgets that Maki was close with Rantaro too, but the pain in her eyes says it for her today all too clearly. Shuichi returns the greeting with a slight inclination of his head, not daring to say anything in case his voice breaks, and his walls fall.
She doesn’t say anything either, just wordlessly gestures for him to get on, her gaze bitter. Her car is a gorgeous shade of glossy sapphire and it shimmers in the morning sunlight, projecting a soft warm silk-like sheen of light that almost seems to coat the vehicle, and Shuichi is reminded of the ocean- gently rocking the boat like a baby’s cradle and its waves softly caressing the vessel sometimes but roughly pushing it from side to side and violently crashing over one’s head in others- as he looks at the colour, and he feels as if he’s drowning in the wild raging waters of heartbreak.
It’s also vaguely similar to the deep navy blue that forms the base of the galaxy, the shade that swirls to form so many beautiful and yet unpredictable patterns upon the dark spans of canvas at night. He wonders briefly if Maki picked this colour in memory of Kaito, of the love of her life she lost to dreadful lung cancer, of the space he used to love and fantasise about so much.
In so many ways, Maki is much stronger than he, Shuichi, is. Even after the death of her boyfriend, she’s still able to pick herself back up, able to actually get back on her feet and continue living on with Kaito’s stars shining a pathway in her eyes, guiding her hands and mind, and his memory in her heart that she carries with her everywhere. She lives on and her world keeps spinning where Shuichi’s stopped, lives with a smile that Kaito instilled in her, remembers the good memories and is able to move on, truly once and for all, carrying the fond memories she smiles upon without a single trace of bitterness with her.
Shuichi envies her, envies that she has the courage to stand up and brush the pain off her as if it were just simply dust and ashes, when he’s falling into an endless spiral of despair with no way out.
It’s too upsetting, though, he decides, to think about it now. He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the door open, hands fumbling to pull himself into the chamber.
It takes them a whole hour to get to their destination, complete with a quick stop to the nearest boutique. Shuichi clutches the flowers he picked out tightly, restlessly fiddling with some of them, absentmindedly weaving a few roses into a small flower wreath. Maki’s mostly silent as she drives along the deserted roads of the countryside, and Shuichi stares outside the glass panes, at the miles and miles of rolling emerald fields, the sun shining upon it relentlessly. He can’t help but think how Rantaro would’ve tried to break the silence, giving him that beautiful smile and initiating a conversation that would bloom to become lively and animated, and end with all of them smiling or laughing. Rantaro was perceptive like that, knowing when people needed support and being able to cheer them up in the best ways possible.
Shuichi wonders what Rantaro thinks of him now, if he were watching Shuichi in his afterlife. Would he be disgusted, disappointed with how Shuichi is wasting away his life? Supportive and encouraging, understanding that Shuichi can’t move on? Hoping that he’ll see sense soon?
“You’re nervous,” Maki breaks the silence around them, her eyes not leaving the road for a single second, but Shuichi knows she’s directing her statement towards him.
Shuichi lets out a breath, “who wouldn’t be?” He can feel his stomach turning over and over, and the horizon seems so blurred, the shades of blue and green swirling together into a mess of emotions as the tears swim in his eyes. He can feel his throat tightening, and the dread settle in his gut, sinking slowly but surely, like heavy grey stones.
Maki laughs bitterly. “Yea, true.” Shuichi doesn’t look at her, is scared to look at her in fear he’ll break down and they’d have no choice but to turn back again, but he’s certain Maki’s hands are shaking terribly as her slender fingers tap on the wheel. “You don’t have to be, though. Rantaro would understand why you’ve put this off for so long. It’s not easy.”
She doesn’t continue, but Shuichi knows what she doesn’t say. It was especially hard on you.
“Would he, though?” Shuichi remembers clearly, the last thing he ever said to Rantaro, harsh words he regretted for years in a harsh fight. Rantaro’s eyes, pleading, the lemongrass colour Shuichi adored so much infused with tears, Shuichi telling him to leave him alone, stop bothering him. He’s regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but by then Rantaro was already gone, with nothing but the tear stains left all over the ground by both of them, left behind. Shuichi didn’t have enough courage to take the initiative, to face his best friend after that, but never in his wildest dreams would he have had ever imagined that he wouldn’t ever get a chance to apologize and make amends. He knew very well that Rantaro had done nothing wrong at all, that it was him, him and his issues and bad mood, and Rantaro had simply walked in at the wrong time when Shuichi was weak and vulnerable and just upset. Still, he’d pushed Rantaro away, hurt both of them at the same time, unknowingly the last time they’d see each other.
Rantaro had died thinking that Shuichi hated him, that Shuichi didn’t want him around, that Shuichi didn’t trust Rantaro enough.
All of which were false, and Shuichi, to this day, can barely live with that fact.
Rina had told him that the crash hadn’t instantly killed her brother. According to the younger girl, the bus had gone completely out of control in the middle of the countryside, veering completely off the road, crashing into a tree and flipping back onto the road, this time upside down. It’d killed most of the other passengers on impact, knocked a few others unconscious, but Rantaro had grabbed his sister the moment things had started to go wrong, keeping Rina safe and one of the only survivors of the crash. Rina’d described to him in tears when she visited him how Rantaro had reached for his phone desperately despite being severely injured, stabbed all over by the shattered windows, just to try calling Shuichi (who was unfortunately in the elevator),and when there’d been no response, he’d painstakingly typed out his final words to Shuichi, wincing in unbearable pain with every moment. “He refused to stop no matter how much i begged him,” Rina had said, her face stained with numerous tear tracks that were being constantly renewed. “He really did love you a lot.”
That night, and countless nights after that, he dreamt of Rantaro’s last moments, exactly how Rina had described it to him. It played, and replayed, and replayed in his mind, constantly torturing him with the knowledge that his best friend, his crush, the one person he loved beyond everything else, went through such pain just to reach him, and died not knowing that Shuichi wasn’t mad and loved him with all his heart.
Shuichi knows, deep down, that he doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve that love that Rantaro had endlessly and unconditionally shown and devoted to him.
Countless memories flash before his eyes, and Rantaro laughs and smiles in them, his eyes so bright and full of life and happiness, taken away from him too soon. He always had a way of comforting people, and it was so hard to not smile in his presence… ever so easygoing and kind, ever so calm and collected. It drew so many people to him, most of all Shuichi. He remembers how Rantaro’s eyes lit up in excitement and anticipation when they’d travelled to anywhere he hadn’t been; the concern so blatant on his face whenever Shuichi got himself injured or neglected his meals; the concentration he held in his eyes when he’d walked in on Rantaro sketching, his colour pencils scratching the parchment lightly, Rantaro’s chuckle as he tore the drawing off the sketchbook and pressed it into Shuichi’s hand....
“You’re too harsh on yourself,” Maki says, and takes one hand off the wheel, placing it over Shuichi’s trembling pair, as the car slides into the empty carpark. “Rantaro isn’t the type of person to be angry at you for something like this, and you know it.”
He can’t say a thing, not without letting the urging stream currently held back by a weak imaginary dam rush out and drip down his cheeks. He slips out of the car once it comes to a stop, and Maki comes to his side after locking the doors. She looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t, and instead wordlessly walks away towards the onyx iron gates glittering in the sun.
She looks back at him as she approaches the gates, and Shuichi follows her steps as Maki pushes them open slowly.
Beyond the gates is a path sheltered by tall oaks and towering willows on both sides, leading to an open field framed with trees, holding rows upon rows of uniformly arranged warm grey stones, an endless meadow of rest for the deceased. Maki heads straight for them, maneuvering around the graves easily with complete certainty, like she had the route memorized and printed clearly into her mind, and her feet would find the correct path without error even if she wasn’t looking. She must’ve walked this same path a thousand times.
Shuichi follows her after a slight moment of hesitation. Maki stands at the side of one of the rows in the middle, and as he approaches her, she walks to the seventh slot, and kneels before it. She drops her own bouquet of blossoms, takes the wreath of roses from his hand lightly, and places it on top of the gravestone for him, and with a shock, Shuichi realizes that Maki is crying.
Her silent tears make their way down her face and fall onto the cushion of soft grass beneath her knees. They remain in the quiet for a while, with no sound except for the rush of the wind and the soft chirping of the birds in the distance.
He can’t even recall the last time he’s seen Maki cry at all, at least not since Kaito’s funeral (which was natural, considering they were completely and utterly in love). Seeing her expressing her emotions, letting the droplets run freely across her cheeks and glisten in the sunlight, is so utterly devastating and somehow relieving (as opposed to how reserved she was when he’d met her and Kaito in primary school) at the same time. Maki used to spend so much time with Kaito, it’s so easy to forget she and Rantaro were childhood friends, but in times like this it’s clear that they were at least close. The scene pushes at his own tear ducts, and he holds back his sobs, in fear he might distress Maki even more.
Eventually, she raises her hand to swipe off the tears, and stands. “I’ll give you a little bit of privacy,” her voice is soft and trembling and so fragile, completely opposite to her normal tone. “I’ll be over at Kaito’s, you remember where that is?”
Shuichi nods, and Maki picks up her flowers and walks away.
He takes Maki’s previous position, kneeling before the gravestone, and finally lets out the sobs he’s kept. Finally, he lets the regret, the guilt, the grief, the pain all out at once, letting it stream down and away from him.
“You finally came,” A familiar voice says, and Shuichi looks up to see the image of a teenage boy sitting on the edge of the stone. “I was wondering when I’d finally get to see you.”
He looks exactly the same as when Shuichi last saw him, down to the very last detail- his tousled green hair, the soft aegean-and-white striped sweater he loved so much, the same charcoal coloured jeans, the warmth he held in those pretty lemongrass eyes. He was sixteen when he left, and he looks like he hasn't aged at all- which, admittedly, he probably hasn't. Do people age in heaven? Is there even a heaven?
Well… if there is one, Rantaro would definitely be there.
“Rantaro,” Shuichi chokes out. "I-"
The person in question shushes him, a faint smile remaining on his lips. "It's okay, Shuichi. Don't apologize."
Shuichi brushes away his tears, "How could I not?" His voice wavers and shakes as he speaks. "I- I yelled at you for nothing- you-"
"Shu, it's okay," the smile doesn't leave Rantaro's face. Why isn't he angry? Why isn't he- "It's okay to just be feeling upset. It's okay to take your time to process something that impacted you as much as my death did."
And there it was- the ease with which he addressed his own death, like it was something out of his control. Like Shuichi couldn’t have saved Rantaro in another world or another timeline. “But I- I could have saved you, I could have saved all this pain-”
“Shu... “ Rantaro shakes his head. “It’s already been done. It’s fine, it’s completely fine… I’m proud of you, already, for coming here today to see me. You’ve been so brave.”
His hands seem to instinctively reach to touch Shuichi’s head, but Rantaro quickly retracts it before it touches the other man. Shuichi, however, stands and hugs his friend, not caring about the freezing coldness spreading across his body, burying his face into Rantaro’s shoulder as he sobs into him. In life, his friend was always so warm, in contrast to Shuichi’s constant coldness, but now he’s deadly cold, but Shuichi doesn’t mind.
Rantaro hugs him back, and for a moment Shuichi feels like they were back in the past, three years ago, when Rantaro was always with him. “I love you,” he blurts, “I never really got to tell you that, even if I did crush on you for ages,” he laughs bitterly at all the years he spent pining for his best friend, “ and you were gone so quickly- so soon, when I thought we’d have more time, and the argument, and all, I’m so sorry…”
“I love you too,” Rantaro replies simply, and Shuichi’s heart soars, “that was quite sudden, though,” he adds, “very unconventional. I like it,” he chuckles. “ why wouldn’t I like you back? For someone who’s so smart and quick normally, you can be dense when it comes to your feelings and feelings others have for you… Akamatsu-san crushed on you for years, and as did I, and you had no idea.”
Shuichi laughs through his tears, “So I’ve been told,” he says, “I should’ve told you earlier, maybe we’d be able to avoid all this.”
Rantaro smiles, shaking his head again. “What’s done is done, Shuichi, there’s nothing we can do to turn back time. Besides, I don’t blame you for being upset about being bullied for something as personal as sexual orientation, let alone being taunted for crushing over me.”
The other man goes quiet, “you knew?”
The smile Rantaro gives Shuichi is a sad one, “Kokichi told me after I left you alone. I’m sorry for triggering you that day, I shouldn’t have-”
“Don’t say that,” Shuichi cuts him off, “please, Rantaro, it was my fault for yelling at you.” He doesn’t say that his mistake haunts him for days, for months, for years, that he still dreams of it and wakes up screaming in the mornings. It’s his fault, after all, and he deserves the punishment.
“How was it your fault?” Rantaro’s voice is soft. “Listen, Shu, there’s no going back now. We had so many chances, but all those are over now and I don’t regret ever loving you, I don’t regret a single second of the time we spent together. Our chapter of your story, the final chapter of mine, it’s over, Shuichi. It’s time for you to move on now, to turn over the page and find your happiness again.” He pulls away, ushering Shuichi to sit down on the grass. “There’s nothing I want more than to see you truly happy again.”
“But- but,” Shuichi starts, “how do I go on without you? How do I move on-” his voice breaks and he whispers, “how do I move on without you with me? Without you guiding me?”
Rantaro smiles lightly, “I’ll always be there for you, with you. My memory’s always in your heart, isn’t it?” He reaches up and unclasps the necklace around his neck, the one piece of jewelry Shuichi had never seen his best friend without, and he grabs Shuichi’s hand gently, shoving the necklace in it. “Part of me is always with you.”
Shuichi stares at the priceless treasure he holds in his hand, the blues and greens in the sea glass swirling into a gorgeous whirlpool, and he’s reminded of the gentle waves lapping at Rantaro’s boat, that one time they sailed to find Rantaro’s sister. It reminds him abruptly of the one night of his life he’ll always remember, one beautiful night when Rantaro got himself drunk and accidentally kissed Shuichi. Rantaro’d forgotten the incident the next morning, and Shuichi had been too embarrassed and nervous to tell him what had happened, but he remembered the feeling of the lips of his first love pressed against his own, and the feeling that everything was right in the world when the green-haired boy had taken his first kiss. He smiles sadly at the necklace, knowing things like that would never happen again.
But that doesn’t mean he can’t do it just once again. He pulls Rantaro down from where the other was perched on the gravestone, and ignoring the feeling of ice that spreads across his body, he kisses the man he loves so much. Rantaro seems alarmed and surprised at first, but he complies and kisses him back, and Shuichi can’t control his crying as he melts into the person he fell in love with so long ago.
Eventually, Shuichi pulls away, and hugs Rantaro instead, wrapping his arms around the other and clutching on as tight as possible. It feels so bittersweet, and Shuichi knows this is the last time he’ll see Rantaro, at least until he dies himself, but somehow, he’s alright with that, at least more than he was before he came to see Rantaro. At least, now, he has closure, and something to look forward to. At least now, he knows that he isn’t alone. He’s had a chance to say goodbye, a chance to write the final sentences of the last chapter, a chance to reconcile with what he thought was long gone.
Only one question remains, that Shuichi needs to ask Rantaro.
The man in question only smiles at Shuichi as the latter asks, “is this real, and are you really here? Or am I dreaming and all this is only my imagination?”
Rantaro holds Shuichi’s hands as the latter sits up, having pulled back from the hug, and lets lemongrass meet the green grey that is Shuichi's eyes. “Of course it’s a dream, an act of imagination, but why should that mean it isn’t real?”
Shuichi lets out a laugh, “thank you. I love you, Rantaro Amami,” he takes a deep breath, pushing away further tears. “Thank you for all you’ve given me.”
Rantaro smiles, “I love you too, Shuichi Saihara,” he lets go of Shuichi’s hands. “Thank you, for being the most amazing friend and crush I could ever have asked for, thank you for the happiness you gave me, thank you for everything.”
And Shuichi cannot help but brush away a tear as the image of his best friend fades away and is carried off by the gentle spring breeze, and picks up the bouquet of forget-me-nots lying on the ground. He places it right in front of Rantaro’s gravestone, and his mind is full of images of the drawing Rantaro had gifted him years ago that is still placed on his desk, the vibrant azure of forget-me-nots captured eternally in colour pencil.
He stands, and the light of the late morning sun shines over him as he looks over the graveyard, his gaze sweeping over the endless rows of stones, and landing back on Rantaro’s. He looks down, and with a start, realizes that a certain sea glass necklace is still in his hand.
He holds it with both hands, caressing it softly with his thumb, his fingers moving across the glossy, reflective surface of the gem as droplets land on the sea glass and allows light to pass through, fracturing the sunlight into countless tiny rainbows shining on the surface of the sea glass.
With a small laugh, he clasps it around his neck, tucking it behind his black T shirt, and feels the cool gem drop onto his skin. He lets his gaze move to a farther spot, where Maki is kneeling before Kaito’s grave, and starts to make his way over, but not without looking back at Rantaro’s grave, and whispering “thank you”.
And for the first time in three years, Shuichi smiles, genuinely.
#danganronpa#danganronpa fanfiction#danganronpa v3#amasai#amasai week 2020#there should be some italics but i'm too tired to read through it again to add them#rantaro amami#shuichi saihara#angst#silveryyyy's fanfiction#hurt/comfort
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Thomas Perspective (13/19)
By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67
Warnings: injury again, fear
First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter
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Thomas wasted no time in packing all his essentials and heading towards outside. He didn’t have any food but he should be fine. He’s lasted a long time without any and he’s already had several things to eat all day. Which should hold him over.
When he opened the exit to the outside, he saw that it was actually sprinkling. Thomas winced, debating on whether or not to wait the rain out. But it was just a light drizzle...and he wanted as far away from this building as possible. So the borrower decided to take his chances with the rain.
He had decided to go two buildings over, to put as much distance between him and this building as he could. But that meant quite the trek for him. Sighing, he began his journey.
As he stepped into the grass, ducking low and carefully watching his surroundings in case a human came out, the rain got worse. Gone was the light droplets, it was now full on pouring. And for a borrower, that was bad. He spit out some water and tried to use his backpack to cover him as he ran towards the edge of the grass.
Through the harsh downpour though, he was unable to see the human walking towards him. It appeared the human was clueless as well, which was good. But what wasn’t good was the swift kick Thomas received, sending him flying back across the pavement and into the next patch of grass.
Thomas groaned, spitting out water as he laid in a shallow, muddy puddle. He tried to sit up but fell back down with a loud cry. Splashing his face into the water. He turned his head in order to breath, laying there in pain. The borrower’s vision blurred as his head pounded and he shut his eyes tight, hoping it would just stop.
Roman thought the rain was fitting for his mood, letting it soak him to the core as he went for a walk to clear his head. He sighed, ducking his head and watching a few droplets as they fell from his hair, dropping to the sidewalk below.
He had been so...so stupid. What had he been thinking? He had treated Thomas like some curious fairy or doll or...Roman paused in his steps, shuffling his tennis shoes against the wet pavement. The worst part was there was no one to blame but himself.
Roman frowned, noticing a strange track by the side of the sidewalk. His eyes followed it, directly into a puddle where a familiar face sat trembling and in pain.
“Thomas!” Roman cried out, kneeling down to scoop up the borrower.
Barely recognizing who it was, Thomas tried in vain to struggle. “N-No…” He groaned in pain once again as he moved his arm wrong.
“I’m so sorry about this.” Roman whispered, standing up and quickly heading back to the apartment building. He knew Thomas didn’t want to be with them, but he couldn’t just leave Thomas out here to die! Logan was right, they should have never-
Roman paused in the lobby, dripping water onto the carpet. Logan would know what to do. With this mindset, Roman began to head up to Logan’s apartment, taking the stairs two at a time but ever mindful to keep Thomas steady in his palms.
Thomas continued to tremble in Roman’s hand. Both from the pain and the cold as the rain had soaked through his clothes completely. “L-Let...g-go.” Thomas tried to get out, teeth chattering so much it was painful. He was just barely hanging on to consciousness at this point.
“I will.” Roman promised, meaning it. He knocked hurriedly on Logan’s door, not stopping for a moment until the vet student answered the door, looking tired and a little confused.
“Thomas is hurt.” Roman explained, instantly gaining Logan’s attention as he held the borrower out slightly.
Logan’s eyes widened, quickly ushering Roman inside. “What happened?” Logan asked quietly, already grabbing his med kit.
“I don’t know.” Roman admitted. “I was out in the rain and I found him like this.” Of course, the way Roman was leaving a water trail made it perfectly clear where Roman had been.
The blurry sight of two humans just made Thomas try to struggle more but he immediately stopped with a loud cry of pain. He clenched his middle tight, tears mixing in with the water streaks from the rain.
“Ah!” Roman began to get frantic. “Logan, what do we do?”
“First of all, don’t panic.” Logan pulled on his gloves, pulling a dish towel out to fold up and serve as a bed. “Set him here.”
Roman did as instructed, setting Thomas down.
“It’s alright, Thomas.” Logan spoke softly, beginning to wipe the borrower clean with a washcloth.
Thomas tried to push against the washcloth but his attempts were weaker than usual. He quickly gave up and succumbed to whatever Logan was trying to do.
“He’s experiencing some possible symptoms of hypothermia, but otherwise looks relatively uninjured.” Logan winced. “Minus the...usual bruising.”
“What does that mean?” Roman asked, peering over Logan’s shoulder. “Is he going to be alright or not, Dr. DoLittle?”
“Likely, yes, he will recover.” Logan nodded. “Although first we will need to wrap him in blankets to gradually warm his body’s core temperature.”
At the first mention of ‘blankets’, Roman was already out of the room, dashing back to the living room with several of Logan’s blankets in his arms.
“...I think we will only need one.” Logan observed, looking down at Thomas’ size. His face fell, realizing how little Thomas was moving. He gently lifted the borrower, grabbing a blanket from Roman and swaddling Thomas in the soft fabric.
At this point Thomas just barely knew what was going all. He didn’t know how he became wrapped up in warmth but he wasn’t about to complain. Ever so slowly, he stopped shivering.
“Keep an eye on him.” Logan instructed, heading into the kitchen. “I’m going to start some soup for when he awakens.”
Roman nodded, taking his task seriously as he stayed knelt in front of the couch. He took one of the spare blankets around himself, shivering slightly.
“Thomas?” Roman asked quietly, when a good few minutes had passed.
Thomas answered with a quiet whimper. His eyes opened just halfway, focusing on the blurry image of Roman in front of him.
“There you are.” Roman let out a sigh of relief. “You had me worried for a moment there.”
Thomas tried to shift his body but hissed as it aggravated his bruises. He should really just stop moving. He wanted to say something-what, he wasn’t sure-but his eyes started to close again. The warmth surrounding him finally lulling him to sleep.
“...Thomas?” Roman blinked, leaning forwards.
“How is he?” Logan asked, returning with a bowl of soup and a bottle cap.
“Um...I think he fell asleep.” Roman admitted.
“Roman, what are you still doing in this wet clothes?” Logan frowned, only now fully realizing that Roman was a dripping puddle on the floor.
Roman sneezed.
“I am not watching over two of you if you get sick as well.” Logan sighed, pulling Roman to his feet. He gently guided Roman to his bedroom. “Put on some of mine, at least they’ll be dry.”
“And nerdy.” Roman muttered, but he did as was asked of him.
Thomas groaned awake, body still hurting but his brain was a lot less fuzzy than before. He opened his eyes before quickly shutting them again at the light. Wanting to be in another position, he carefully shifted so he was on his back.
Logan returned to the living room first, just in time to spot slight movement in the sheets. He sat down in front of the couch, beginning to scoop some soup into the tiny cap.
Thomas opened his eyes again as he heard something and looked up to meet eyes with Logan. Heart pounding, Thomas whimpered as he tried to scoot back.
“It’s alright, Thomas.” Logan spoke softly, keeping his volume low as he held out the cap as an offering.
Thomas flinched back, looking at Logan warily. After seeing that it was just food in the cap, Thomas carefully sat up and took it. He gave it a little sip and the drink warmed his insides. He sighed happily.
Logan sat back, keeping his eyes on the rest of the soup still in the bowl so that he didn’t unnerve Thomas with his staring.
Thomas finished up the portion he was giving, feeling sleepy once again. He set the cap to the side before letting out a small yawn.
“Are you still hungry?” Logan kept his voice quiet, noticing how tired the borrower appeared.
Thomas shook his head. “N-No.” He stuttered, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. He was so tired but he was scared to fall asleep fully in the human’s presence.
“Alright.” Logan sat forwards, grabbing the bottle cap and setting it to the side. He gazed thoughtfully at Thomas. “May I ask what happened?”
Thomas squirmed at the gaze, looking down. Thomas sighed, seeing no point in keeping it from Logan. “I was...on my way to the next building but it was raining. It-It wasn’t raining that hard at first and I thought I could make it but then it started raining harder. It got so hard to see and a...a human, um, ended up kicking me across the pavement and into the grass…” Thomas winced, his injuries flaring up just thinking about it.
“Oh.” Logan’s eyebrows knit together with worry. “Are you still in pain? I can get you a hand warmer if you’re still cold, it might help ease any lesser injuries.”
Thomas was still in a bit of pain but the blanket was helping with the cold just fine. And Thomas didn’t want to appear weak with these humans...though he supposed maybe he was too late on that. “I’m-” he yawned. “I’m fine. Thanks and all but I can take it from here-ah!” He tried to push himself up but ended up pulling on one of his sore muscles wrong. He went back down into the blanket, breathing heavily.
Logan winced, hating to see Thomas overexerting himself just to get away. “Thomas, please rest.” Logan urged. “Nothing is going to happen, you’re safe here.”
Thomas wanted to protest but his body had another idea. So with a sigh he gave in, laying back down in the blanket he was given. With one last glance at Logan, Thomas’ eyes closed and he drifted off into a deep sleep.
Logan gave a small sigh of relief, watching Thomas fall asleep. He knew the borrower must still be tense around him, so the act was more one of extreme exhaustion rather than trust, but Logan was thankful for it all the same. The borrower deserved some rest.
“How is he?” Roman asked, coming back into the room in a pair of Logan’s PJs.
“He’s asleep.” Logan put a finger to his lips, keeping his volume down as he stood up to join Roman. “I think we should do the same.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Roman asked for what felt like the millionth time.
“Yes.” Logan assured him, setting out some leftover blankets on the floor of his bedroom for Roman. He knew he couldn’t get Roman to leave if he tried. Besides, it was far too late to argue. “Thomas ate some soup and fell asleep. He should be well on the way to recovery.”
Roman settled into the little nest, thankful for Logan’s hospitality. The light was turned off, and both boys were left to stare at the dark ceiling, neither able to get to sleep just yet.
“Do you think he’ll stick around this time?” Roman whispered. There was a pause.
“I don’t know.” Logan admitted.
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Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer
Chapter 19
Link:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/59610190
When Nick left James he was still a bit confused, but he also had one end in mind now: Arthur. So he decided to stay focused on him alone. Arthur however had been impatiently waiting all day long, since he had woken up alone in his lover’s bed. He had spent the time blaming himself for letting him go in the first place, because who knew when he came back? He wondered if he should have insisted in coming with him. Even though it would’ve been dangerous for him as a downer and maybe too early, after their first date. But he wasn’t sure if it felt better to be here now, all alone and not daring to leave the hideout, because he didn’t want to miss out on Nick.
Sitting on the ground, he was listening for every little noise while the tunnel seemed to be much sadder and darker this day. Many times he jumped for no reason, because everything he heard was either a rat or something else insignificant. It was tiring to sit around like that and he didn’t notice how his eyes fell shut.
When Nick found him, he was asleep and curled up on the stone floor. Nick was ravished at the sight. He carefully stretched out a finger and stroked the other man’s cheek with it.
„Arthur,“ he purred, „Hey, sleepyhead…Wake up.“
Nick thought it was adorable how he slowly stirred, opened his eyes and changed his expression from surprised to cheerful.
„Nick,“ he said quietly and Nick loved the sound.
„Good morning,“ he greeted him playfully and Arthur, who was still a bit puzzled, returned the greeting and shortly looked around.
„Why are you sleeping down here? Looks highly uncomfortable,“ Nick went on.
„Uh…,“ the other man said while struggling to get up, pulling himself up on the wall. „I didn’t plan to fall asleep.“
Nick lent him a hand to help him up and Arthur felt a pulse run through his body when he touched his lover’s hand. He couldn’t explain himself any further because he was immediately pulled into a passionate kiss that made him think he wanted to wake up like that every morning. When they let go, Nick cupped Arthur’s head, petting his cheeks with his thumbs and asked: „Are you better today?“
Arthur nodded, and Nick started to run a hand down his back.
„Shall I massage you again? What do you think?“
Arthur smiled. He would love to get another massage, but this time he had other plans with his lover.
„I think we should leave the tunnel for once,“ he announced and Nick gulped.
„Leave? You mean, walk on the street?“
„Exactly.“
Nick felt hot and cold at the same time.
„Isn’t that dangerous for you?“
„Not in the Garden District.“
At that, Nick’s worries faded and he turned curious instead. He remembered the flowers.
„Is it beautiful there?“
„Yes. That and a bit sad too. But definitely more peaceful than the town.“
„And it’s harmless? I mean there’s rumors and all. Of course we mustn’t believe in any of them but you know better than Uncle Jack, right?“
„No part of town is harmless, we still have to keep our eyes open,“ Arthur explained matter-of-factly. „But I know my way around and I know where we are pretty much safe. In addition,“ he poked Nick into the side, „I can protect you.“
With that, Nick’s worries faded completely and now he couldn’t wait to see Arthur in his element.
„Let’s go then, what are we waiting for?“, he shouted and dashed forward. Arthur quickly followed him, yelling: „Wait, you don’t even know the way!“
Later, they walked side by side along the underground rails and Nick acted like an excited child at christmas.
„Do you think we’ll see these red flowers you’ve given me?“
„Sure, they aren’t that rare in this district. They are easier to find at night of course, and they look better then too,“ Arthur answered, being glad he could finally spend time with Nick. He had long noticed how lonely he his life had been, even in the past when he was still taking Joy, or maybe especially then.
When they stopped at a hatch and Arthur started to open it, Nick almost bursted with excitement.
„Is that it? Are we there?“
„Yep,“ Arthur said playfully. „We only need to go past this door.“
As soon as it opened with a screeching sound, Nick tried to dart through it, but Arthur quickly created a barrier with his arm.
„Not so fast,“ he said and chuckled. „First, we need to look if I need to distract someone.“
Nick stepped back again and watched how Arthur went out and looked around.
Bright sunbeams broke through the door crack, the grass had a tempting tone of lush green and the part of the sky that Nick could see was light blue. In between all this stood Arthur, with his hair glittering in the sunlight. He thought it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Seconds later Arthur turned back to him and waved him over.
„The coast is clear.“
Nick joined him and took a deep breath.
„And the air too,“ he added, then he dropped his jar as he saw the garden in it’s full glory. Surely he knew the parks in town, with their neatly laid out flowerbeds in all colors, but just now he realized what they tried to imitate. The district looked huge, with nothing but bright green meadows and high trees up to the horizon.
„Does it look everywhere like this?“, he asked Arthur who was really proud of his idea to show this place to his lover.
„Yes…for the most part,“ he said beaming.
Nick stared into the distance with awe.
„Are there no houses?“, he asked in disbelief.
„There are…“, Arthur confirmed and his smile faded. „This is where the sad part begins.“
His words caused Nick to turn his head around and look at him.
„If you want to see it, I can take you there, but we have to look at it from a far distance.“
„Are they dangerous?“
„No…but the residents…they would notice that we are from the town. And then they’d become a bit…unpleasant.“
„Unpleasant?“
„In other words, they aren’t as happy as they should be.“
„Why?“
Arthur wondered how much of the truth he could tell Nick.
„It’s the Joy…they can’t tolerate it anymore.“
Nick fell quiet for a while, then he said: „Maybe it’ll get better with the new flavor. You know, they’re making Coconut Joy.“
„I know.“
Arthur didn’t really believe in it, because why should anything turn out as promised? But he didn’t want to ruin Nick’s mood, so he only told him to follow him. Nick obeyed while he continued to look around with huge curiosity. They made slow progress, because Nick stopped by every plant he found interesting and asked Arthur about it. When he noticed that his lover was merely a walking encyclopedia, it was even more fun. Arthur himself didn’t mind answering all these questions. If anything, he was glad that someone was actually interested in all the knowledge he had collected as a downer, and even admired him for it.
„How do you know all this?“, Nick blurted out after a while.
Arthur shrugged meekly.
„Some things I remember and some I’ve learned. It’s not too hard to learn when your life depends on it.“
Arthurs expression turned absent.
„I’ve been living here, you know? In the past, when this had been an intact part of the town.“
He paused, getting lost in the blurry images of his memory.
„Here, in this district?“, Nick asked blankly.
„It wasn’t the Garden District back then,“ Arthur whispered.
Nick looked around, wondering where this part of town had gone now.
„Do you remember where your house is?“, he asked in excitement and now Arthur looked at him.
He had never considered coming back, not even after visiting the old playground he and Sally had used to meet. He was sure that in his old home, only sad memories waited for him. The sort that kept haunting his mind anyway, so why bother? As an answer to Nick’s question, he only shook his head in silence.
„Wanna try to find it?“, Nick asked, but Arthur only gave a sigh.
„What?“
„I’m glad I don’t remember where it is. I don’t want to go back.“
Nick didn’t want to give up yet.
„Maybe it’s not as bad as you remember. The past can be surprising.“
Arthur only laughed bitterly.
„Trust me, I know my past much better than I want to.“
He looked so sad that Nick couldn’t help but wrap his arms around him and squeeze him tightly. Arthur let it happen. He clung to Nick.
After a while Nick looked Arthur in the eyes again.
„I’d still like to see the town“, he whispered.
Arthur pondered it. He couldn’t blame Nick for his curiosity after all.
„We have to be really careful,“ he said with emphasis.
„Especially you, Nick. Please do as I say since I have to protect you and you don’t know this place as good as me.“
„No problem, I’ll be good,“ Nick promised and smiled.
„And don’t even think about introducing yourself to anyone,“ Arthur added, causing Nick to protest.
„Hey, don’t be ridiculous. I can be unsuspicious when I have to.“
With that being said, Arthur guessed they could only try.
„Alright, there goes nothing,“ he said and sighed again. „But only from the distance, and we won’t stay long.“
„Okay“, Nick agreed, nodded and gave him an innocent look.
He liked it to have Arthur as his protector. It suited him well.
After a while they seemed to come closer to the residences, because they saw people walking around, maybe taking a stroll. Arthur’s tension grew, also because they had to hide in the bushes over and over again. In fact, now he wished he had refused. Or at least insisted that they got ripped clothes first. But for some reason he couldn’t say ‚no‘ to Nick, who still looked so happy and carefree, as if all this was just some big fun. Arthur had to admit he was also cute like this, and he didn’t want him to feel how dangerous this place really was. And he could comfort himself with the thought that they at least won’t meet Plaquies here.
„Why do they all look so worn out?“, Nick suddenly ripped Arthur out of his thoughts.
„Because there are no shops here,“ Arthur deadpanned.
„And why is that?“
„Ssshh…You’ll see soon enough. Now come, but quietly.“
Nick silenced and obeyed, so they sneaked through the high grass and climbed a hill. From there, they could see it: the remnants of a town, ruins in different shapes, old and damaged roads and a park that was flooded with rambling weeds. No one had repaired any of this for years. It was a cheerless sight, even for Nick, who’s eyes were manipulated by Joy. He found it didn’t even fit into the beautiful garden. For a while he only stared with his mouth open, then he asked: „Is this like…everywhere?“
When Arthur confirmed, he went on: „Why don’t they fix anything?“
This question was familiar to Arthur. He had wondered about it too. Why did no one try to recreate a more or less functioning community in this place? Why didn’t they try to grow plants, fruits, vegetables, anything edible? He had a guess.
„Because they are sad.“
Nick furrowed his brows.
„Can’t we cheer them up?“
„How?“
Nick thought about it.
They silenced again and looked at the ruins that seemed to be leftovers from another world.
„Coconut Joy“, Nick whispered. „That should help.“
Arthur didn’t answer anything. He didn’t want to crush Nick’s hopes. Admittedly, a tiny bit of hope was left in himself too.
„Do you want to see more?“, he instead asked and Nick pondered it.
„How many are they?“
„A lot, I guess. They are scattered all over the garden.“
Nick could now imagine why Arthur didn’t want to see his old home like this.
„I’ve seen enough“, he decided. „Let’s go somewhere more pleasant.“
Arthur had been waiting for this sentence since forever.
„You’ll like it,“ he promised and led Nick down the hill again.
The ground was stony and even though Nick made an effort to accurately follow Arthur’s footsteps he misstepped once and it was enough to lose his balance. Arthur tried to grab him, but it was too late. With a surprised outcry he slipped down the hill and landed on it’s foot with a bump.
„Nick, are you okay?“, Arthur yelled without thinking twice.
The other man winded. He felt slightly disoriented.
„I guess so,“ he cried back.
Then he jumped, because his eyes met someone who was dressed in old, ripped clothes. He walked around the hill and came closer.
„Nice rags,“ he rasped, without a salute and without sounding any friendly.
Nick as a Wellie still tried it the friendly way.
„Thanks mate,“ he said with a forced smile.
The other man only cast a hungry glance at him and answered: „Would look good on me too.“
He made Nick stumble backwards.
„Hey, if you want me to take my clothes off you should be nicer,“ he tried.
The wastrel still kept his unsettling expression. In addition, he suddenly pulled out a bat.
„Take them off.“
„No, don’t…“, Nick stuttered and kept stumbling backwards. „Arthur! Help me!“
Arthur hurried to get down to him and when he finally reached solid ground the Wastrel didn’t see him coming. He jumped at his throat and pressed his arm around it with all the energy he had left. In shock, the wastrel let go of the bat and tried to fight off the downer but he was pressed onto him as firm as a vice. After fighting without results for a while, his strength finally left him. Nick could see how his face turned blue and how he slumped down into the grass.
„Is he dead?“, Nick bursted out.
„No, only unconscious,“ Arthur said gasping and wiping the dirt from his suit. „You see now why it’s dangerous?“
Nick took a last look at the wastrel before he turned to Arthur.
„Seems like I’m completely lost without you.“
He took Arthur’s hands and placed an elegant kiss on them, causing Arthur’s face to glow red. He was sure he was now shining brighter than the Nonsuches at night.
„It’s nothing special, really. If you’d live here you could do that too,“ he said meekly.
Nick thought he was too humble again.
„You are special,“ he said with emphasis and kissed him again. „I’m glad that I have you to guide me.“
„Then…let’s go…“, Arthur stuttered while he melted away.
„Can I hold your hand this time? Not that I fall again,“ Nick asked with a voice like silk.
Arthur feared he couldn’t walk straightforward with Nick’s hand in his, but of course he agreed. He felt like he was floating when they continued their stroll. Gently pressing the other man’s hand he made sure he was still there and he looked into these green eyes he’ll never grow tired to marvel at.
Also Nick had changed. He enjoyed it all in silence, eyeing the landscape as well as his companion. Arthur led him through a little forest, where the leaves rustled quietly. It was downright magical. Nick was sure that in town the leaves were silent. Or it was too loud to hear them. Arthur was worried at first, because his lover didn’t say anything, as if he was more upset than he admitted to be, or in another way unhappy. But every time he glanced at him his lover looked completely relaxed and pleased, so with time Arthur got used to it and started to feel better too. He even felt closer to Nick than before and he hoped that the place he had chosen for them was as beautiful as Arthur imagined it to be. He himself had never payed much attention to it before, but now it didn’t leave his mind and he hoped Nick would understand why.
After following the path through the forest the canopy of leaves suddenly opened and gave way to a wide blue horizon, where the light blue sky melted into the darker color of the ocean that sparkled brightly in the sunlight. Nick gasped when he saw it. They reached the cliff that created the insuperable border between the town and Great Britain and were greeted by the wind that brought salty air from the seawater. From here, Arthur caught a glimpse of freedom. For him, this place had something sad about it too and he was glad not to be alone right now.
„It’s beautiful,“ Nick blurted out and Arthur gave a sheepish smile. He squeezed Nick’s hand again because he wasn’t able to say a word. Nick felt the touch and turned around, finding that the other man’s smiling face was way more attractive than the ocean. He lifted a hand to turn Arthur’s head and gave him a kiss that his lover eagerly returned. He was way more secure than before and Nick was keen on letting him do as he pleased. He felt his hands greedily roam every spot on his body he could reach and his fingers pull at his clothes. Nick laid his hands on Arthur’s chest and stroked along the buttons of his jacket. Arthur accepted the invitation and shortly after, they both had their upper bodies exposed. Nick couldn’t resist to bite into the other man’s delicate skin. Arthur gave a loud moan at that and pulled Nick’s hair. Entangled like this, they fell into the grass, where they tossed and turned.
It was the second time that Nick heard Arthur’s joyful laughter. When they stopped, Arthur lied on top of Nick and pressed him down with a kiss. Nick liked how the stalks tickled on his skin. He grabbed Arthur’s belt and his lover didn’t hesitate to do the same. This time it was Nick who winded with pleasure and he curled his fingers into the ground, pulling out little clumps of grass. He had been waiting for this all day and he couldn’t handle it much longer. When he came, Arthur followed him shortly after.
Completely exhausted, they stayed down, gasping for air.
Arthur cuddled into Nick and his lover responded with wrapping his arms around him.
For a long time they were silent, until Arthur sighed: „I’m so glad I met you.“
„That what I was about to say,“ Nick replied and nudged Arthurs nose with his finger. The other man gave a grin before he turned serious again.
„Really, you’re special.“
„You too,“ Nick insisted.
„I mean, I couldn’t bring anyone else here. They couldn’t handle to see the ruins. Or their residents. But you…“
„I guess I’m…unconventional.“
There was another pause before Arthur whispered: „You never tried to kill me.“
It made a shiver run down Nick’s spine.
Because he didn’t say anything, Arthur asked: „Did you think about it?“
„No…no way! I thought you’ll attack me, but instead you made me tea.“ Nick shook his head. „You’re unconventional too.“
„And you helped me,“ Arthur added.
„I couldn’t say ‚no‘ to you. I couldn’t even stop thinking about you after we met.“
Nick gulped. There was something he had to ask.
„Did I go on your nerves?“
Arthur gently squeezed him.
„You did everything right. I kept thinking about you too. I just didn’t know why.“
„So..do you love me because or although I tried to kiss you?“
Arthur chuckled quietly.
„It’s neither. I couldn’t get you out of my head also before you moved into the underground. I only noticed it when you left.“
Nick searched for the right words, because he felt guilty for overwhelming and abandoning him. But before he could answer, Arthur rolled around to lock gazes with him.
„Running away from you was a big mistake,“ he said, wiping a hair strand out of Nick’s face. „And I nearly ruined it all.“
Nick tried to protest but Arthur put a finger on his lips.
„I’ll never run from you again,“ he whispered and pressed his lips on Nick’s. Soon, they were entangled again.
Time went by. When the evening came it turned colder, so they put their clothes back on and watched the waves roll, while the sun was sinking. Arthur looked forward to the sunset. It had been long ago since he had cared enough to watch one, but with Nick at his side he knew it would be wonderful.
Nick however regretted that he didn’t bring his guitar. This could have been the perfect atmosphere for a romantic song. Aside from that, he couldn’t stay.
„Arthur,“ he said, putting his hand on the other man’s shoulder, who looked so happy and relaxed that he felt even more sorry.
„I’d love to stay much longer but…I’m afraid I must go.“
Arthur’s jaw dropped.
„But the sun is about to set. Please stay for another minute,“ he pleaded and Nick hated that he had to refuse.
„I’m sorry, but I have to be back before curfew.“
Arthur gave a sad sigh.
„We catch up on it later, I promise,“ Nick tried to comfort him.
„I’ll remind you,“ Arthur said and the corner of his mouth was twitching a little.
They slowly left the cliff and went back trough the forest. This time Nick laid his arm around Arthur’s hips. Shivering a little, Arthur did the same. While they walked he was bothered by a question that refused to leave his head since it had popped up. After a while he gave up the fight and said it out loud.
„Why do you have to be back so soon? No one will see us when we use the tunnel.“
Nick shortly thought about it.
„I need to see my manager,“ he lied. „It’s about my new album.“
Arthur immediately regretted his stupid question.
„So…you’re back into business, huh?“, he said helplessly, noticing he had forgotten who he was actually spending time with.
„You bet,“ Nick replied proudly. „This is my big chance, you know?“
„I see…I’m sorry I forgot,“ Arthur stuttered. „It’s still strange sometimes…you’re the greatest star in town, and you’re with me.“
Nick beamed.
„Aww, stop it you!“, he waved him off and laughed. „Seriously I don’t spoil you enough. I could take you again, right here under the trees, but I’m afraid I have to save this for later.“
„Hey, don’t tease me like that!“
„I’m always teasing“, Nick replied and winked at him.
Arthur sighed in fake despair.
„I won’t survive this.“
„But you won’t regret anything.“
They laughed and kept chatting nonsense until they reached the part where they had to say goodbye. They started with more kisses and then Nick had to stop himself.
„Thank you for this wonderful trip,“ he finally said and he meant it. „Until today I didn’t know how pretty this world really is.“
He was happy to see that Arthur was still smiling.
„Good luck with your album,“ he returned.
„Thank you, sweetie,“ Nick answered and nudged the tip of Arthur’s nose.
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𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐒! 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧! 𝐰. 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s Halloween, ladies and gentlemen. Our beloved and most (in)famous killer is off the leash, ready to start a killing spree just when you decided to celebrate halloween in a provocative angel costume. What you’ll read next is the result of years locked up in a psychiatric hospital without someone who could help Michael with his needs.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7801
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: language, oral, smut (or something close to that lol)
𝐚/𝐧: I don't know how the law works where you live, but let's keep it legal. Also, it took me forever to write this, beware the grammar mistakes and the writing. Enjoy it!
You felt like you were going to pass out any time soon at this point. Since you found Cindy's body upstairs, you could hear the man's steps around the house cracking sounds on the wooden floor with every step being enough to get your legs failing from all the tension. You struggled to keep a steady heartbeat as well as your breathing, expecting the murderer to jump at you any moment now and end your life.
It was Halloween night. You could feel something was off when your friends invited you to the abandoned house around the block. You cursed yourself for not listening to your intuition before and now the devil was out in a hunt for the angel. It seems that you were out of luck, the small wings on your white dress could get you nowhere or you would've jumped out of the window already to escape the infamous Haddonfield killer — Michael Myers.
It has been a moment since you last heard his pace on the corridor. Carefully, you check to see if there's anyone out there and once you were sure it is clear your legs made one last effort to get to the other side of the house, hoping it could be your escape route. However, your luck didn't last long. Michael stood in the room with a dead body on the bed, not taken aback when you dashed in front of him, almost like he was waiting for this. You let out a short scream before running into another room. Not disposing of enough time to find an excellent spot for hiding, the bed would have to do and it was the quickest option that you had at the time.
Beneath the mattress, you had no strength left as your heart wanted to explode inside your chest, apparently. You were sure that if you didn't die by Myers' hands tonight you would certainly die from a heart attack due to all the scary shit you've been through so far. Thinking of any prayers you had left in your mind, the sight of black boots on the door brought you back from your thoughts. It took Michael a couple seconds to kneel down in front of your hiding spot, causing your whole body freeze. Your first instinct sent you crawling away from Michael.
Michael stood up, mimicking your movement, and his towering height disturbing your poor heart even more. He seemed curious about your next step. His cold eyes beneath the mask, unknown to you, sparkled with a quite familiar feeling to him, a blurry image tickling in the back of his brain, causing the man an unwanted reaction. His gaze followed you until you hit the back of the wall, allowing him to advance towards you. Frightened, you pushed yourself on top of the mattress in order to escape through the door but Michael's hand were fast enough to catch you before you could even breath in relief.
His strong hand let go of his knife, pushing your body against the mattress, fingers tangled with your messy hair as his other hand landed dangerously on the curve of your hips. Michael's eyes caught the newly revealed skin and his fingers so pleased pushed your dress even upper to give the man full sight of your bum. He seemed pleased as he heavily laid his hand on your ass, squeezing it before groaning with desire. You fought to escape from his grip, but it was foolish of you to believe you can outdo the man and his force.
Michael turned you around, now facing each other, so close he could feel your erratic breath against his mask. His eyes traveled through your body along with his own hand, amazed by the female presence that was sufficient to drag him out of his character. Michael's fingers brushed lightly against your covered nipple causing you to arch your back just enough for him to notice it. Then, he pinched and played with your nipples, squeezing the softness around them and feeling the smooth, cold fabric of your dress. Your hands tugged his blue mechanic suit and your legs parted slightly, inviting Michael to bring himself even closer to you. As he touched your sensitive nipples, you could feel your underwear soaked in warm wetness caused by Michael. You moaned when you felt his fingers traveling south and teasing your folds.
He pushed two thick, calloused fingers into your cunt. Michael took his time to slowly drag his fingers out before pushing even further into your tight pussy. You opened your legs even wider, the man fingering you even deeper. The adrenaline, fear and arousal turned into a delicious mess inside you — and Michael knew it. You coated his fingers in cum, his fingers touching just the right spot inside your pussy that made your walls clench and sent you to heaven. Michael's fingers went to your mouth, which you gladly open to taste the sweetness from your cum. When you swallowed up to his knuckles, you saw his eyes getting even darker in lust, the man groaned. He has been so kind to you, allowing you to cum and take pleasure from his fingers... The least you could do was to pay him back.
Licking your lips, your hands released from the suit his hard, huge cock. Once you got closer to his member, Michael quickly grabbed your hair, wary and stiff, but he relaxed as he felt the warmth of your breath on his cock. You closed your lips around his smooth member, flicking your tongue around the sensitive head before swallowing him deep. Michael moaned loudly as you continued to work on his shaft, surprised by how sensitive he was to your touches. When he pulled out, a thin string of saliva followed before wetting your chin. You seemed frustrated that he didn't finish in your mouth, but the man has been all self control the entire night. He wanted no more than to rip your dress off and fuck you senseless, especially making you choke on his cock and gag with his cum, but he did intend to make you choke in other ways as the night wasn't over yet.
Michael positioned himself, brushing his cock slightly against your clit before entering your wet cunt. Your walls stretched around him, feeling so painfully full. You should've guessed that with a big man comes a big cock before putting it into your mouth. Eager to fill you up, Michael dragged his cock out of your pussy before slamming it into you, merciless. It was the most delicious pain you've ever had, his cock hitting your limits, causing some pressure that led you closer to cumming. You dug your nails into his shoulders, your walls clenching around his cock as you came hard. You tried to hold back the moans, but Michael worked so well inside you. The man also didn't seem to care about keeping it quiet, he let out guttural noises as he pounded harshly onto you.
Closer to his own limit, Michael clenched his fist around your neck, losing control of his own pace inside you. He continued to fuck you senseless, tightening the grip dangerously as he climbed higher in his climax. You could barely breath. Your hands tugged on his clothes, desperately seeking both releases. His eyes didn't leave you any second, aroused by the image of his strong hand choking his victim. He let out the dirtiest moan, spilling his hot seed inside your cunt.
You gasped heavily, taking as much air as you could. You both panted after the heavy sex making session. Michael slowly brushed his fingers around the marks on your neck, seeming pleased with his own work. You brought him closer and kissed his mask where the lips are supposed to be. He welcomed the gesture, squeezing your tight before pulling back.
He adjusted his clothes and took the chance to leave. You felt almost as if you went to heaven twice, taken there by Michael himself. Oh, but Michael certainly knew the angel you are, otherwise he wouldn't have been so generous to you that night. Alone in the room, you wish he hadn't left, especially not after what happened. But what did you expect? He was Michael Myers after all. You just hoped you would see him again next Halloween, although you weren't sure if you'd have the same luck next time.
#okay the ending is shitty but it's been sitting on my drafts forever and i needed to post it ncksmxka#michael myers oneshot#michael myers#slashers#michael myers fanfic#slashers oneshot#michael myers imagine#michael myers imagines
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TITLE: We Got Drunk In A Haunted Asylum
word count: 2.694 rating: T fandom: BuzzF. Uns. relationship: Ryan B./Shane M. summary: Ryan only agreed to do this video, because everyone told him the alcohol would make him feel brave, and he'd want to punch the ghosts in the face, and it would be really funny, people would love it.
In reality, it just made everything worse.
author’s note: i’m pretty sure this was either based on a prompt i saw over at @shyanlibrary or it was a conversation between people on my dash, i honestly don’t remember it’s been so long since i actually started this.
[READ ON AO3]
or read more here
”In today’s video, we’re going to spend the night in the Hollydale Mental Hospital, while drunk.” Shane and Ryan were both sitting in foldable chairs in front of a camera, one six-pack beer in both of their hands. ”You may ask, why? Well, why not?” Shane shrugged, nonchalant. Like getting drunk in a maybe (probably) haunted place was the most natural thing.
The video started, it was just the two of them, left to their own devices. The others were ready to pack up and leave in the next hour or so.
They slipped into their natural banter immediately, it was even easier to forget about the camera running. It just felt like some of their usual drinking nights, somehow rarely running out subjects, and if they did, the silence was comfortable, not awkward.
Ryan already felt pretty drunk, he was down to his last unopened drink, Shane was doing a little better, he still had three left, but he definitely seemed buzzed already.
He said even weirder shit than he did sober, and Ryan laughed even harder at them until his stomach hurt. Ryan didn’t even remember why he was so opposed to making this video. While the idea itself is pretty dumb, Shane insisted seeing how Ryan would react something spooky while drunk. Both of them expected him to turn into a mini-Shane, screaming at the ghosts to fight him, and rip out his spine, or something ridiculous like that. And Ryan had to admit, he was curious too, how the alcohol would affect his braveness.
He didn’t have to wait too long.
A sharp bang echoed through the empty room next to theirs, like someone smashed a big rock against the floor, scattering debris all around the cement. Ryan let out a yelp, stumbling backward. The back of his head bumped into Shane's chest, and at the same time, a quiet little whimper hit his left ear. What the fuck.
Ryan immediately tensed up, he rushed to take two more steps back, fully pressing himself against Shane this time, he didn’t even care. He grabbed his friend's arm instinctively, desperately trying to ground himself. That’s something he may be embarrassed about later.
"Hey, Ryan, it's okay. It was just a rat, or an owl or something. I bet there is a lot of those here."
"N– no that wasn't a fucking bat! I heard something right beside me, I swear!" Ryan's grip tightened on Shane’s arm, nails digging into his shirt and gently piercing into his skin. He scanned the room frantically, but couldn’t see anything out of place in the dim lighting.
"It could've been me. Relax, little buddy!" Okay. Yeah. He's right, It could've been Shane. Alright. Nothing is there. It's fine, Ryan.
Just as the thoughts formed in his head, a small rock came tumbling down the concrete stairs to their left, every little thud echoed through the empty room, until it stopped at the bottom, eerily still. Like it got caught on something.
Ryan was properly freaking out now, shaking and gripping Shane's lower arm with such force, his friend quietly hissed.
"Ryan, calm down! There is nothing there. Ghosts aren't real." he said, tone gentle, it’s the one he usually used to calm his friend down.
"No no no, there– things like this, these don't just happen, dude" Ryan cut his rambling off as his breath hitched. His lungs couldn’t fill up properly, no matter how many times he tried. It feels like he's choking. Like icy, pale hands wrapping around his throat, trying to choke him to death.
He can't breathe.
He will die, holy shit he will die.
No. He needs to calm the fuck down. Ryan let go of Shane’s arm and screwed his eyes shut, somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of Shane calling his name. Calm down, calm down, calm down. You’re just drunk, Bergara.
He still got no air, when he opened his eyes, his vision was blurry and tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He made a useless attempt at taking a shaky breath, chest painfully constructing. It just amplified the ever-present pressure on his chest. OK not good, not good.
It's a ghost.
It has to be a ghost.
Or worse, a demon.
He has done his research, the little shits do this.
And they will strangle him, he's sure of it.
Ryan blinks away the tears, trying to see clearly, but his vision was surrounded by a border of inky darkness. It’s like the demons were closing in on him. If he looked more closely, they had eyes too. Hard to make out, but they were there. He made a sound at the back of his throat, averting his eyes, so he doesn’t have to look at them. Instead, he stared at the filth around them and the beer bottles. He counted them, multiple times in his head. One, two, three, calm down, calm down.
Four, five, six, breathe.
Ryan heard a quiet murmur, but he couldn’t quite make out any words. It was pretty soothing though.
Seven, you’re safe.
"Ryan, you’re safe. I’m here.”
The murmur, Shane's voice faintly breaks through his intrusive thoughts, it feels like he's underwater. Every sound is distant, except the loud, constant buzzing in his ears. It made his brain hurt. And then someone or something touched his shoulder, and he yelled, blindly swatting before recoiling. He wrapped his arms around himself, fear and panic bubbling up in his stomach again.
"OK, no touching, got it. Listen- Look at me, Ryan." Shane's voice finally reached him, still pretty faint, but he actually understood the words this time.
Shane.
He's there.
He won't let anything hurt him.
They locked eyes, Ryan's teary-eyed gaze was still panicked, his whole body was shaking uncontrollably.
"Breathe with me. Slow and steady. Do you understand?" Shane says slowly, voice wavering slightly and he starts guiding Ryan, who joins in a few seconds later. ”That’s it, you’re doing great!”
The pain in his lungs slowly drifts away, filling it with air. Dirty, asylum air, but for Ryan, at that moment it was the best fucking air he ever tasted. He's okay. He's okay.
They stayed like that, several minutes passing by, Ryan ended up sitting on the ground, and Shane kneeling in front of him while his friend gulped for air, shivering violently. Ryan felt sick, and a little dazed, like someone had hit him in the head. His throat was impossibly dry and raw, too, he would've killed for some water.
"Shane…" it came out more raspy and quiet than he intended to, but Shane's attention was already on him anyway. Now that Ryan's eyes focused on things properly, he took a look at his friend, who seemed just as terrified. He never saw Shane like that before. All wide, worried eyes and shaking hands, lifted up, itching to touch Ryan, but not wanting to scare him again. It was an awful sight and Ryan immediately felt guilty, so without thinking, he grabbed Shane’s hand.
Trembling fingers slipping around each other, looking for leverage and comfort. Both of their drunken haze was long gone by the panic attack, leaving nothing behind but pure exhaustion and the beginning of a dull headache. Ryan never sobered up so quickly in his goddamn life. He closed his eyes for a moment, and God, he could fall asleep right there if the images he saw wouldn’t haunt their mind.
"You good now? Can you stand?" Ryan nodded his head and looked up at Shane, who hauled him up, and put his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, to support his balance. Ryan wasn't protesting, silently grateful for the help. His legs felt like jelly, unable to keep him up properly.
"Let's get out of here."
When they were standing in front of the building, Ryan took a deep breath of fresh air and it burned his lungs a little, but it felt so good.
It meant he was alive.
He’s been holding the sleeve of Shane's jacket since Shane helped him up and Shane let him, without batting an eye. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Feeling the rough fabric between his fingers kept his mind clear, it made him feel real. He could be more brave, knowing Shane was there with him. If demons were gonna fuck with Ryan, they'd have to know he and Shane are a package deal.
"Everything alright?" TJ approached them, while two other crew members disappeared into the building, to get the chairs and empty bottles.
"I need some water," Ryan said and cleared his throat to make the raspiness go away. He thanked TJ when he handed him a full bottle and chugged at least half the thing in a minute. TJ gently patted him in the back, Ryan felt the warmness of his hand even through his shirt.
He was alive.
Back in the hotel, Ryan flopped down on his bed, exhausted. He just wanted to sleep. The hotel’s energy was so much lighter than the mental hospital’s, he noted. He didn’t see the ghosts, demons whatever they were, anymore when he shut his eyes either. That heavy feeling Ryan started drifting off to sleep, Shane was having none of that, though.
"Get up, and take a shower, man. You can't just sleep in full gear and filthy." He tugged on Ryan's arm, who let out a whine he will be embarrassed about later. No way he’s leaving this bed for several hours.
"M'tired."
"You can sleep after. Come on, shower! You’ll feel better." He added softly, squeezing Ryan's arm encouragingly.
"Fuck you." Ryan huffed, no annoyance in his voice, and got up anyway. He felt gross, and honestly, he was gross. All sweaty and dusty, both from the panic attack and the asylum’s floor. Why did they even agree to this? He should've known that's how he'll react with the alcohol. It was stupid and the video is completely ruined now. They can’t publish him freaking out like a baby, and Shane looking so panicked himself. Ryan never wants to see him like that again.
Why does he have to freak out all the time? I mean sure, people love to watch him scream, but this wasn’t funny in the slightest. Maybe they could go back tomorrow, redo the whole thing. Ryan hated the idea of stepping one foot in that place again, but he knew, he had to take one for the team.
He quickly finished the shower, actually feeling much better than ten minutes earlier. Of course, Shane didn’t need to know that. By the time he got dressed, Shane slipped into the bathroom, to clean himself off too. Ryan faceplanted one of the beds, only being aware of the fact that it was the one Shane laid on while waiting for him after getting a whiff of his deodorant.
Maybe, he should move, the other bed is just two big steps away, it wasn’t really that much effort. Ryan groaned, and buried his face into the pillow, breathing in Shane’s left-over scent. Yeah, okay, he doesn’t wanna move anyway.
The walls were thin, so he could hear the sound of the water spraying from the bathroom, Ryan’s brain provided him with images of what Shane looks and might look like naked. He groaned because it wasn’t something he wanted to deal with right now. It was for nights when he was a little too hyper or they were at a location, and sleep wouldn’t come. So he’d stare at his bedroom walls, or the silhouette of Shane in the sleeping bag and allow his mind to wander.
To think about how it would feel like to slide closer to Shane and have his stupid long arms wrap around him. It would probably make him feel safe and he could have a good night’s sleep at a location for once. Shane’s very presence calms him down, usually. Ryan would tip his head back though, to look at him. And just like that, they’d be kissing.
It was always an initial shock, to wake up from that daydream, sometimes it felt so real it left Ryan’s chest aching. Like he was just ripped out of that reality, and thrown back into this one. Even after months of pining, it hurt just the same.
He never did anything about it, the fear of ruining their bond loomed over his head every time Ryan felt like he was finally ready to tell Shane.
Ryan was certain he was already half-asleep, but then the bed dipped right next to him, like someone, something was sitting next to him, and suddenly he was wide awake. He bolted upright, ready to sprint out of bed and the whole room if it was some demon that followed him home, but he came face-to-face with Shane. Oh.
”It’s just me!” Shane held up his open palms in front of him to assure Ryan he’s harmless. His face was pinched into a worried expression. ”I thought you were sleeping. Wanted to put some blankets on you, it gets chilly here.”
”Oh, alright. Thanks. This is your bed, sorry.”
”It’s fine, Ry. Are you okay?”
”Yeah. It was the alcohol, and I got scared. Just– don’t worry about it, alright?” Ryan tries to shrug it off. He’s a little cranky because Shane disturbed him drifting off. Not to mention the daydreaming about kissing him. He felt vulnerable like Shane could see right through him.
”But I am worried about it.”
”Why, Shane? Why do you care so much?” Ryan finally looked up, already regretting his words coming out so harshly. It’s not Shane’s fault, none of this is.
Shane was frowning, but that fear Ryan saw earlier was in his eyes again. He looked like shit too, just as tired as Ryan felt.
”Not to make this about myself, you know I wouldn’t, but I was fucking terrified, seeing you like that. And I just want to make sure you’re okay, and you won’t get a heart attack or something while I’m sleeping three feet away from you because I’m not sure how I’d survive that.”
Ryan’s irritation immediately dissolved, feeling brave, stupid or simply sleep-deprived, he put his hand over Shane’s on the cover. ”I’m fine, I promise.”
Shane exhaled, shakily and stared at their hands, Ryan expected him to pull away. Instead, Shane turned his hand around and gently squeezed Ryan’s. Suddenly he felt a lot less sleepy. Maybe it’s time to take the first step. Maybe the universe gave him a sign in that fucking piece of rock. Ryan would be a fool not to take it. And if Shane will reject him, well, tomorrow-Ryan will deal with that.
They were already sitting pretty close to each other, so Ryan didn’t need to strain himself too much to lean in, and press his lips against Shane’s mouth. The angle was a little awkward and he felt Shane tensing up, so he got ready to be pushed back. Shane didn’t push him away, instead one of his big hands ruffled up Ryan’s hair on the back of his head, pulling him even closers, and pressing back against him.
Ryan’s stomach did a flip, and Shane slightly pulled on his hair, probably not even on purpose, but it made him gasp regardless.
They were just looking at each other now, a little too close, both breathing heavily. Shane was the one who spoke first, softly, not wanting to disturb whatever’s hanging in the air between them.
”So, are we a thing now?” Ryan had the audacity to snort.
”We could be a thing. Do you want us to be?”
”I very much would like us to be a thing.” Shane was grinning now, and apparently, it’s infectious, because Ryan found himself doing the same.
And then they were kissing again, knocking their teeth together a few times and they both laughed, which really only resulted in it happening more often. They could talk about what ’the thing’ means tomorrow while having a coffee and maybe some breakfast too, that sounded nice.
#shyan#skeptic believer#shyan fic#fanfiction#my fanfiction#it was just sitting on my laptop collecting dust#so i thought i'd finish it#not my best work tho#but#¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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could you do a fic where jemma comes to grips with fitz's death? I saw spoilers that she is living in a sort of denial cause fitz still lives in the present.
Hey anon! Okay, so this one got away from me. The entire fic is below the cut, but I want to preface this by stating it gets really really really sad. You were warned. Hope you like it!
Jemma squeezed her eyes shut as they docked aboard the Chronicom vessel, their own ship groaning and jolting as it clung to the larger vessel. Around her, the team was getting their gear ready and preparing to face whatever awaited them aboard Enoch’s hidden ship. Although the eccentric Chronicom was friends with them from their standpoint, those events had occurred in a future that now never existed in the current timeline. Because of this, there was no telling what defenses or traps that lay ahead of them as they scoured the ship for Fitz.
Fitz.
Jemma kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, trying to will away the emotions that threatened to overtake her. He’s still alive, he’s still alive, he’s still alive, she kept repeating over and over as her heart clenched involuntarily. Beside her, Daisy placed a soft hand on her shoulder. Finally relenting, Jemma opened her eyes to see her friend looking at her with a mixture of sympathy and determination. In that moment, she looked like the bright-eyed hopeful hacker that Jemma first knew all those years ago.
“Hey.” The Inhuman said carefully. “We’re going to find him. We’re not leaving here until we do.” Jemma reached up and placed her hand over Daisy’s and smiled, though it felt forced and empty, like she was looking at the future she almost lost.
“I know.” She said, trying to bring all her own determination and will to the forefront. Off to the far right, Mack was loading rounds into his shotgun-axe and Piper was making sure the ship was fully docked. A surge of affection for each of them, the brave individuals who followed her without question to rescue one of their own. It was enough to make small tears form in the corners of her eyes, betraying the strength she was trying to portray. “Thank you.” Jemma said genuinely to Daisy.
Her friend grinned crookedly. “As if you could’ve stopped me. I’ve been shipping the two of you since day one. No way a silly thing like space is going to keep the two of you apart.” Images rushed unbidden into Jemma’s mind.
Fitz looking down at her from their position on the couch, her fingers interlaced with his and his eyes sparkling with that light that Jemma knew would always make her own heart skip a beat, decades into any future.
“Who needs space?” Fitz asks, grinning the way he always did when something clever popped into his head. “’Cause I’ve got something magnificent right here.”
Okay, maybe not so clever. Cheesy, even. But it made Jemma’s smile widen even more regardless, and caused her heart to beat quicker. She tilted her head slightly, taking in for a moment the incredible man she fell in love with. Both of them had gone through so much, and she was so very tired of wasting any more time. Leaning forward, Jemma’s eyes lowered to his lips and began to close her own when he instead pointed to something on the wall.
“A picture of space.” A slight beat and Jemma couldn’t help but let out a laugh, shaking her head at the ridiculous, beautiful man next to her. “One of my most prized possessions, that is. I don’t know why it makes any significance –mmph.” The rest of his words were muffled by Jemma’s laughter and her insistent lips pressed against his own. Breaths of contentment escaped both of them as they settled deeper into each other’s embrace.
Jemma snapped out of her memory to an aching in her chest, like someone had taken a piece of her heart and ripped it away. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, she repeated in her head, her own hopeful mantra. With great effort, Jemma managed to push the feelings down and smile convincingly to Daisy’s words. As she stood and gathered her supplies, Jemma could not help but wonder how long she could keep this up.
The vessel, as it turned out, did have a few rudimentary security systems in place. While Mack and Yo-Yo took out the small turrets that lined the entrance hall, Daisy had somehow managed to hack into the advanced alien ship. They discovered one life form on board, which they immediately knew to be Fitz. The weight on her chest seemed to lessen slightly as they made their way into the heart of the vessel. Due to the many situations they had by now faced together, the group stayed in tight formation and cleared each corner with a swiftness and effectiveness that would have made May proud. Silently, Jemma wished her and the ailing Coulson well on their beach in Tahiti and hoped they had enough time together. The grief at Coulson’s soon-to-be demise nearly caused her to momentarily lose her focus, but Daisy’s quick movement ahead snapped Jemma back to reality.
After a few more moments traversing the halls and getting their bearings, the team made its way to the bridge of the ship, stopping once for Mack to silently wave signals and direct their movement. Another few moments, and suddenly they were face-to-face with Enoch, who looked no different from the one they had known in the future, despite being over seventy years younger.
The Chronicom did not show fear, nor anger and his vessel being boarded. In fact, he seemed almost resigned to the fact and waited patiently for the team to clear the rest of the bridge. “You have succeeded, then?” He asked once they were finished.
They quickly recapped the dystopian future that they had just returned from, and all the consequences that their actions had created. Enoch did not show any emotion to the news that he sacrificed himself in the future, merely looked like a professor would when a student said something mildly interesting. Once they were finished, Daisy began scanning the monitors on the bridge. Jemma had begun doing so as soon as they entered, not even bothering to check the rest of the bridge for traps or greet the past version of Enoch. Her eyes poured over the data that sprang across the holographic screens.
“Agent Fitz is no longer with us.”
The words did not register with Jemma immediately. She still scoured the bridge’s screens and noted the data that stated one life form was aboard. After a few moments, the silence was deafening. Turning, she saw that the team was looking at her with simultaneous worry and pity. Anger began to well up inside of her, filling the hole that existed in her heart. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, she mentally recited, almost like a prayer.
“What do you mean, ‘no longer with us’?” She asked dangerously, causing even Enoch to look worried. At least, as worried as a Chronicom was capable of looking. “The scanners say one life form is aboard apart from us. Fitz is the only other person on this ship. You said that Chronicoms are made of a synthetic plastic alloy, which means you wouldn’t register on a bio scan.”
Enoch exchanged a meaningful glance with Daisy, who blinked away tears as she seemed to understand what was going on. “This is a Chronicom ship, Jemma.” She said, placing a hand on her forehead as the rest of the team seemed to almost wither, realizing their mistaken assumption. “Their scanners count members of their own kind. If only one life scan is showing it has to be Enoch, and only Enoch.” A pause. “Fitz isn’t here.”
No.
Jemma shook her head. “No.” Anger and grief poured out in equal measure, while her mind continued to convince her this was all some sort of twisted nightmare. “No, that is notpossible. Fitz is supposed to be here.”
Enoch appeared sad for the first time. “He was on board until a few weeks ago.” With a gesture, images of blurry invading forces appeared on the security feeds. “I was calibrating the vessel in the engine room when I heard the commotion. By the time I arrived back on the bridge, I saw a small ship make a jump into hyperspace and my own vessel was damaged. I have spent the last few weeks repairing the damage and was in the midst of installing a new security system when you arrived. The ease that your team avoided the larger security measures still troubles -”
He was cut off by Jemma stepping forward. “I don’t care about your bloodysecurity system. Where –“ She stopped. All the events of their last few weeks in the future rushed back, coupled with all the hell that the team had endured over the past few years. Maybe it was all a lie. Maybe he was still here, after all. Daisy had been wrong before, after all. The scanners might have been tampered with, Enoch could be lying to protect his charge from alterations to the timeline, or he may have stashed Fitz somewhere the invading group would not have looked. Hope burst forth in her chest, maddening in its fervor and desperate beyond belief.
“No.” She said firmly. “No.” Without a backwards glance, Jemma suddenly dashed from the bridge, ignoring the cries of warning from the team. She was intent on searching every single inch of this damned ship. Fitz had to be here. He simply had to. As she ran, images began flashing in her mind.
A smiling Fitz and his curly hair, hefting a heavy box filled with lab equipment as they made their way towards the enormous plane. Something stirred in Jemma’s being as she watched him gush over the possible technical specifications of such a vessel, suppressing a giggle as he nearly tripped over the runway that led down from its interior. His sniff of embarrassment gave only a slight pause before he resumed his long-winded excitement. She felt a surge of fondness for her best friend as they finally entered the – their, she had to remind herself – lab. Jemma was ecstatic to begin their time with the legendary Agent Coulson and his special team.
A sudden sharp turn caused her to nearly bounce off the opposing wall due to her speed as she could hear Daisy and Mack calling for her from somewhere in the distance.
The fear that he might become infected with her contracted Chitauri virus spurred Jemma on as she hefted the fire extinguisher. She would do anything, absolutely anything, to avoid him sharing her fate. If she had to die, so be it, but she would be damned if Fitz had to suffer for her mistake.
“I’m so sorry.” She breathed as the fire extinguisher hits the back of her friend’s head, leaving him sprawling on the lab floor. She was sorry not just for what she was about to do, but for all the times that she would miss with him. Suddenly, she was grateful she never acted on her little crush on Fitz; it would have made what she was about to do next to impossible. Placing the extinguisher on the counter, Jemma pressed the button to the lab door and made for the back of the plane…
Each room the looked in was empty. Instead of increasing the hopelessness, the empty rooms seemed to fan her desperation as she continued to traverse the vessel, wary of setting off any of Enoch’s other security measures. It would not do to be killed only seconds away from seeing Fitz again.
Fear engulfed her as she stood by Trip and Agent Hand. Coulson and the rest of the team had landed in the Playground and were beset on all sides by HYDRA agents. The idea of Fitz being caught in the middle of a firefight was one she was desperately trying not to imagine, while the thought of him possibly being a double agent never even crossed her mind. He was Fitz, after all. Loyal, sweet, innocent Fitz. He could no more hurt the team or betray her than she could. As soon as she was able and Agent Hand allowed, Jemma ran to her best friend, thankful that he was still with her.
Jemma’s breathing became ragged, the sound of her pounding steps echoing off the empty hall. The fact it was empty began to annoy her at each passing moment. Where was he? He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, she repeated over and over as she continued on.
The shimmering light of the ocean danced on the wall behind him, almost capturing him in an ethereal light. Jemma, for the first time in a long while, could not form words as she replayed Fitz’s last statement. All she could do was reach out and hold him, trying to convey all the feeling she had for him into her touch. Jemma reached out and placed her hands on either side of his face, peppering him with kisses that seemed to become more and more desperate. While she was still unsure how she felt about his admission, Jemma knew deep down in her bones that she loved him, whether romantically or not. She loved him, and she did not want him to sacrifice himself for her.
“No,” She kept repeating, tears blurring her vision and choking her words. “No.” A final smile, and suddenly his hand shot downward faster than she could move.
As the water rushed in, all she could do was scream.
The sound of the team gaining on her position spurring Jemma on, not willing to be taken from her task. Fitz had to be here, he just had to be. The thought of coming all this way for nothing, only to be separated again, was unacceptable. She would notaccept that he was gone. Again.
Flashes of the year after the pod flooded in, the feelings of heartache and loneliness while undercover nearly overwhelming her. Jemma told herself it was the right thing, to separate herself from him so that he could recover properly. Still, a large part of her felt guilty for leaving him so suddenly. She had wanted to stay, to never leave his side again, but the facts were undisputable. As long as she remained, he would never get better. The realization that day, sitting at his hospital bed after the fourth week of therapy and him still unable to speak, had nearly hollowed out her spirit. They hadn’t been apart for this long since the Academy, and Jemma soon realized why. The world just…less without him. So she buried herself in her undercover work, hoping beyond hope that her sacrifice would mean Fitz would be well by the time she got back.
She was finally getting to the back of the ship where Enoch had said he was when the invading group struck. Fitz would have been fascinated by the design of the alien ship, but Jemma was less than impressed by it. All it seemed to be doing was keeping her from reuniting with him.
When she returned, things were worse than she could have ever imagined. Having Fitz unable to speak or remember her was one thing, but having him despise her was even worse. She told herself over and over the reasons why she left, but every interaction only made her doubt them even more. After months of cold indifference and increasing separation from her, Jemma was barely sleeping anymore. She had spent months making sense of what happened in the pod, and finally coming to grips with how she felt about him. Now, she was hesitant to show it, for fear of him thinking she was mocking him. It was madness, having these feelings unlocked and unable to do anything about it. Is this how Fitz felt all that time? Her heart fluttered every time he entered the room, and sank lower when he did not talk with her like they used to. None of it made sense, and she was not sure her emotions could take it. What horrible wrong had she committed in her life to make this be her fate?
Jemma paused in her frantic search, convinced now that she had already passed by this hallway. Frustration narrowed her vision, and she instead turned down a previously unknown hallway to the lower parts of the ship.
Slowly, over months and months, they managed to repair their friendship. It had taken far longer than she had ever anticipated, but Jemma was beyond happy that they were on good terms again. It felt like she could breathe again, and suddenly her days were not so morose. Then the bloody idiot decided he needed to be a hero again. After watching Hunter and Bobbi, Jemma knew that she had to say something. Anything. Keep him from going, if it came to it. She was determined, yet terrified that she might mess it up again. After initially stumbling over her words, Jemma finally was able to quietly voice the hope that seemed to soar in her chest. The look in Fitz’s eyes as he beheld her, vulnerable and clinging to his hand like he was a lifeline, was one of incredulity and…love. It was unmistakable, and she nearly sobbed in relief that it she hadn’t ruined them yet. The moment was shattered as Coulson entered and called Fitz away, leaving her alone once again and breathlessly worrying like she had for the past year.
When he finally returned, she was content to simply have him back. Their talk could wait until things returned to normal, and Jemma was determined not to rock the boat. Her surprise when he boldly asked her to dinner was almost palpable, but so was her joy. She watched as he awkwardly fiddled with the door to the obelisk, his nervousness making him all the more endearing and causing the corners of her lips to pull upward. The promise of a date made her spirit soar, and she couldn’t help a small but fierce grin when he left the room.
Then everything went black. Then blue.
The memories of Maveth nearly caused Jemma to pause, but she eventually continued on. Behind her, Daisy came into view and finally caught up with her.
“Jemma,” She said, panting. “Hold on, please.” Despite her drive forward, Jemma forced herself to pause.
“Don’t try to stop me, Daisy.” She said fiercely. “Fitz has to be here. He just has to.”
Her friend looked like she wanted to argue, but Jemma was genuinely surprised when the Inhuman nodded. “If you say he is, I believe you.” Tears of gratitude began to well up in Jemma’s eyes. “I’ve got your back.” Jemma did not know what to say.
Daisy wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “Well, what are we waiting for? Lets go get him.” With that, the pair continued on down the increasingly dark hallway.
Memories continued to fly unbidden into Jemma’s mind.
Endless nights trapped on that hellish planet. Losing all hope. Being forced to live each day with the fear of dying away from him, away from the team, was nearly the end of her. Jemma recounted the horrible day when she could no longer look at their pictures in her phone, and the realization that maybe, this time, there was no rescue. But we’re going to dinner, she kept thinking. The promise kept her pushing forward for weeks, but eventually the weight of the situation and the lack of any hope settled in. It was the first and only time she truly gave up. Memories of her mistakes and nightmares nearly clouded her judgement.
When that flare shot over the desolate blue horizon, Jemma almost felt reborn. Hope exploded within her, and soon she found herself struggling against he harsh winds to find the hand of the man who refused to give up on her. Who would always find her. When she was finally on Earth again, the joy of being home with him was only surpassed by the guilt and the debt she felt towards the man she left behind on Maveth. And Fitz, bless him, took all of it without complaint, which she soon found to be incredibly annoying. How can he be fine with this? That she felt love for another man? That he wanted to help her retrieve him potentially at the cost of the world’s safety?
She soon discovered that he was equally as frustrated, culminating in the first of what she had then hoped would be many more kisses. As fierce as it was tender, Jemma wonder how in the world they had gone without doing that for all these years. His remark that they were cursed cut her to the bone, reminding her that despite her insistence that destiny was a false construct, their lives had been nothing but obstacles in the way of happiness. After seeing another round of horrors, it seemed to them pointless to avoid feeling what they felt towards one another. The memories of their first night together brought heat to Jemma’s cheeks. They had crossed the event horizon. If they were going to suffer, they would do it together. If they were going to fight the good fight, they were going to do it together. Nothing would stand in their way again.
Together, Jemma and Daisy made quick work of the halls and the rooms within them. Very soon, the pair encountered a locked door that led to where Daisy stated was the cargo hold. If Fitz was anywhere aboard the ship, he would be inside here. Jemma waiting anxiously as her friend manually attempted to hack the door.
Flashes of AIDA and the Framework flitted around in Jemma’s mind, conjuring up feelings of desperation and fear. The simulated world had been one of Jemma’s worst nightmares, watching the man she loved become something she could barely recognize. In her darkest moments, the feeling of that cold gun pressed to her head still makes her heart clench in fear. Fitz’s expressionless eyes pouring into her own as he demands she state she never loved him. Her squared jaw as she denies him this excuse to kill her, instead stating plainly that she loved him, as if it were the secret to the universe, to life itself. Hearing that she meant nothing to him in return was akin to experiencing all the months after HYDRA and Maveth in one heart-shattering moment.
In the aftermath of the Framework, the two of them leaned on each other to recover and to make sense of what had happened. Having the Doctor’s personality within him was something that traumatized Fitz and what caused him to doubt whether or not Jemma should truly love him at all. She tried to assuage such thoughts with a touch or a reassuring word, but nothing seemed to be good enough. When he was kidnapped by AIDA and finally voiced that he was irrevocably in love with Jemma, her heart only then began to truly heal. They resolved to work through their experiences together, and Jemma could still remember the feeling of his hand caressing her back as they sat in that diner.
With a jolt, Jemma watched as the door slid open to reveal a dark and foreboding-looking room. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, she continued to say.
“Jemma,” Daisy started, but as soon as she spoke the lights came on, illuminating the space.
Months of captivity and servitude to Kasius was degrading enough without acknowledging the pit in her stomach that always seemed to form when Fitz was not there. As far as she knew, he was trapped in the past and had already lived out the rest of his life without her. The thought was almost unbearable to consider, and lived as a silent behemoth in the back of her head whenever she thought of him during her captivity. When she turned the corner to see him that day, sauntering over and staring at her like he had the day they first kissed, Jemma’s world halted and suddenly things were hopeful again. They escaped together, defeated their enemies, and even managed to return to the present, all while remaining together.
Jemma had originally envisioned being married in a small church with her family and close friends, somewhere in the rolling countryside of England. From there, they would move to their cottage in Perthshire, where their lives would remain peaceful and free from any world-shattering danger. Being married in a forest dimension within a secret underground bunker was definitely not the wedding she had envisioned, but it was still everything that she had ever wanted.
Jemma blinked as she adjusted to the light.
“I think that you’re perfect.” Fitz almost breathed as they held hands, his eyes shining. “And um, I don’t deserve you, Jemma. I don’t.” He reiterated as she cocked her head to the side in smiling disagreement. “I don’t deserve you. And I’m well aware that I am the luckiest man on any planet.” More sniffles from Jemma and the others as Coulson gave the two of them their rings.
“Quickly please, before this forest collapses around us.” Chuckles echoed throughout the smiling crowd. Coulson paused, and looked incredibly proud. “Okay, Fitz, repeat after me. ‘With this ring’-“
Fitz reverently slid the ring over her finger. Jemma’s smile widened as she beheld it and gripped his other hand tighter. “With this ring-“ Fitz repeated, looking at her with the stars in his eyes.
“I thee wed.” Coulson finished.
“I thee wed.” Fitz repeated. Jemma swallowed the lump in her throat as she repeated the same, sliding the ring onto his finger and watching as he let out a breath.
Jemma could hear Daisy sniffing and saw Mack grinning as he filmed the event. Coulson looked at the two of them proudly as he stated, “Now by the powers vested in me by…well, by the two of you, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife.” A pause. “You may kiss the bride.” Jemma’s lips found Fitz’s and the sounds of her friends – no, her family- cheering filled her ears as they parted. Grinning blissfully like the two idiots in love they were, Jemma could not remember in that moment when she had been happier.
Blood was everywhere.
The few pieces of cargo in the ship were tossed and on their side, while the cryo chamber that Fitz had clearly been in was smeared with a mixture of red blood and some green liquid. Two hand-shaped bloody smear marks led away from the pod, as if someone had been badly wounded and then was pulled forcefully from the room. Beside her, Daisy staggered backward in horror at the sight until she hit the wall, covering her mouth. Behind her, the team had finally caught up with them and their gasps could be heard alongside Daisy’s.
Jemma couldn’t breathe.
He was gone. Fitz was gone. He was taken and, judging by the amount of blood in the room, was badly wounded. By the look of it, he gave whatever group that took him a good fight before finally being dragged off. Slowly, Jemma walked up to the pod that had until recently contained the love of her life. Placing a hand on the exterior, she saw that the bloodstains originated from within the pod and seemed to even be on the inside of the window. The reality of the situation seemed to hit her all at once, knocking Jemma to her knees. Hot tears began falling unbidden from her eyes, which were now screwed shut in frustration and grief.
Jemma heard what Mack said, but did not quite believe it. It wasn’t possible, she reasoned. He had promised to always be with her, no matter what. They had survived space, time travel, alien invasions, and countless other obstacles. Death was the least challenging thing they had encountered, and it seemed oddly small compared to their experiences. The possibility of having to live without Fitz for the rest of her life seemed to envelop her and drag her down into the abyss. He couldn’t be gone, she reasoned. If anyone was going to kill him, it would be Jemma if he kept her waiting any longer. For a few moments, she held her breath, half-expecting him to walk in the room after Mack’s silent departure. When he didn’t saunter in with that smile or the stars in his eyes, Jemma was forced to consider that maybe…
Wait.
Time travel. The team had time travelled to the future. Fitz had to follow them the only way that he could without the aid of a monolith; suspended animation. That meant that somewhere in the present time, there was a version of him before his arrival in the future. Not dead. Still alive.
Her Fitz.
The thought propelled her forward, suppressing the grief and anger that threatened to overtake her. He’s still alive, she told herself. There was nothing to be worried about; they would find him and everything will be okay again. As plans began to form in her mind, Jemma kept the darkness from overtaking her by reciting the same words like a chant, like a prayer of some dark recess of her heart. He’s still alive, he’s still alive, he’s still alive, Jemma continued to think, pushing her feelings ever deeper.
For the first time in weeks, her mantra did not save her. Grief overtook Jemma like a strong wind, bearing her ever forward toward the realm of despair. All the fear and sadness that she had been suppressing over the past few weeks seemed to rush in at once. Yet despite this realization Jemma knew one thing.
She would find Fitz again. If there was one thing the universe had shown them, it was that no matter how far apart they were or how many dangers lay between them, nothing could stop them indefinitely.
They would always find each other.
#agents of shield#aos#aos spoilers#fitzsimmons#leo fitz#jemma simmons#aos season 6#phil coulson#melinda may#alphonso mackenzie#elena rodriguez#daisy johnson#marvel's agents of shield#anon fic
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@blucpincushicn (x)
☾ ??? ☽ :
A pair of dusty red sneakers thud against the balcony rail as Sonic returns home. Clutched in one of his gloved hands are what appears to be a couple fliers advertising some festivals set to take place over in Mazuri. He allows himself a moment to survey the ground below him, just to double check he hadn’t been followed. Ears swivel back and forth, listening for anything out of the ordinary. He had to be a little cautious when entering his home, if only to avoid unwelcome guests discovering where he ‘lived’.
Thankfully though, he seemed to be in the clear. Exhaling and relaxing, Sonic hops onto the deck with a thump and nonchalantly makes his way inside. Little did he know however, he already had a surprise guest (but not of the unwelcome kind). He’s so caught up in going about his business that he doesn’t even notice the other hedgehog’s presence. Sonic strips his gloves and tosses them onto the perpendicular couch to the one Shadow slumbered on, snatches an apple out of the fridge and proceeds to rinse it off, then zips on over to a shelf and pins up one of the fliers with an absent smile, all the while humming a quiet tune to himself. He studies the pictures on the paper, one hand resting his hip while the other idly balances the apple on his pointer finger and his foot gently taps against the carpeted floor.
It’s not until he goes to take a bite from the fruit does he pause, catching the shape of his guest laying on the couch from the corner of his eye. Slowly, he turns his head, expression growing more shocked by the second— almost comically so. What the,, Shadow ?!
The apple thumps and rolls against the ground, abandoned by the speedster. He’s at the other hedgehog’s side in a heartbeat, kneeling on the floor and hands hovering aimlessly over Shadow’s side. Was he alright? Where’d he even come from? How did Sonic not notice earlier? A million questions flooded his mind, his mouth frowning in concern. Although upon closer inspection Sonic realized the scratches on his rival’s body were healing just fine. It didn’t look like anything serious. Nothing seemed to be infected… though the hero wondered about that patch of missing fur.
He has half a mind to dash to his room and return with a blanket and pillow, very gingerly lifting up Shadow’s head just enough to slide the cushion underneath and then drape the quilt over his body. I told you to keep yourself warm…
Sonic sits back on his heels with an exasperated sigh, still wrapping his head around the sudden surprise. At least, it seemed he was back now, though the hero had no idea if Shadow was still doing this undercover mission or whatever. But he supposed here was probably one of the safest places the agent could come to rest. Not even Eggman could track down this place.
He guessed for now, he ought to let the other hedgehog have his rest. It seemed like he could really use it. Though this definitely changed whatever plans the speedster had in mind for the rest of the day. He didn’t want to leave now that he knew Shadow was here… he at least wanted to greet him when he woke again. Who knows how well he’d been taking care of himself over the past week. Had he’d even eaten?
Sonic hums thoughtfully, an idea popping into his head. He could make something for Shads when he finally woke up! Who didn’t like breakfast in bed, right?
…Well, more like breakfast on the couch. And it might be more like dinner on the couch. Because who knows when he’d wake up. Either way, it’s the thought that counts.
Nodding to himself, Sonic stands and heads over to the fridge to decide on what to make.
He does register the increased level of comfort through his slumber, warm blanket securing his sense of safety further and fresh pillow giving him something to latch onto other than his own limbs. He remains dead quiet all the same, not a single sound passing his lips, his body eerily still save for the subtle breathing. One might think nothing could disturb his sleep.
One would be mistaken. His senses begin stirring before long. The amount of light pouring into the room becomes bothersome. Light noises now reach him; footsteps, doors closing, inoffensive movements. Some mild itches beg him to tip into consciousness enough to be scratched. In the end, however, it’s the smells - all of them so foreign - that get his eyes to snap open.
He doesn’t move in the slightest otherwise. His mind starts running almost immediately, but nothing else in his body points to his awakening as he forces himself to assess his situation.
Neither his hands or feet are bound; he is free to move as he wishes, if not vaguely hindered by the blanket covering him, which he removes from his person with extreme caution. That’s when the itches make senses, as he takes note of the few scratches covering him, well on their way to disappearing but noticeable all the same. How did he get these ?
He doesn’t recognize those injuries, no more than he recognizes the couch he’s laying on, or the television plastered across it, or this entire room for that matter. Everything looks and smells unfamiliar. What is he doing here ?
He can’t remember how he got there. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he was awake, what happened or how he wound up falling asleep. What can he remember ? His name, for one thing. And a very blurry image - mostly characterized by a certain color. Anything else seems to be making this budding headache worse.
He hopes to find some kind of answer in whatever he’s clenching his fist around so hard, but is disappointed on that front as well. It’s a flower, nothing more. One he obviously crushed in his sleep, holding on to it so tight, but he can assumed it had been picked out a couple of days prior anyway, with how faded and withered its yellow hue has turned. Just what was he carrying this for ?
His train of thought is interrupt by a sound too close for comfort, and he silently leans back down onto the couch while directing his eyes in its direction, taking notice of a whole other person in the room right next to him. His heart immediately doubles in pulse, his not being alone meaning he needs to act now. Does this place belong to this stranger ? Are they the person who put him here ? A captor, of sorts ?
Chaos, this headache might as well split his skull.
Well, they’re certainly distracted at the moment, apparently operating some of their appliances. They have their back turned on him as well. How convenient.
The plant is discarded, carelessly dropped on the floor and quickly replaced with a dagger he reaches for out of instinct. He shifts his weight off the couch and onto floor - carpeted, also convenient - and begins his silent approach, squinting at the individual with every soft step. Who is this ?
The floor they’re standing on isn’t so conveniently covered in carpet. The moment he steps on that hardwood, he’ll most likely be heard. He inhales quietly to steady his nerves. It’s time he gets some answers.
He paces forward swiftly, closing the gap in a second to press his blade around the stranger’s neck. “Who are you and why did you bring me here ?”
#heroquills#✮ ☾ bow your heads low ☽ ↳ ic#✮ ☾ farewell to the shadow ☽ ↳ dash verse#do you ever hurt yourself writing something
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So regarding the conundrum I was stuck in, which I expressed yesterday, I’ve reached a veredict. And I would actually appreciate some feedback because this is THE low point. This is where the line on the graph just falls down like a damn slope.
Keep in mind this is the structure: the character who wrote the letter, Etain, is already dead. The very previous chapter shows her death, and why it happened. It is mentioned she wrote a letter, and this would be the letter she sent that her betrothed reads.
Defeated, he fell on a chair, head stuck between his hands. All around him, the two continued to discuss—Flann as cautious as ever, Ewan siding with the younger one, pros and cons being listed, one eager to put together a party to assess his claims, stating that sending a few scouts couldn’t hurt, they should at least try. Flann agreed with the scouts, but not everything else—it was an unnecessary risk, they had to wait until they reached further north and secured a safe passage towards Dunmorrígain so they could contact the ó Conchobhair, with their aid they could then prepare an assault.
But the uncertainty in Seán’s heart grew, a flutter that propelled him to move in his seat like a restless child, hands up and down his body, between messing his hairs and slapping his knees, jittering leg evidencing his despair. I have to have faith, he thought, closing his eyes for a moment as behind him the two men continued to discuss the matter with a growing voice that was borderline a shouting contest. He had come to notice that Ewan and Flann tended to disagree on several matters, far too much than what should be expected of a clan bearing not two, but three leaders. It sometimes caused a fuss between their men, who seemed torn between the two and acted irrationally out of, perhaps, a lack of discipline. He hoped that wouldn’t be the case then.
Time passed; outside, the sounds of merry living dwindled, light decreasing as the sun settled in the horizon, and inside the tent, the fight ensued. Seán didn’t move, only occasionally turning back to say something he believed to be useful, though he was sure none of them paid attention to what he had to say. Then, a man came inside, holding a letter between his fingers and called for either of the leaders. Ewan and Flann exchanged a look, the former taking a step forward and leaning in to listen to the messenger’s whisper.
Ewan looked down at the letter, a layer of pallor cast over his face as he gulped in silence. His eyes skimmed the inside of the tent as if he sought for something, but they rested on him, on Seán. He gave a step forward, handed him the letter and nodded.
“For you,” he said. “From Alba. It just arrived.”
Seán’s hands trembled, his fingers barely able to hold the paper. The seal struck a chord of fear in his heart—the green apple of the ó Cairbre. His mouth went dry and he blinked repeatedly; there was a hazy sensation to the world, as if it swirled and moved despite his existence, outside himself, with no meaning, no connection to his soul, no relation to him whatsoever. It was a good sign, was it not? She had written him a letter—it had to be Etain’s words inside—and that meant she was safe. Yet something inside his heart sent a shudder of a horrifying anticipation, one he couldn’t quite explain.
He broke the seal. The letters danced on the paper when he unfolded it, and for a while, they seemed to bear no meaning. Do not come for me, no matter what happens. His hand waved in the air, found solace in covering his mouth when tears sparked in his eyes. I am lost, and this I have chosen with a clear conscience, now I only pray to Brigid that you find it in your heart to forgive me. A dash of pain, cold and brisk, stabbed his heart and shot up his head; for a moment, he thought he went blind, but was simply blinking. His eyes focused with difficulty, the words now contorting under the yellow tint of the lights that brought out their irrational shape and buried their crude meaning into the depths of his scarred mind. Am I to live, he will make me a prisoner and negotiate my life with Selena—I cannot allow that, my love. I cannot allow myself to put her in that position.
Both Ewan and Flann disappeared from his sight; all there was, was the irritating sepia tone of the air around him, the intense smell of burned wax and wood, and the clanging sounds of metal outside, cups clinking against one another as voices raged in roaring laughter. A distant, inconceivable joy he couldn’t place. He wasn’t there, but thrust into somewhere unknown, a black nothingness where Etain’s words stung his skin like a million needles.
I am told they’re only a day away as I write this. It is likely the ó Cinnéid will yield. They’re weak, have always turned where the money is and hide their tails between their legs like cowards. Do not trust them. Lugh knows I cannot, and I have accepted the fate of our city. Now, I have to accept mine.
The words became blurry. Seán wiped his eyes with the back of his hand when the tears came, blinked repeatedly at their stinging sensation. Protect her. Fight for her. A sob escaped his lips; his hand shivered, he could barely hold the paper. Stay with her, forever. Don’t ever leave her side. She needs you, my love. He crumpled the letter, though he didn’t mean to; he thought of throwing it away, but couldn’t do it. Etain’s very soul was contained in it, her very essence enclosed in the ink that stained it in those daunting words.
Tell Selena I love her, and how much it saddens me that I will never get to see her crowned. Perhaps my spirit will linger, and I shall walk by her side until her dying days. I certainly hope the gods are kind enough to grant me the gift of peering through the veils, if only to make sure her life is a gracious one.
Ewan’s hand moved, trying to reach for his shoulder in a calming pat, but Seán warded him away. The letter was clutched to his hand like an amulet—he couldn’t let it go. He opened it again, pressed it against the table to soften the creases of his impulsive gesture, a sense of regret so great possessing his heart he felt he was tending to Etain herself, muttering the words as he did so: I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, my love, I am so sorry.
I left my wedding dress on my bed. Ever since the day I left the School, I longed to wear it. I chose the colour blue because it reminded me of the seas, the same that’s always scared you so much.
Flann tried to speak to him, but Seán told him to shut up. The map was now a deriding vision, a divine mockery. There was no room for the flashing memories that assaulted him—all he could think of was Alba and its gardens, the marble statues of Etain’s favoured place, sprinkled with apple trees and quinces everywhere as she hopped around merrily. Her giggle. The way her eyes crushed whenever she smiled, her cheeks pink as roses in puerile joy. Her golden locks swaying at the salty breeze, how graciously they framed her round face.
I keep thinking of the day I fell in love with you. That day you found me in the arena and I begged you not to tell the guards on me. We had known each other for eleven years, and I wondered: how could I have missed it? How could we have lived together as friends for so long and missed on the love that bloomed right there and then, so immediate it took me by surprise? How could we have shared a lifetime together and only find this joy so shortly before we parted ways? I wish I could return there. I wish I could stand in the School’s arena with you right now. I wish I was hiding behind a tree or under the benches as you pressed a hand against my lips to keep me quiet while the guards searched for us. I thought the School would tear us both apart if we let everyone know, but as it turns out, it was never in the gods’ plans.
The world, Seán, is more cruel than I figured. Alba was always peaceful. I had my stupid gardens and my ocean, and I had you. And all the while, our beloved Selena suffered. They taught us for eleven years the tools to survive in a world that isn’t ours. They kept us hidden and protected like precious gems, and released us into the world like tamed animals. You and I, and Selena, we don’t know how to survive in it. The three of us were always bound to inherit a war we didn’t start. That’s why you must always stand by her side, that’s why you must always fight for her. So that in one year, two years, eleven years, the next children won’t fear what we feared.
I love you, so much I understand now our fates are not bound together. I love you enough to take the fall so you shall stand. But I promise you I shall not fall alone. You’ve always said I was a better dancer than I was a fighter. I suppose the time has come for my last dance, my love.
“There has to be time for—” his words died on his tongue, sucked in by his own sobbing. When another pair of hands touched him, Séan pushed them away. “You have to go to Alba right now! You have to do something!”
And the world swirled, untamed, distant and disconnected. All he thought about was Etain, her garden, her quinces and apple trees; all he thought about the wedding that never happened, the mistakes committed in the past. Her joy, her smile, her giggle. Her bossy attitude, her imposing stance, the way she pressed her lips together when she wanted things done her way, how her eyes fulminated whoever crossed her. Her blind acceptance of Selena’s reveal, how she hadn’t flinched at the thought of her best friend being Lavinia’s daughter. Devoted and faithful, as she had always been.
Ewan’s hands held him down by the shoulders; this time, Seán didn’t fight him. His strength waned, his vision blurred. The letter shuddered in his hand, the words now indistinct. I love you, and please forgive me. They danced in his mind like a haunting, and images of Etain projected themselves in his mind as a last attempt to hold on to her. Stand with her, fight for her, don’t ever leave her side. Promise me. I promise you, he thought, but he couldn’t; if he promised her, that meant accepting she was gone, but there was still time, there was still a chance.
“I cannot—” tears ran down his cheeks. “I cannot leave her, we have to—” there had to be a chance, there had to be a chance at saving her, saving the city, saving Alba’s gardens; a chance at standing atop the walls overlooking the black rocks whipped by the white foam of the seas, as Etain leaned over with arms wide open, giggling. He had to see her again. “Please, I beg you, we have to—”
“I’ll gather a party,” Ewan said, his hands now holding his face. “We’ll leave in the morning.”
Seán nodded. There had to be a chance.
So yeah, my idea was taunting the reader with this idea of the character being obsessed with the possibility of there being a chance, because there isn’t. By now, the reader knows there’s no chance. She’s dead and the reader saw it.
(And then there’s one character left for us to see just how much this fucks her up)
#my writing#writeblr#also hey#I wrote this last night#very likely to be changed sometimes soon#but so far I think it holds
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Fallen
A/N: Here’s a one-shot I started a while back. Thought it would be a nice change of pace. Enjoy!
Warnings: Blood, depressive thoughts, panic attack.
Cold…no hot…no cold, everything dark, everything blurry. Suffocating…not enough air, not enough space. Claustrophobic, walls contracting, releasing, like the steady beat of a heart. He flicks the lighter in his hand, breathing a sigh of relief as the flame returns. The light, he must trust the light, stay in the light. No darkness, no sleep. Darkness leads to death. Whatever you do don’t fall asleep. Watch the shadows.
Time scattered to the wind…How long had he been there, wandering the winding paths? Only a few hours or so…no, no it’s been a day at least…or maybe a year? No idea, keep moving. He has to move, he has to flee. The voice—a friend? He thought maybe—said to flee. Don’t turn back, don’t look back. He will find you, the evil one, the one who…
What did he do? He couldn’t quite remember. A jumbled mess of sights, sounds, the feel of things against his skin. A pumpkin, knife in his hand, strange noises, the cold sensation of the blade, fiery pain…
He gasps, stumbling. Poof, his only light disappears. Eyes widen, panic sets in, wrenching desperately at the lighting mechanism, no success. Whispers, children’s voices, incomprehensible, terrifying. He curses, not sure if any sound comes out. Nothing works the way it’s supposed to in this world.
Finally the light returns, he relaxes. Starts forward again, slowly, fearfully. The whispers disappear, but there are other sounds. Screech of metal on metal, the faint sound of a low laugh, footsteps within the walls, following him, surrounding him.
Quickens his pace, he has to hurry. More pictures and sounds and feelings. The doctor—another of his friends?—feeling ill, pain all over, screams, fade to black. Pieces of a puzzle, slowly becoming less jumbled. Images become clear as a reflection in a mirror, forming an orderly line as they fit into place. Happens slowly, too slowly.
More footsteps, sound of the knife much closer, a loud crash. Have to hurry, have to find a way out, have to find the voice. Must stay awake, cannot go back, will not go back. The dark scares him, sends a shot of adrenaline through his veins. Nightmares, endless torment, no end unless he can escape. Right behind him, closing in. Dash down a side hallway, the sounds fade. He stops to catch his breath. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. The pounding of his heart quiets, he can hear again.
His light dims, he panics. It flickers back to life, he is calm again. Time to move on. He is near. Creeps forward, struggling to keep the light alive. Flicker, flicker it goes, over and over, and endless cycle, running in circles.
Focus, dammit. Escape, escape. That’s all he needs to do is escape, find the others. They can protect him, help him…save him. More pictures, anguished cries, a surgeon’s mask. He turns the corner.
Freezes in his tracks as the light flickers back. A silhouette, facing away. Him. Fear, poignant fear. He can smell fear, makes him grin wickedly. RUN screams the voice. He does.
Jack’s hand twitched in Chase’s grip, rousing the man from his light sleep. He shifted in his seat, grimacing at the soreness in his limbs and the flare in his back as he sat up. What had woke him? Groggily, he scanned the room, searching for the source. Marvin was still passed out on the other bed, JJ and Schneep by his side, both dozing lightly. How long had it been? A few hours at most. Poor Marv had really pushed himself, hadn’t he?
He glanced down at Jack, mostly on instinct, as if this time he’d be awake, or something had changed. Even though he knew the thought was crazy, he couldn’t help himself. When he finally focused on his friend, it was like a splash of ice-cold water in his face. His eyes flew wide open and he jerked back, nearly sending himself over backwards. Jack was twitching in his sleep, and his eyes moved back and forth under his eyelids, his expression that of distress and fear, lips tightening in a grimace.
“Guys!” Chase said, knocking the chair over with a loud clatter as he stood up. He stumbled, barely managing to catch himself on the side of Jack’s bed. Jameson jerked awake, startled by the loud noise, and Schneeplestein soon followed, cursing angrily in German as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Marvin mumbled in his sleep, but didn’t wake. “Guys, come here! He’s–”
“Chase,” Schneeplestein interrupted testily, “calm down. Vhat is happening?” He scurried over to Jack’s side, watching him as he moved. A small whimper escaped Jack’s lips. Schneeplestein’s expression tightened, and Chase could almost see the memories flashing through his mind as he checked Jack’s vitals. His heart rate was high, respirations high, rise in blood pressure, everything else was normal. Exactly like a nightmare.
Schneeplestein swiped the clipboard off the end of Jack’s bed and took his flashlight pen from his pocket. He scribbled furiously, an incomprehensible tangle of medical jargon that Chase and Jameson couldn’t hope to understand. “Zhis…very interesting, hopefully very good as well,” the doctor muttered to himself. The others said nothing, knowing Schneep wasn’t looking for a response.
The doctor moved to Jack’s head and lifted one of his eyelids gently. Jack’s eyes moved from side to side, as if he was in a deep sleep—dreaming—but were also red and bloodshot, as if the man hadn’t slept in days. There was a slight septic tint to his right eye, but if Schneeplestein was surprised, he didn’t show it. He flashed his light across Jack’s eyes, watching as the pupils contracted. “Es ist interessant, aber…” Schneeplestein trailed off into his usual incomprehensible mutterings. He ignored Chase’s offer to help and walked straight through Jameson’s dialogue card on his way to take a draught of his coffee. He was in his zone now, completely and utterly oblivious to everything around him.
Next came a blood sample. Jack drew in a sharp breath as the needle sank into his arm and his whole body tensed. Schneep shrank a little and quickly withdrew the needle when he had gotten what he needed, and Chase could have sworn he heard the man apologizing under his breath. His heart cracked a little.
“Okay,” Schneeplestein said when he was done, turning to Chase and Jameson, “I need to take zhis to zhe lab to analyze. God knows no one zhere vill do it for me, zhose mozhafuckers. Chase, you stay here vith Jack and Marvin, and Jameson, you can come vith me. I vill need assistance.” He gathered his papers and prepared a vial of Jack’s blood, disposing of the needle and slipping the vial carefully into his chest pocket. He gestured for Jameson to follow him.
Chase opened his mouth to argue. He wanted to help Jack, not sit here and have to watch him suffer. “What am I gonna do here? Sit there with my thumb up my ass? I wanna come with you.”
“Chase, you need to stay. I understand you vant to help, but I need someone who can operate a phone to stay here in case somezhing unexpected happens.”
Jameson shot him an indignant look. “You do have a point, Schneeplestein, but did you have to put it so bluntly?” He twitched his mustache when Schneep shrugged his shoulders.
“And,” Schneeplestein continued, “I don’t vant Marvin to be alone when he decides to wake up. Zhe little tickle in my tummy tells me he vill not be in zhe best of conditions.”
“Fine,” Chase huffed, plopping back down in his chair. “I understand.”
“Zhank you. Now, come Jameson. Ve have work to do.” With a swish of his coat, Schneeplestein was out the door. Jameson took one last worried glance back and checked his pocket watch.
“We must hurry, dear Schneeplestein. I fear that Jack may need us.” He marked the time and slid his watch back into its pocket before hurrying after Schneeplestein, the clack of his dress shoes echoing down the tile hallway.
When they were gone, Chase turned his attention back to Jack, and he winced when Jack let out a small cry. He took his friend’s hand and held it tight. “C'mon Jack, keep it up. You can do this. That bastard’s got nothing on you.” He glanced over at Marvin, who was still curled up on the other bed, snoring lightly.
Briefly, he wondered if he should disturb the magician, then he thought better of it. He didn’t know much about magic, or the aftereffects, but he remembered how Marvin had looked when he collapsed, skin shot through with pulsing green veins and radiating heat like a furnace. He decided not to chance it.
The grip on his hand tightened and Jack’s face scrunched, as if he was in pain. His head jerked from side to side and his breathing was labored, creating a film of condensation on the inside of his breathing mask. A fine sheen of sweat began to break out on his forehead. Chase gripped back, willing Jack to somehow know he was there, that he had support.
“We’re here for you, man. Please don’t give up. Don’t let him get to you.” Chase didn’t know how long he sat there, murmuring encouragement and watching as Jack fought, maintaining his vigilant watch. Every once in a while, Jack would scream, or cry, or whimper, but he was otherwise silent, leaving the work to his twitching limbs. It wasn’t long before Chase’s exhaustion began to catch up with him. He glanced around the room, hoping that Schneep had left his coffee laying around, but no such luck. That man protected his caffeine with his life.
Chase’s eyelids began to droop, and his limbs grew heavy. His encouragement turned to unintelligible murmurs, and he drifted away, unbidden. Soon enough, he was back where he had started, dozing lightly in his chair as he prayed to God for Jack to wake up.
Failing, falling, crashing through the hallways of the abandoned hospital, bare feet, billowing hospital gown. He’d been found, now he had to run. Heavy footsteps behind him, cold green light casting him in silhouette against the dirty tiles, hot blood rushing in his veins. Where is he? Change of scenery, unbidden. His light is gone, no idea where. Relying on the lights overhead, flickering maliciously.
Help, he wanted to scream, but he would find him. Run, run faster, run as fast as you can. Skidding around corners, falling to the floor. Slice across the palm, pain flares, blood drips. Crap, leaving a trail now. Smell of fresh blood in his nostrils, his blood. Tear of fabric, wrap the wound. Soaks fast, futile effort. Keep pushing on.
Shadow up ahead, flashing past, bulbs burst, shower of glass. He flinches, fear all he knows. Lungs beginning to burn, breaths labored, stitch in his side. Where are they? He has to find them. Doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up, could collapse at any moment. Keep pushing on, don’t give up.
Scenery shift, lofty mansion, dust-covered. Somewhere he got a gun, more cold steel. Machete hanging from his belt now. Don’t question it, keep moving. Strange name flits across his mind. Chase. Friend? No…Maybe? Memories recede, haze blocks his way.
A fight, some sort of creature, passes in a blur, a scream in the distance that he ignores. Now covered in blood and gore, unfazed. Run, run, keep on running until you find the exit. Only way out, follow the light. Will he make it? He has to.
Shit, sounds behind, above, all around. Childish giggles, scraping metal, the cold steel is back. Heavy pounding footsteps signifying death, destruction. Fuck, how did he find me? Fuck fuck fuck. Have to run, have to hide, have to–
Hand in his hair, yanked backward into awaiting arms. Sharpness against his throat, afraid to breathe, speak, swallow. One false move and he would taste nothing but blood. Awash in septic green, his own color turned sour. Whispers in his ear, lulling him back to sleep, peaceful sleep. Resist, resist, RESIST.
Tries to move, held tight, wrapped in steel. Thrashing harder, shouting now. What is he saying? Not even he can understand his words. Blade presses, slicing skin, blood running down his front. Tries to flinch away, solid wall blocks him. Presses tighter, tighter, suffocating him. Something warm on his cheek. Darkness enveloping him, drowning him.
Sleep so warm…so soft, inviting, comforting. Giving in…no you have to fight, NO…give in. He does. Collapses into unfamiliar yet familiar arms, eyes fluttering shut, no strength left. Blade leaves his neck, glowing red. Nothing can happen here, no one will find him as he drowns. Undisturbed in the sands of time, all eternity to sleep. Peaceful, easier to just let it happen. Voice of the other just a faint breeze passing through his ears, not registering. Dark, dull, warm, soft.
And he fades.
The heart monitor spiked as Jack began to convulse, ripping his hand out of Chase’s grip. His eyes flew open and he stared, yet he saw nothing. The veins on his neck popped and he clenched his fists tight, fingernails digging into the soft flesh as he flailed uncontrollably. Chase leaped to his feet and fumbled for his phone. “Shit, shit, shit! Hold on, Jack, please hold on!” He felt sick as he jabbed at his screen, trying to get his shaky hands to cooperate long enough to dial Schneeplestein’s number. Finally, he managed.
“Vhat’s vrong?” Schneep demanded immediately, voice strained. He could hear the wild beeping of the machines in the background, and Jack’s choking breaths.
“A seizure or something! I got no fuckin’ clue, but you better hurry.” Chase flinched when Jack let out an anguished cry. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look. “Please, Henrik.”
There was a second of silence, then Schneeplestein spoke again, “Chase, listen very carefully. Do not try to restrain him, do not even touch him. You vill only hurt yourself, or him.” There was a sound from Schneep’s end of the phone, the clinking of glass on glass. “I am almost done. Promise me you vill not interfere.”
“I…” Another agonized cry tore the air and Chase was hit with the urge to vomit.
“Chase. Do you promise?” A door slamming, the hurried clack of shoes on tile.
“Yeah,” Chase forced out through the nausea, “I promise.”
“Hang on, buddy, ve are coming.” The line went dead and Chase let the phone clatter to the floor as he dropped to his knees in front of the trash can. His stomach heaved and he grimaced, clinging to the trash can until there was nothing left to come up. His throat burned, and the sour taste in his mouth made him want to vomit again.
It took all Chase had to rise to his feet and return to his friend’s side. It made his stomach churn as Jack fought, caught in the throes of a seizure, or some other sort of horrific trap that that beast had laid for him. As much as it hurt, he had to stay strong this time. He had to stay strong for Jack.
“Keep fighting, Jack, please. Schneep’s on his way back. Just a little longer. You can’t let him get you.” Jack jerked, and his hands flew up to his throat as he began to choke, nearly ripping his IV out. “Jack? No, let him go you bastard! Fight him Jack! Fight him!” Adrenaline surged through Chase’s veins and he cursed. He had to help, somehow he had to help. He glanced over at the other bed.
“Fuck it,” he breathed, “Jack needs us.” He grabbed the magician’s shoulder and shook him. “Marv, wake up! Something’s happening. He’s got Jack!”
“Gah!” Marvin bolted upright and gazed wildly around the room, eyes fixing immediately on Jack thrashing in his bed. “What the…Jack! Shit.” He flew off the bed, nearly collapsing as stars spattered across his vision. He drew in a pained breath and groped for something to hold onto, eventually finding Chase’s shoulder. Chase hoisted him up, letting Marvin wrap an arm around his neck.
“How long has he been like this?” Marvin demanded. “Where is Schneeplestein?” He let go of Chase and stumbled to Jack’s side. His knuckles were white as he gripped the railing on the bed for support.
“A few minutes. Schneep and JJ went to test some of Jack’s blood.” Marvin took a deep breath to steady himself. When he felt ready, he extended a hand. “No!” Marvin stopped. “I…Henrik said not to interfere,” Chase finished.
“I know. I won’t touch him. I just…” He winced as a lightning crack of pain split his skull. “I want to try a spell.”
“Marv, you know that’s not a good idea. You’re still not at your best, and we can’t have you hurt too. You’re the only one who can reach him.”
“I know,” Marvin snapped, “I’m not a child, Chase. I know my limitations.” Chase shrank back from the sharp words, hurt flashing in his eyes, and Marvin’s face fell beneath his mask. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. I promise I won’t try anything like what I tried earlier.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Chase nodded. “Since all hell would have to break loose to stop you, please help him.”
“I plan on it.” He took a deep, shuddering breath and released his hold on the bed railing. He swayed precariously, and Chase moved behind him, arms out and ready to catch the magician if he went toppling over backwards. He tried to hide his grimace as another bolt of pain threatened to split his head open.
Another deep breath, and he extended his hand, calling up his magic and letting it flow through him. His eyes began to glow with a soft, septic green light.
Marvin let his fingertips hover just above Jack’s forehead, lips moving as he wove his spell, pale, wispy tendrils of magic stretching towards Jack, and his eyes lit up. Marvin tensed, drawing in a sharp breath as he felt the spell take hold. There was no turning back now. He reeled as he was slingshotted into Jack’s mind, and fell to his knees on the dusty boards of a mansion.
A knee met his face and he rolled, busting through a brittle railing and falling to the floor below, pain exploding in every inch of his body. Blood ran from his nose, and before he could even muster the strength to wipe it away on his sleeve, there was a crushing weight on his chest, a sharp knife pricking his throat.
“You thought you could save him?” The monster, Anti, smirked. He trained his single glowing eye on the magician as he struggled. “Marvin, we both know how weak you are. You’re failing him, just as you always have, just like last time when that gentleman had to take your place. I’ll make sure you’re in no position to ever fail again.” “No,” Marvin choked out. Anti pressed the knife harder against his throat, drawing blood. Marvin let out a strangled scream of pain and fear. “No!”
“Yes.” A single flick of the wrist and blood sprayed into the air as the magician went limp. Outside, his body collapsed, the magic dying and the spell dissipating. Chase leaped forward, barely managing to catch him before he hit the floor. On the bed, Jack’s struggles had weakened, no longer the terrifying convulsions they were, but weak tremors.
Chase gently lowered Marvin to the ground and sank to the floor, pressing his back against the bedside table as everything threatened to overwhelm him. He hadn’t helped anything; he’d only gotten Marvin hurt, and Jack was still the same, fighting a battle he was quickly losing. He’d been stupid to think he could have helped. Fuck, why hadn’t he just done what Schneep had said and stayed put?
God, where was a drink when he needed it?
He flinched as the door swung open, banging into the wall. Schneeplestein came barreling in, followed closely by Jameson. The dapper man knelt beside Chase while Schneeplestein began rushing to and fro, shoving things aside and gathering materials, one eye trained on Jack’s struggling form, the other on the heart monitor, which was going wild. He went off, spouting a string of what was probably strong German cursing.
“My word, what happened here?” Jameson asked, tapping Chase on the shoulder and glancing at Marvin sprawled on the floor. Chase sniffled, stifling his tears for the time being.
“I-I dunno. He’s only been like this for maybe ten minutes. Marvin tried to help but…” His throat constricted and he trailed off.
He put a comforting hand on Chase’s shoulder. “May I ask, are you feeling well? You look, as you would say, not so hot.” Chase shook his head numbly.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t-I can’t-it’s too much.” The words spewed out of him and Jameson’s hand tightened on his shoulder.
“Come now, my good fellow, we can face this. We cannot let this unsavory beast get the best of us. What would that make us? Surely not the men we claim to be!” He paused, letting his words sink in before helping Chase to his feet. “Now, may I request your assistance in moving our poor friend Marvin back to his bed? It wouldn’t do to have him getting in the way and getting hurt.”
Chase nodded. “Yeah, sure thing.” He scooped Marvin up with a grunt and slipped one of his arms around the magician’s back. Jameson picked up his other side and together, they carried him back to the spare hospital bed, doing their best to lay him in a comfortable position. After that was done, they turned their attention back to the more pressing matter. Back into the fray they went.
Jameson looked over at Schneeplestein, who was pulling out what appeared to be a defibrillator. The doctor met his gaze with intense, determined eyes. Then, he gestured to Chase, beckoning him to his side. His doctor training had kicked in and he was spouting commands left and right. “Jameson, you stay zhere. Encourage him, anything to help him resist. Chase, I need your help.” Jameson nodded, bright sparks trailing across his fingertips as he prepared the magic Marvin had taught him.
Hesitantly, Chase made his way to Schneeplestein’s side, deliberately avoiding looking at the trembling figure on the bed. “You need to hold him as best you can vhile I place zhese,” Schneep gestured to the defibrillator paddles in his hands. “Vhen I say ‘clear’, you let go immediately. Understood?” Chase nodded. It didn’t take much effort to hold Jack down, just the light touch of Chase’s hands on his shoulders was enough to steady him.
“Clear!”
Chase jumped back as Schneep activated the defibrillator, sending a shock through Jack’s body. His back arched, then he fell flat, his trembling ceasing altogether. The heart monitor, however, was still spiking irregularly. For the first time, Chase noticed the bloody tears leaving dark red tracks down Jack’s face.
“Clear!”
Another shock, and this time Chase had to turn away as he began to feel sick.
“Clear!”
Chase closed his eyes and heaved in big breaths as his chest tightened. He gripped the railing of the bed, trying to keep from shaking. It was too much, all of it was too much. There was a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the bed, sitting him in the chair, which had been moved against the wall, away from Jack’s bed. The urge to drink hit him again, like a freight train. What he wouldn’t give for a bottle of that liquid courage.
The eerie wail of the flatline rang out, freezing everyone in their tracks. The defibrillator paddles clattered to the floor, and Chase could hear Schneeplestein struggling to breathe, drawing in ragged breaths around the sobs threatening to choke him, the fear and guilt and horrible sense of failure digging into him, tearing him apart. He could almost hear the thoughts swirling in the doctor’s head, the same ones gouging him like daggers, the same ones speeding by on Jameson’s incomprehensible speech slides, the same ones Marvin would be thinking if he were conscious, the ones Jackie would be screaming if he were here.
No..no, this can’t be happening, not again, oh please God not again, it can’t end this way, Jack can’t be…Anti can’t win, we can’t let him win, we can’t let him take Jack! NO! JACK, STAY WITH US, PLEASE, YOU HAVE TO FIGHT HIM! JACK! Wake up! Please, you have to wake up. Please…
Everything slowed to a snail’s pace as reality came crashing down around them and Jack’s body rose from its bed. Schneeplestein, head in his hands, and Chase, eyes squeezed shut, saw nothing, the haze of grief too intense to be subdued. They had failed…again. Jack was gone, taken by the beast.
Anti met Jameson’s terrified eyes with a smile and held a finger to his lips as he ripped the mask off his face. Petrified, the gentleman couldn’t move, couldn’t think. He was frozen in fear. The beast approached Schneeplestein, and his fingers curled around the back of his neck, hauling him to his feet with inhuman strength. The doctor cried out, thrashing in Anti’s grasp as the glitch put two fingers to his forehead. Suddenly he went limp, and Anti dropped him to the floor.
Jameson cut him off as he made a beeline for Chase, who watched with dull, terrified eyes. There was a fierce glint in the gentleman’s eyes that the glitch never would have thought he possessed, as if he actually stood a chance of stopping what was about to happen. Nevertheless, he didn’t put up much of a fight. A single punch and it was over. And Chase…well, he was too broken to resist, and Anti couldn’t help but laugh at his handiwork. Now all his little puppets were back in line, trapped in the void where they belonged.
With one last look around at the fallen bodies, Anti left the hospital room behind, closing the door softly behind him. He whistled as he strode down the hallway, his power radiating out and causing the bulbs above him to burst. It was time to go home, and time to pay Signe a visit.
Tags: @nebula-starlight
#jacksepticeye#jacksepticeye fanfiction#jse#jacksepticeye egos#septic egos#creek's imagines#tw: blood#tw: panic attack#jse fanfiction
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