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lanistas · 2 years ago

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lead me home, my shooting star (Maura x Eyk, light and soft smut; Eyk sees Maura as his north star, his axis, and his lighthouse guiding him to safety)

[I was writing this fic waiting for season 2 announcement, and now... I’m crying, you guys... Anyways, this is officially a ‘screw you, Netflix’ fic now, hope you still enjoy]

also on ao3

His dreams are plagued by fire. Night after night, he is the victim and he is the arsonist, he is the mad and he is the grieving, perishing in the catastrophe of his own making. His wife, a woman caught up in her own demons, her eyes blank and unmoving when she lights a match and throws it at him, flames licking at his face and his boots and the rich carpet under his feet. His daughters, his darling girls, too young and innocent to deserve any of this, too scared and paralyzed to escape. Nina, his sweet, precious Nina, with ribbons in her hair and sadness in her voice, her lullaby cutting him so deep that he bleeds and bleeds and bleeds until there is nothing left of him.

Nights like these are no surprise to Eyk anymore, and each time he wakes up with a gasp, choking on his ragged breaths and clenching his fists, his palms sticky with sweat. Each time he curses and trembles. Each time he reaches for the bottle. He drinks, gulps, alcohol burning his throat until he doesn’t feel anything at all, until he collapses on the bed and can barely keep his eyes open because of intoxication.

At least when he is dead drunk, the fire in his dreams doesn’t scorch his skin. At least in his drunken stupor he cannot hear his family screaming in pain.

* * *

Sometimes Eyk wonders if he is, quite frankly, a shitty captain. It’s not that he doesn’t know what he is doing, because he does, years of training and decades of experience making sure of that. Yet sometimes, more often than he’d like, he doubts his state of mind, as sleep deprivation kicks in and as he inevitably reaches for a flask in his pocket. His head throbs, because it’s been weeks since he slept properly, and drinking… well, it helps a little. Not that he is proud of it, but if alcohol is what makes him pass out at night and stay awake during the day, he is not the one to question it.

Drinking doesn’t leave him much time for “captaining”, but he is not the one to question that either, even though his crew looks at him funny more and more often.

His new ship, The Kerberos, is a wonder. Gracefully gliding across the waves towards their faraway destination, she is a beauty and a beast in one. He marvels at the ship, wants to do her justice, but the way his limbs hurt after too many restless nights is a lot to handle, and Eyk suspects his crew might be better suited for the job after all.

He needs some air. And he needs it now. He is pretty sure they’ll manage on the bridge without him.

It’s chilly and foggy outside, but at least Eyk can take a deep breath, close his eyes and have a drink that he’s been dying to have for the last two hours. A week. Less than a week even - and they’ll see the shores of America. New land. New possibilities. Perhaps his nightmares won’t be able to reach him there.

A sound catches his attention. Someone runs up the stairs from down below where the third-class passengers are, and Eyk hears light footsteps, as this mysterious someone (who is not even supposed to be here, who do they think they are?) crosses the deck and stops, leaning on the rails. Eyk turns around to see what the commotion is about - and his breath hitches.

There’s a woman. Eyk doesn’t see her face, but by the way her shoulders are shaking he can guess that she is in some kind of distress. A part of him wants to stroll towards her and ask what the hell she was doing down there, while another part of his brain, the part that Eyk fears might be a little bit insane after all, short circuits - because the woman in front of him glows against the clouds, her red hair a stark contrast to the grey skies above. Eyk shakes his head, swallows, closes his eyes. When he opens them again, the illusion is gone, and the woman in front of him is once again just another human being and not some otherworldly creature descended from the stars.

He still approaches her slowly and very carefully, just in case.

(He vows to stop drinking for at least a couple of days.)

“Haben Sie sich verlaufen?” he asks, and he knows that he startled her (“I didn’t see you there,” she answers, and her voice sounds strangely familiar), understands that this is a rather peculiar situation, yet he cannot stop staring at her as she recognises the captain in him, as she defies his rules and refuses to follow the order of things.

He stares, and he smiles, and when she smiles back at him (the smallest of smiles, but a smile nonetheless) Eyk feels like he’s just started assembling a jigsaw puzzle, and the first puzzle piece has miraculously gotten into place.

* * *

He learns her name from the rumours surrounding her. A woman who studied medicine, travelling alone, not particularly talkative and rather aloof. Miss Franklin. Maura Franklin.

Learning her name, finding her on the deck when everyone else is having dinner, talking to her about the depth of the ocean and the mysteries of the universe - all this feels like a missing piece that he’s finally found, and Eyk can’t shake the feeling that no matter what or who they’ll find on The Prometheus Maura is going to be there with him every step of the way.

He is drawn to her, as if mesmerised by her gravitational pull, and the way her hand rests on his forearm, the way she caresses his wrist is the only thing making sense when nothing else around them does.

He trusts her. He confides in her. They question everything, they investigate, and they share the burden of insanity together, trying to solve this bizarre predicament that they’ve found themselves in.

He almost kisses her twice, and with each passing day being close to her and not tracing her delicate features with his calloused fingers is a challenge that’s testing all of his resolve.

* * *

Seemingly endless days on The Kerberos, filled with questions and theories and half-formed guesses - this he can deal with. Nights, however… still, not so much. How foolish he was, to hope that confusion and exhaustion of his crazy days would chase his nightmares away.

In his dreams he is still covered in ashes from head to toe, can still taste soot and misery on his tongue. The only thing that changes is that now Maura is by his side, watching as his house collapses and burns down completely. Eyk reaches for her, and his hand goes right through her, as if she herself is an apparition about to disappear if he dares to blink.

Eyk is scared. His nightmares never scared him like that.

Maura’s head turns in his direction, her neck snapping unnaturally. “Haben Sie sich verlaufen?” she asks, time and time again, her voice mechanical and lifeless, and Eyk covers his ears to get rid of the sound.

“No… no… stop. Maura! Why is this happening? No…”

“Haben Sie sich verlaufen?... Haben Sie sich verlaufen?... Eyk…Eyk! Wake up!”

He wakes up because someone is holding him by the shoulders, pushing him into the mattress. An intruder. Eyk’s first instinct is to grab his assailant’s wrists. He doesn’t like it when people startle him when he is most vulnerable. His attacker winces, but Eyk doesn’t loosen his grip. It takes his eyes several seconds to adjust to the surrounding darkness, and when Eyk sees who it is that he is holding, her blue eyes open wide, staring at him in fear, he lets go immediately.

Maura Franklin moves away from his bedside, rubbing at her wrists.

“Miss Franklin?” Eyk sits up in his bed, confused. Has he forgotten to lock the door? “You are… here.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in like that,” she starts explaining, and Eyk feels relief washing over him when he hears her voice, so different from the eerie voice that she had in his dream. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk, and then I heard…” her eyes dart from his face to the floor. “I thought you were in pain, so I came in, and you were restless. You could’ve hurt yourself.”

Eyk gets out of bed, and she stops talking and finally looks at him. He moves closer to her, one unsure step at a time.

“Forgive me, miss Franklin,” Eyk says, rubbing his neck. “I don’t like being startled. I thought you were… well, not you.”

“Yes, of course,” Maura breathes out, crossing her arms in front of her. She looks Eyk over, doctor mode activated, scanning for any problem or injury. “You were having a bad dream.”

They are standing so close, enveloped by darkness, and it’s only natural for Eyk to reach out and squeeze her shoulder. She is solid and warm, and his hand travels down her arm and up again, her presence grounding him to reality.

“Yes,” he says, his eyes locked on her lips. “I have nightmares sometimes. My family is there. My wife. My children. And I cannot do anything for them.”

He is a moon in her orbit, leaning in, unable to look away. Her face is barely a few inches away from his, and their breaths mingle as the distance between them becomes almost non-existent, but suddenly Maura flinches and draws back a little.

“I’m sorry,” Maura says, shaking her head. “I’d better go.”

“No,” he doesn’t let go, cannot let her go, needs proof that she won’t turn into ashes and smoke and disappear. “Please. Stay.”

Maura hesitates, but doesn’t push him away.

“It’s late. And it’s dark.”

“I know,” Eyk says. “And you are… You are the light. My light. Maura…”

For a moment neither of them speaks. Not a sound, not even a breath. Just silence, heavy with a realisation that scares them both. Maura traces his forearms, holds on to him as tightly as Eyk is holding on to her. They look at each other, their eyes betraying the storm within their hearts, and in her ocean eyes Eyk sees the truth as clear as day.

His lighthouse leading his battle-worn ship into a safe harbour. His north star, his axis, and his home. Maura. It’s her. No one but her.

“Ich gehör’ dir, nur dir allein,” Eyk whispers, cupping Maura’s cheeks and caressing her skin, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. His eyes are closed as he breathes her in, her proximity torturous and intoxicating, and he feels lines forming in between her eyebrows as she frowns in confusion. Eyk knows Maura doesn’t understand his words, but he hopes that she can guess the meaning, that she knows that at this very moment he wants her so badly that he crashes and burns with the intensity of his desire.

Eyk searches for courage to close the final distance between them, but Maura surprises him once again as she beats him to it, kissing his eyelids and his cheeks. She stops at the corner of his lips, and in almost a euphoric haze Eyk realises that she is waiting for him to take the next step.

He tilts his head, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss without any hesitation.

Maura tastes like sweet air on a warm day in early autumn. Like happiness. Like home.

They undress each other in a hurry, his shirt and her blouse, his trousers and her skirt (which turns out to be trousers as well, and he smiles when he kisses her temple, because of course she would wear something like that), his and her undergarments, until they are completely naked, free to touch, to stroke, and to feel.

There’s no need to hurry now, when he hugs her tightly, presses her into his chest, relishing the way her bare skin feels against his. His fingers tread through her hair, scratching the back of her head, and he feels her shivering as her kisses start a sloppy trail up his neck.

He is in no hurry at all, but if Maura continues sucking on his pulse point like that, he won’t last long.

“Miss Franklin,” he utters, trying to keep his tone serious, scolding and teasing her with unnecessary formality. Maura pulls away from him to look him in the eyes.

“Captain,” she plays along, and he smirks. How he managed to lure this brilliant woman into his embrace is beyond him. He kisses her deeply, the need for her singing in his veins, and Maura moans into his mouth.

Bed. Now. Or else he’s just going to push her up against the wall and take her, chivalry and decency completely forgotten.

They are a mess, stumbling and almost falling, but after a moment of clumsiness Eyk leads Maura to his bed, lays her down on rumpled sheets and covers her body with his own.

Maura Franklin underneath him, her lips swollen from his kisses and her red hair tousled on his pillow in disarray, is a vision. His phoenix in the making, the promise of rebirth hidden in the valley between her breasts.

When he finally enters her, she gasps, and they fit like lock and key as he moves in and out, finding the angle and the pace that quickens her breath and makes her eyes roll with pleasure. Eyk rocks into her, listening to her every moan, feeling her muscles tightening around him. It’s both too much and not enough, because he wants their bodies to meld and become one, he wishes to never let go of her ever again.

Like shooting stars, falling at unimaginable speed, they collide and they explode, a supernova washing over them. Eyk makes sure that Maura finds her release first, and the way she moans his name into his ear when she comes is enough to pull him into the abyss with her seconds later.

* * *

It’s a very warm evening for the middle of September, and Eyk yawns and rubs his eyes, trying to stop himself from falling into slumber. They’ve been working non-stop for several hours, and the fact that Maura Franklin, a workaholic who doesn’t know when to quit, is his superior on this project is a cruel joke. He is tired. He is too old for this. He wants to go home.

“Can this wait until tomorrow?”

“No, it can not,” she tosses her words at him without even looking in his direction, too focused on some schematics in front of her.

Eyk huffs and stretches in his chair. Nope, his brain is on overload. No way is he going to stare at codes and digits for a minute longer.

He can stare at her instead.

They’ve been working together for three months, and Eyk figured out he likes watching Maura work. She purses her lips when she is lost in thought. She traces sketches and diagrams with her long fingers when she tries to understand what and how to improve. She mutters words under her breath when she tries to figure stuff out.

It’s almost endearing.

Also, the strands of her hair sometimes fall out of her complicated updo, and Eyk has caught himself thinking of tucking a loose lock behind her ear more times than he is comfortable to admit.

It’s not endearing. It’s infuriating.

“Stop staring at me,” Maura says, and Eyk shakes his head. Shit.

“Wasn’t staring.”

“Uh-huh,” Maura finally looks at him, and he fakes a yawn. He read somewhere that yawns are contagious. Maybe he can trick her into thinking she is exhausted and sleep-deprived.

Maura has none of it, crossing her arms.

“Look, I know you find me difficult, but let’s at least check these calculations, and I’ll be out of your hair until tomorrow, okay?”

“Das ist nicht wahr. Ich hab’ dich wirklich gern, weißt du das?”

“I have literally no idea what you’ve just said.”

“It’s elementary German, miss Franklin.”

“No, it is not! And don’t you “miss Franklin” me, Eyk Larsen. We have less than a week to finish these blueprints, and we are not leaving until we check this one section over here!”

Maura closes her eyes and rubs the bridge of her nose. Yep, she’s tired. High and mighty Maura Franklin is only human after all. Eyk smirks a little and scoots over to where she is sitting.

“Fine,” he says, admitting defeat. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

* * *

When Eyk wakes up, Maura’s head is nestled in the crook of his neck, and her skin is soft and warm under his fingertips as he absentmindedly traces lazy patterns across her bare back. It’s still the middle of the night. They must have slept for barely more than an hour, but Eyk can’t remember the last time he felt this refreshed after definitely-less-than-normal-amount-of-sleep.

Maura stirs and lets out a breath that tickles his collarbone. Eyk watches her as she opens her eyes, a bit disoriented at first, but the moment she tilts her chin up and finds his gaze, she smiles at him softly, and Eyk cannot help kissing her on the forehead.

“Any bad dreams this time?” Maura asks, her hand drawing tiny circles on his chest.

“No, liebling,” Eyk whispers, burying his nose in her hair. “Dreamt of you, actually. A strange dream. But pleasant.”

Maura chuckles. “Haven’t you had enough of me during the day?”

“Never,” he answers, capturing her lips. Maura deepens the kiss, and Eyk is happy to oblige. When they break apart, he holds her closer, his arms encircling her in a warm embrace.

They are real. They are finally complete.

“I need to go,” Maura murmurs into his chest, planting slow kisses right above his heart.

“Do you now?”

“Yes. I have to return to my cabin.”

Eyk sighs. He knows she is right. There are so many rumours surrounding both of them, they don’t need to add more fuel for anyone’s wild imagination. It’s reasonable to part while everyone on the ship is still asleep, to find each other in the morning and exchange simple pleasantries, as if tonight hasn’t interwoven their very souls.

Eyk kind of hates being reasonable right now, but he lets Maura slip out of his arms, albeit reluctantly. He is too tired to get up, so he quietly watches her as she puts on her clothes and pins her hair up, leaving a couple of strands falling around her face. When she’s done, she sits on the edge of his bed and bends down to give him a kiss, and Eyk caresses Maura’s neck and sucks on her bottom lip, drawing a soft moan out of her. He hugs her, drunk on the smell of her all around him.

“Promise me this will still be real when morning comes,” he asks of her, begging the universe to grant him this one wish.

“I promise,” Maura answers, kissing him on the temple when they part.

When she leaves, Eyk collapses back on the bed, sleep overtaking him in a matter of seconds. This time he dreams of astrolabes, of stars and milky ways, and of a red-headed phoenix singing to him and calling him home.

#tv: 1899 #maura franklin #eyk larsen #eyk x maura #my fic #screw you netflix!!!#this is my way of coping

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popopretty · 4 years ago

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BSD Chapter 88

Chapter name is “Like it is tumbling down”.

This chapter is even more shocking than the last one, in a not very good way for me. I’m kinda speechless right now cuz there was no instance that I ever came up with this scenario before. It is a nice twist though, and I’m not sure what to expect at this point any more so hopefully you enjoy this chapter.

(^ This should have been the sweetest scene ever T^T )

Neither English nor Japanese is my native language so I do make mistake here and there. Just me know if there is any part that is unclear or if you spot any mistakes.

SPOILERS AHEAD

- So it is the continuation of the last chapter, where Akutagawa received a fatal blow from Fukuchi. Atsushi freaks but Aku smiles instead and tells him to run away. Fukuchi realizes that Aku is using himself as a decoy for Atsushi to escape. Atsushi got on the submarine and drove it away. Fukuchi wanted to chase after him but suddenly the security guards arrived at the scene (that was the guy whose life Aku spared in like 2 chapters ago). He immediately calls the land to report the situation in front of Fukuchi, which forces Fukuchi to act like he is trying to stop the terrorist. Fukuchi considers cutting into the past and kill the guards to seal their mouths, but stops because they were calling the land on the way before arriving at the scene and killing them at that time can cause the land to notice.

- Fukuchi finds it strange that Atsushi was saved by the “guards who happened to arrive by chance” but then decide that it is okay because there are only 5 days left until his plan happens, and he doesn’t feel the need to hide it anymore. When Fukuchi leaves, the guard looks at Aku’s body and says sorry because what he could do is nothing compared to the favor Aku has given him by sparing his life.

- Atsushi manages to escape and meets with Ango. He doesn’t understand why Aku lets him escape, but he understand that if Aku didn’t keep his promise and kill that person, then he would not be able to escape at all, and all the hopes will be lost. He wonder if it is just a coincidence or is there any important meaning to it. He asks Ango but never gets an answer.

- Back to Aku and Fukuchi, Fukuchi comes back to Aku’s body with a coffin on his back, saying he still has something for Aku to do. He opens the coffin and inside is the last member of The Decay of Angles, the undead Bram Stoker (TN: in case you don’t know he is the author who created Dracula). Bram says he wants to sleep while cursing the irreverent fools, which seems to refer to Fukuchi. Fukuchi replies that it is impossible and grabs Bram’s neck and take him out of the coffin. It is shown that Bram only has his head left, with a sword pierced into it. Fukuchi then explains that Bram used to be a human, a Count, who used his ability to change his body cells and transformed into Dracula. He is weak to the sun and used to be known as one of the ten “plagues of Egypt”. Bram says that he never hears of that nickname until his head was cut off by Fukuchi.

- Fukuchi tells Bram to behave because they are on the same boat anyway, adn that Fukuchi even prepares food for him (he is referring to Aku). Bram looks at Aku’s body and refuses to suck his blood, because ever since he was called a calamity 8 years ago, he has decided not to have any more kins. He says that if Fukuchi wants to burn the world, he should just do it himself. However Fukuchi threatens that he would use the sword that is currently piercing into Bram’s body to burn his brain. Bram cannot go against that, saying it is impossible to curse Fukuchi because Fukuchi is a curse himself. Then he bites Aku.

- A few days later, Higuchi receives a letter. She runs out and find Aku still being alive. She is so happy because they are just preparing for his funeral. She says that she finally understands how much she will regret it if things just end like that without her being able to tell him anything. Then she tries to confess her feelings to him (I supposed) but all of the sudden, Aku turns around, looking completely non-human.

- The scene changes to the Hunting Dog’s base, where Tachihara is reporting the incident. After Higuchi comes back she attacks Gin and Hirotsu, turning them into vampire-like beings. Hirotsu manages to help Tachihara escape but a large number of Mafia members have been infected. The Hunting Dogs discuss on how to stop it but the infection speed is too fast they cannot do anything. The only way is to find the ability user that causes it and kill him. However they don’t know who the source might be. Tecchou is sure that it is ADA’s doing again, as the next step in their terror plan. He says it with such a serious face that Jouno looks very surprised and says he should mark this date on the calendar (lol).

- Teruko says that if it is really caused by ADA then it will be quite troublesome because ever since the live broadcasting incident, there are at least 30% of the police in Yokohama who side with them. Jouno then states that even inside the Hunting Dogs, there is also that “30%” while looking at Tachihara. Tachihara explains that he just feels the need to reinvestigate because the ADA cannot be terrorists. He heard ADA members talk about being set up many times in the Mafia hiding house, but ignored it that time. He says that he made a miscalculation and that the real culprit is somewhere out there. He wants to be given authority to investigate it. All the Hunting Dogs member then look at Fukuchi sitting at the end of the room and ask what he thinks about it.

The chapter ends here. I typed too much again but there are just that many things to talk about in this chapter. Thank you for reading until the end.

The next chapter will be out December 4, 2020.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #spoilers #bsd spoilers #akutagawa ryunosuke #nakajima atsushi #fukuchi ouchi #bram stoker #tachihara michizou #higuchi ichiyo #summary

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ellitx · 4 years ago

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Chapter 13: Fidelity

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to _suucrose

word count: 2.9k

In sun and clouds, the church spire reached into that every stretching blue. It was as if it spoke of the love of the community towards their god, that it too lasted in any weather and called on them to join and put their faith in him.

When Aether and Paimon walked along the nave, the church choir was different compared to the other choirs that didn’t sing hymns. Their voice was almost like angels, high notes soaring over the clouds, graceful notes dancing on the staves, and they sang for the Anemo Archon only.

The two waited to finish their practice before looking for a certain deaconess that might help them gather more information they needed. It wasn’t long before Barbara noticed them and approached the two with a welcoming smile.

“Hello, Honorary Knight. What brings you here today?”

Paimon flew over her and leaned closer for a much better closeness to ask.

“We would like to ask you something about Barbatos!” She exclaimed fervently whilst she placed her small arms in front of her chest. A bright smile was then donned on the deaconess’s face, her blue eyes sparkling in delight at her words.

“Oh! Are you two perhaps interested in serving Mondstadt’s very own Anemo archon as well?” Her tone had an obvious enthusiasm in it. Aether already felt bad that’s not what they were here for, and be that as it may, he still has to prioritize in searching for his lost sibling.

“That’s not the case. We wanted to ask if by any chance the Anemo archon has a lover.”

Barbara’s small pink lips parted trying to utter a single word however a short chuckle was what came from her mouth. It surprised them and was confused if they said something odd. Her delicate hands were now placed on her mouth to stifle her laughs, apologizing in between them, as small tears form from the corner of her eyes.

“Sorry for suddenly laughing. I wasn’t expecting that’ll be your question. But to answer that, there are no stories or mentions if Barbatos had a lover or not in the past. If he did, it would’ve already been written in the books and be sung by the bards everywhere. You celebrated the Windblume Festival, right?"

The two gestured their heads as a yes. "Since you already know it's a festival about love and freedom, wouldn't the Windblume Festival be celebrated for both of them instead of Barbatos only? But just as I have said before, there were no tales about the God of Freedom having a lover.”

Something clicked inside his head though it didn’t last for long as it suddenly fades away like a speckle of dust.

“That’s true…” He turned to look at Paimon who was all troubled and disturbed.

He continued to listen further if there’ll be more clues but it seems like that’s the only information he’ll get for now. His companion looked at him then held her aching head to alleviate the small ringing echoing in her ears.

“Paimon’s running out of brain juice and my head is hurting the more Paimon thinks about this…” The throbbing in her head told her it was time to rest someplace quiet, to ride out the pile of confusion within her brain.

Aether nodded and massaged his forehead in hopes to ease the pain. Why does he suddenly feel so lightheaded? He shook his head and pushed himself forward to carry out his plan on giving the pendant back to you. Words of gratitude were what Barbara received from the blonde and she waved them a goodbye to continue her choir practice with the other members of the Favonius Church.

“Are we going back to the lair?” Paimon asked. Aether hummed in affirmation as they stepped outside of the parish. The harsh sunlight caused him to squint his eyes and cover his face with his arm. Was it always this hot for this season? The sudden change of the climate made him so lightheaded than ever.

Paimon detected how pale he looks as if he’d been painted with white-wash— even his lips were barely there. It was as if his heart had suddenly stopped beating and all the blood had run down into his boots. He swayed just for a moment, then with one step backward, he crumpled like a puppet suddenly released of their strings.

—

Birds trill, sweetly high, the chorus as playful as the birds themselves. With closed eyes, Venti imagined their music to color, painting stairs in the same way grapevines grow - this way and that, in a beautiful harmony that isn't quite random.

Along with your soft humming, it made the ambiance much more relaxing and calm for him. In the calm of the day, his heartbeat is the steady drum to your melody and he seeps into the moment, allowing himself to drown in your beautiful voice.

You rubbed the petals of the red flower between your fingers, watching your skin take on the sunny hue. Venti had spent the entire afternoon lying down on your lap and listening to your canorous tunes that made him forget about everything— as if you two were the only ones in this world with no one to intervene in such a peaceful moment he has with you.

You watched the petal rotate and awed in admiration as a flower’s petal is able to spin like wind wheels.

“Hey, Venti,” You called out to him and peered down to peek at his sleeping face. Your lover hummed in drowsiness before opening one of his eyes to look at you. Dragging the flower close to him, he shifted to get a proper look at what you’re holding.

“What flower is this?”

You’ve always been a curious one. Even before you were in a coma. It’s like you have a passion in you to know every single thing about this world. From small creatures to rare species of beings in the wildlife, anything that catches your interest and you're eager to know more about it.

Your drive to find answers is one of your unique traits he’s grown to love the more he’s with you. You create yourself in that fire of ongoing need that focuses everything that you are. And you do it because it feels as if the finding of the answer is your personal mission, your reason for being, your way of belonging and giving.

It came to him if your curiosity will cross the line. Will it come to you that he’s been hiding his identity from you? Or will you still continue to live life with him in pure denseness? Either way, if you managed to find out he’ll find a way to have you forget what you witness.

For now, he has to be cautious and prevent you from exploring the outside world. Especially if that traveler is around in his land. It’s no good if you meet him. With the help of the humming winds to let him know what’s happening, it occurred to him that he has to just patiently wait and prevent you and Aether from crossing paths.

Venti held your soft hands in his palms and took the flower from you. A small and gentle smile appeared on his face as he leaned forward and pressed his temple against yours, placing the plant close to your chest.

“It’s Windwheel Asters.” He answered and observed how your eyes sparkled in joy when you watched the petals continue to spin.

“I haven’t seen these before.”

Venti lightly chuckled and placed the flower between your hands as he returned to resting himself against you, but this time his head was now on your shoulder. “Windwheel Asters cannot grow in places with no wind nor plagued by strong storms, only where the wind is gentle and nourishing.”

“Really?” You laid your head against his and fiddled with the stem. If these floras are really unable to grow in harsh winds, then it means Old Mondstadt’s storms have truly vanished without any traces left.

Peace and harmony at last.

Freedom is finally with you.

You lifted your hand up against the sunlight and marvel at how simple it is. It may not look as fancy as the cecilias nor does it resemble feathered wings of a dandelion when blown away, but you found yourself liking this more than what Venti had given you.

It’s not like you don’t appreciate his efforts for collecting every cecilias and dandelions in this region to create a wonderful garden for your eyes to fancy with, you still are grateful for it though you do wonder why did he not include these asters in the collection?

“I kind of like this. It reminds me of you.”

Now that made him fully awake.

“Me?”

The color-infused cheeks dimpled with the blossoming smile, your eyes shone in a way that only deep happiness can bring. It was the blush of roses, that peek of champagne pink. Nodding your head to him, you brought the flower close to your face to cover your flushing features.

“You were always fighting for freedom. If it weren’t for you, we won’t be able to see the skies and birds you’ve always wished for. I really admire your perseverance and passion to fight against my father to have the city liberated from his hands. Thank you. Thank you for revolting against him. Thank you for giving everyone freedom they’ve longed for.”

You suddenly felt your throat tightened and your breath hitching every now and then. With your shoulders shaking and chin trembling, you fear he might see you in such a vulnerable state. You lowered your head even more and let your hair cover your face. Even if you hide it from him, Venti can still see small drops of liquid falling from you until it turns into a small puddle on the back of your hand.

“[Name]…?”

“Even though I’m Decarabian’s daughter, you never looked or treated me differently. Even after the war has ended, you never leave me. And now father, mother, and the knight… they’re all gone and y-you survived. You still stayed with me until I woke up… I… I was so scared that once I awoke, I won’t be able to see you.”

You were wiping your cheeks every few seconds and gulping down the lump sitting on your throat. Sniffling quietly, the tears still threatened to spill from your eyes. Your lover gently clutched your hand and used his other hand to lift your chin up to look at him.

Your eyes were red and swollen. It shatters his heart seeing you like this as your tears split over and flowed down your face like a river escaping a dam. Using his finger to dry your damp face, he brushed his lips on your temple and laced your fingers together.

“I should be the one thanking you.” He muttered and brought your intertwined fingers up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand. “Without your support, I don’t know how things would end up. If he— if I hadn’t saved you back then, you’d be locked up in that tower. Things would go differently, wouldn’t they? I can’t bring myself the idea of leaving you there when they were chasing after you.”

He pushed you until your back was leaning against the rough trunk of the tree. His other arm was propped beside your face before he rested his head on your shoulder and nuzzled closely.

“Thank you. Thank you for always being here with me.” Even though his voice was muffled, you can hear him loud and clear through your teary state. A shaky smile came from you as you caressed his hair lovingly before leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him.

“I love you. I love you so much, Venti.”

He has lived long enough to know that what you share he can’t replicate it with another. This love, this feeling, is just you and him. He could travel the world and the seven regions to create new ballads; he’d still come right back at you if he wanted true love.

He has protected you for years, he’s your confidant, a true friend, and even a lover. The trust he gave you, you gave him, is what keeps both of you safe in this world, in this life. So whether his heart beats another day or another hundred years— it’s always yours.

Meeting Venti was more of a coincidence than a fate. Yet it was the first time in your life you felt like you could be yourself around him. Memories of meeting him have become the same as the dream you play time and time again. You felt good with him in a way you haven’t been before or since.

Hearing those three eternal words from you is surreal for him. His heart would beat madly and his stomach churn in such a way excitement and happiness is filling his entire system. He wants to hear from you again.

Just once more so he can finally have you all to himself.

His chest was burning hot and so was his heart that rapidly beats in great euphoria. He can sense your emotions when you cry but this feeling… it’s much more different than he had felt before. A burning desire. He’s so smitten of your entire existence. All words coming from you were all his, he grasps each phrase and corresponds with his own loving and affectionate words.

He was brought out from his trance when he felt how warm his palm is, and it’s when he became aware his hand was now placed on your cheek just like how he brings your hand to cup his face.

Venti felt his face heat up at such a simple gesture and when you give a short and quick chaste kiss on his lips, he recognized the first brightest and sweet smile for this day was painted on your graceful visage.

“I love you.”

His wish was heard when you repeated your confession at him. Is it finally working? Were his efforts finally paid off? Before Ludi Harpastum was the Windblume, a festival where they offer windblumes to their loved ones and to the Anemo Archon. Every year, every time Mondstadt celebrates Windblume, his first priority is to give you cecilias.

He collected them for you every year. He tends them very well until they bloom— until your eyes opened. For him, windblumes are the cecilias. A symbol of elegance, purity, and just as ethereal as your gentle heart. It may be different from what that really means as interpreted by the people of Mond, but for Venti, he feels freedom when he’s with you, he feels loved when he’s with you and it’s the reason why he gathered so many flowers for you while you were asleep.

The arrangement given to him by the former Dendro Archon— she proposed the idea to him to gather flowers for you every time they feast Windblume. He can still clearly remember her words, her voice echoing in his head saying that even she may part from this world.

Her predictions for her own life were accurate. As if she already expected this to happen to her and that’s why she’s planning ahead to list all the preconditions to him to keep you safe and harmless. Barbatos can’t keep relying on her on everything and that is why he put a lot of effort into maintaining the garden.

Yesterday night was the time of the ceremony. Venti prepped everything to make it perfect, he wanted it to be successful. A mimic of a dance he once saw when he and you were together ages ago, it was a secret you both hid but he knows this. Barbatos knows what happened during that time and pretended as if he weren't there.

But now that he was able to dance it with you, one would call him shameless for stealing you from him. The heavy weight on his shoulder was now lifted away, finally free from the guilt he’s been feeling for centuries. His inner battle with himself is fully resolved, inner conflicts vanished, a conflict between his love and longing for you.

Your words eased Venti and made him assured you love him back as well. If you haven’t said a single word about your own feelings, he’d be living in an illusory fantasy that you were only shy to tell him you love him very much. But ever since the bond has been created, all he hears is I love you’s from you for his ears to delight in.

“I love you,”

You repeated once, a faint brush of your lips against his made him shudder. Soft, gentle, and shy just like your personality. Twice when you parted away, grasping how he tastes like apples before meekly leaning on him once more for a kiss but with more vigor. Your hand clutched the front of his shirt when you felt him hold you the small of your waist to pull you against him.

“I love you.”

Thrice was words of tenderness and desire from you to him. At that moment, you felt your body flushed warm. This was a person you wanted to be with than you’d ever felt before.

Venti has always been the one you could love forever.

@trust-the-oxygen

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact venti x reader #venti x reader #genshin impact venti #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere venti #yandere #Illusory Sense #elliwrites

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cthulhuliet · 3 years ago

Note

Hi hi ~~ big fan of your Lawlight work * chef kiss * So, if it serves to inspire you I got this little idea! NSFW A huge hc of mine is that Light loves L reading for him with that hot British accent of his, like come on, L`s dubbed voice with a brit accent??*agressive chef kiss* SOO imagine Light resting his head on L`s lap while L is reading to him and things get lewd in the novel :D maybe things coul get lewd in reality too 👀👀 oh, and another hc of mine is that Light rides D like a pro so ... maybe something with both? if you'd like 👉👈 No pressure at all tho!

Thank you so much for your kind words :') I am a fan of your Lawlight work as well, and even though it took a two weeks or so (my bad) I really hope you enjoy! (it also, as always, turned out to be a lot longer than I meant it).

close your eyes and imagine it

3.1k words | AO3 Link | warnings: explicit content, general kink, you know the drill

Most of the dreams were incomprehensible nonsense, and L had just about given up on the month of April when he saw a long entry that made him pause. His eyes widened at the contents. “Huh.”

Light shifted a little bit to make himself more comfortable, eyes only half open, “Hmm? Find something interesting?”

“I am in this one. Did you frequently dream about me?”

There was a beat, and Light responded coolly, “I cannot remember specifics. Hence, the journal.”

L hummed, a small smirk Light could not see grew on his face, “Well then, I will read this one out loud for your benefit.

The one where Light discovers a dream journal he had written during the Kira investigation and can't help but be embarrassed by L's role in his fantasies. L, of course, does not mind. -

“A dream journal?” L questioned. He closed his laptop and Light smirked, raising an eyebrow, holding the notebook in his hands. L crossed the room and took the journal from Light, “Where did you find this?”

Light shrugged, “On my bookshelf with a lot of my other textbooks and such.”

“How old is this?”

“Was in my late teens, I suspect.”

L flipped through the book idly, Light’s neat handwriting was pleasant and clean compared to L’s own scrawled and messy penmanship. The pages slightly stuck together, as the old notebook seemed to have not been touched in years. L stopped at a page and briefly read the contents and looked at the date, before his own eyes widened.

“Hang on, this is during-”

“The Kira investigation? Yeah.” Light’s slight smirk turned into a large cheshire. “I figured you might be interested in reading what I wrote.”

L bit his bottom lip, looking up at Light, one eyebrow raised, “Does the Death Note still give you nightmares to this day?”

Shrugging, Light came up to L and looked over his shoulder at the notebook, “I mean, sometimes? But I also believe that having nightmares is just a part of being a person.”

“Or you have become so numb to your own murderous tendencies the nightmares do not affect you that much anymore.” L muttered, just loud enough for Light to hear.

He did hear him, of course, and he retaliated by shoving L hard enough for him to fall backwards onto their bed. Light socked L on the arm when he flopped down onto his back as well as L went to read Light’s journal to himself.

“Leave me alone, Light, can’t you see I am busy?” L teased, which earned him another hit on his arm, “You are being bothersome.”

Light crossed his arms, now sitting next to L laying down on the bed, “Those are my dreams, you are not reading without me, obviously.”

“Well then lie down so I can read them to you.” Light was the most frustrating man that L had ever been with. He wouldn’t have him any other way.

L sat up and rested his back against the headboard. Light assumed his usual position and rested his head on L’s lap. L idly put his hands through Light soft brown locks, twirling his soft hair through his fingers.

This was not an unusual position to find the pair in. Light often requests that L read to him, the other man finding the restrained but smooth baritone of L’s voice to be incredibly attractive, but also incredibly calming to listen to. It is not the first time his voice has been complimented, and it certainly will not be the last. Sayu has told L multiple times that he should become a voice over actor. He politely declined. The rest of the people do not matter, really. The only praise he needs is when Light humbly hands him a book he reads before bed, and falls asleep to L’s voice quicker than any amount reading on his own.

“‘ April 1st, 2004: I was present for class at To-Oh university, however we were all forced to give a presentation about when we believe all of our classmates will die and why. This was a horribly dark and drab lecture hall, and I had forgotten my cue cards about why Sakurano Mari was going to die due to dementia .’ This is not exactly a fun read.”

“It was not exactly fun to think about either.”

“I am going to find a different one.”

L used one hand to run his fingers through Light’s hair and the other to flip through the journal, skimming through the contents. Most of the recounts were incomprehensible nonsense, though there is no judgement to be had there. Whenever L does sleep, most of his dreams are disconnected fragments of stories -- feelings and emotions rather than a complete narrative.

L had just about given up on the month of April when he saw a long entry that made him pause. His eyes widened at the contents.

“Huh.”

Light shifted a little bit to make himself more comfortable, eyes only half open, “Hmm? Find something interesting?”

“I am in this one.”

“Are you?”

“Did you frequently dream about me?”

There was a beat, and Light responded coolly, “I cannot remember specifics. Hence, the journal.”

L hummed, a small smirk Light could not see grew on his face, “Well then, I will read this one out loud for your benefit:

“‘ Damn that Ryuzaki. He is plaguing my thoughts not only during the day, but I cannot even escape the damn bastard in my dreams’, I love you too, dearest ,” L sardonically snided. Light pinched his thigh , “ ‘Last night's events were particularly egregious, as this is not the first time something like this has happened, but I feel mortified even writing this down. Though, maybe if I recount what happened (like with the nightmares) these dreams will go down in their numbers.

“‘Ryuzaki and myself were in the library studying next to one another. I was eating a biscotti with tea. As it was in my mouth, Ryuzaki came up and bit off the end of my biscotti and just chuckled at me. I wasn’t sure what to do or say, but I just know I felt really hot an -’”

“L…” Light gripped his thigh dangerously, “What are you doing.” It was phrased as a question, but Light said it as a command. He ignored him. Light was never the one to give out commands anyway.

“‘ I cannot remember much but the next moment Ryuzaki’s lips were on my neck. Everything was fuzzy, but I could feel him biting marks into me and was teasing me by grinding against my di- ’”

Light growled, “I’m taking this away from you. Now.” He moved to sit up, but L’s hand was still in his hair. L gripped his roots harshly and shoved him back down. Light whined at the action, swallowing hard.

“You are not going anywhere.” That was a command, and Light took it as such.

“This is mortifying…” Light muttered against the mattress, his speech breathy.

L hummed and pulled Light’s hair up, forcing him to look at him, “I disagree.” He lied. “You are going to be good and listen to me read this whole thing.”

Light laughed, cocky, though his eyes were glassy with flushed cheeks, “Oh yeah? Or what?”

“Or how about I get to come and you don’t, hmm?” Light opened his mouth and closed it again, face flushed with shame. L let go of his hair and Light buried his head in L’s lap. L smirked and chuckled, “You are so adorable, all blushy and embarrassed…” Light whined at that, running his fingernail down the inside of L’s thigh.

“‘ This is not the first time this has happened, though I have to admit, it was the best incident. Even hazy, I had never felt that sensitive and stimulated. I just wanted to stay like that forever.’” L had one hand on the book, the other held a distracted, but firm, grip in Light’s hair, who was presently biting his lip and running soft strokes over L’s cock. “‘It was even better when I got to put my mouth on Ryuzaki. I have never sucked a dick before, so my brain could only supply what it imagines it feels like, but it was not even that that made it so good. Ryuzaki would hold my hair tight and look down at me while I was on my knees. He kept telling me that I was a slut, but that I was doing such a good job for him. Even before this I thought Ryuzaki had such a nice voice, I wish I could hear him more…’ You think my voice is nice, huh?” L asked, keeping his voice level, as Light’s feather touches became firm palming.

He groaned again, “Tch, shut up.”

“No.” L pulled him by his hair, forcing Light to look him in the eye, “I think it is time you shut up.” In only a few seconds, L manhandled Light and dropped him to his knees on the floor at the edge of the bed. L sat at the end, grabbing the journal with one hand and undoing his jeans with the other. “How many times have you sucked dick since writing this? Hundreds?” Light finished the job of removing L’s pants and underwear, his cock standing erect in front of him, “C’mon cock-slut, show me what you got.”

Light eagerly took L in his mouth, expertly utilizing his tongue on his head. L closed his eyes and tried to not become overwhelmed by the sensation. He opened his eyes to see Light’s cocky doe-eyes staring back up at him.

“What was it that you dreamed of? My hand tight in your hair, fucking your mouth, telling you you’re being a good slut, right?” L asked, rhetorically as he returned his hand to harshly grip Light’s locks. He slowly moved Light’s head up and down, spit dribbled out of the corners of his mouth. Light’s face was blood red with humiliation and lust, it was perfect.

L bit his lip as Light took him all the way down his throat, refusing to be the one to break first. He picked up the journal again, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the work in front of him. “‘ Ryuzaki kept calling me good boy, telling me I was taking him so well, and never had anyone ever made him feel as good as I was. I felt so overwhelmed. I had never felt such extreme desire for anyone, but I think at that moment I would do anything for him.’ Do you still want to hear all that? Still want me to call you a good boy, and tell you you are taking me so well?”

Light groaned around L’s cock, the vibrations from his throat sent a shiver up his spine and L suppressed a needy whine on his end. After years of doing this, Light knows exactly how to push him to the very edge-- to give him so much and yet not enough.

“‘ My memory gets a little fuzzy here, but Ryuzaki laid down on the desk, and he grabbed me by the thighs so hard I think I would have had bruises in reality. I grabbed him by the throat and rode him on the desk. A part of me was worried, because the conference room in the library was all glass, but also my head was so hazy and it felt so good.’” L pressed a thumb against his lips, “Had Light fucked himself on toys at this point?”

He pulled off of L, slowly stroking him as he thought about it, “I think at that time I had. I only realized I was not straight shortly after high school, and my sexual drive moved pretty fast after that.”

“‘Shortly after high school’, shortly after meeting me, right?” L smirked. Light opened his mouth to attempt a retort, but just narrowed his eyes.

“Such an egomaniac you are,” Light scoffed, “Not everything is about you.”

“No, not everything. But this is.” L reached under their bed and pulled out a box of toys and lube. He casually tossed the bottle and a large blue dildo in front of Light, “Stretch yourself open with that. I want to see you.”

“You don’t want to do it yourself?”

“Like you have earned that privilege yet.” L leaned forward (careful to not fall off the edge) and grabbed Light by the chin, forcing him to look L in the eye, “You’re going to open yourself up on that cock, and when your slutty hole is ready for me, you can ride me like in your fantasies.”

He could almost see the blood rushing to Light’s ears-- being literally talked down to-- condescended and scolded like a child. And yet, his pupils were blown all the way out, L barely seeing the amber color of Light’s eyes, and his jeans and underwear were, of course, already halfway to his ankles.

Light took the tip of the toy and fucked his mouth in and out with it, eyes never leaving L’s. He was already 3 fingers deep inside of himself, lewdly moaning around the cock very intentionally.

“This is a good look for you,” L remarked, breathily, slowly stroking his own cock.

Light suctioned the dick to the hardwood, and hovered over it, teasing his hole with the tip, “Well, if you are going to keep calling me a slut- fuck… I might as well lean into it.” Light bottomed out on the toy, one hand running through his hair, another sucking on two fingers as he slowly moved. Light, flushed and fucked out and using himself, was the pinnacle of sex and desire-- L began to question his decision about who exactly this was a punishment for.

“Ngh, this cock is so big , L… But it doesn’t feel nearly as good as yours.” Light dragged his teeth across the bottom of his lip, pointed looking at L’s cock, now leaking precum. Light knew he was getting to L. He knew exactly how he looked and exactly what L was thinking.

Fucker. Two can play at that.

L slowed down his own movements, raising an eyebrow at Light, “A common whore like yourself would be satisfied with any cock inside of him. You want mine so bad? Close your eyes, think…” L held the book open with one hand, “‘ I feel like I am going crazy. I am supposed to want this stupid bastard dead. And yet all I want right now are my hands on him and his on mine-’” Light groaned, finally touching his neglected aching cock, “‘-and it is so hard to focus on bringing him down, when the entire time I am dreaming about Ryuzaki’s voice in my ear, and my hands around his throat, and his tongue and mouth on me everywhere . I may just have to take care of him so I stop feeling this way... ’ My my, Kira... ” Light groaned at the name, “I thought you would be a bit more careful than to let your inner thoughts so out in the open like this. What would have happened if someone had gotten a hold of this?”

“I- Fuck- Academic rivalries are not uncommon....”

“I wanted to sentence you to death and you still could not stop thinking about me inside of you-”

“Oh shit L…”

“-or my hands on your cock or my fingers stretching you wide open. You still want me to whisper in your ear and moan , telling you what a good boy you are, right?”

“Yes… yes I want that L…”

L tutted, “And yet you aren’t a good boy. Desperate and begging… Writing down naughty thoughts and fantasies about someone who you wanted to die?” L shook his head, casually tossing the book aside. He reached for his own cock again, slowly stroking it watching Light fall apart, giving himself dual sensations, “Kira needs to make up his mind about what he wants. Because I don’t think he is good at all.”

“ L please…”

“Please, what?”

“Please let me on your cock.”

“Why would I allow that?”

Light stopped his movements on the dildo, only slowly stroking his cock at the same speed as L was his own, “I am not a good boy, I am a cock-slut for you, and only ever you. Fuck me please,” Light begged, broken and desperate.

L stood up and grabbed Light’s hands, pulling him off of the toy. He brushed the hair out of Light’s eyes and pulled Light on top of him, “So good, Kira. You don’t have to be a good boy for me, you can just be my good slut.”

He kissed L, hard, biting his bottom lip as he lined himself up on L’s dick and sunk down on him.

“ Fuck, you feel so much better than that cheap plastic,” Light straddled L properly, pressing his hands against L’s chest as he rode him, not wasting anytime picking up speed.

“Such a good whore for me, Kira,” L said, kissing his wrist, “You really do ride cock like you get paid to do it.”

“I know,” Light said, breathy and fucked.

L huffed, “A bit cocky, aren-”

“Now it’s your turn to shut up,” Light said, pressing down on L’s pressure points, his fingertips pushing hard enough into his throat it will surely leave marks against his pale skin.

L’s eyes rolled in the back of his head and Light moved his hips faster, L snapping back up to meet his thrusts, which quickly became sloppy as black dots began dancing in the corners of his eyes and his lungs started burning. His eyes welled up with tears and his entire body was on fire, his limbs going limp. He felt the white, hot edge so close and tangible. Every thrust felt like a rattle of electricity hitting every nerve and every part of his consciousness so closely and he just needed more -- Light relented, moving his hands away from his throat. L eyes snapped open wide and he coughed, taking heavy breaths. Tears fell from the corners of his eyes, and he dug his fingertips into Light’s waist, harshly grabbing him by the hips.

“L? I’m sorry, you told me you would tap out if-”

“Kira, more-- again-- now.” L commanded, and Light did not hesitate. He grabbed him by the throat and put his fingers in L’s mouth for good measure. Light was riding him with expert pace and precision, his lower body strength and years of running paying off. L’s legs trembled, and he used the last bit of his unfucked mind to dig his nails into Light’s hips and rock him faster and faster on his cock, reaching that beautiful and terrible and intense edge.

“ Ah- L! ” Light comes only a few seconds before L himself, moaning around Light’s fingers as he loosened his grip, but still only letting a fraction of the air healthy for the human brain into his head.

Light did not move himself off of L immediately. He moved his hand away from his throat, but kept small pressure on his neck with one of his thumbs.

“What are you doing?” L muttered. Light said nothing. L opened his eyes, tapping him. “Light?”

Light blinked, looking back, “Sorry, was feeling your pulse.”

“Why?”

“Wanted to make sure I didn’t kill you.”

L smiled softly, “Don’t want me dead anymore?”

“Sometimes. Certainly not like this, it’s too personal.”

“What, killing me while my cock is in your ass is too close for comfort?”

“Something like.” Light smirked and pressed a soft kiss against L’s lips.

After cleaning up, Light told L he wanted to burn the dream journal to prevent further embarrassment.

“Over my dead body.” L said, holding the notebook just out of reach.

Light smirked, “I have no problem arranging that.”

#my writing #lawlight #light yagami #l lawliet #death note #prompt fills #asks #bored-bitch-stuff #more writing to come!#also I apologize that this is so long and it took so long to write ;-;#but either way!!#enjoy!!

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years ago

Text

The Big Bad Wolf ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Warnings: A bit angsty at first, but otherwise it’s very fluffy

Words: 5092

Taglist: @thelastemzy @kpopgirlbtssvt @a-avaunce @college-is-coming @alecvolturiswifeforever @broskibowser @volturidoll13 @raindancer2004

Summary:

Part 1: Little Red Riding Hood Part 3: What Soft Lips You Have Part 4: And They Have Lived Happily Ever After

Demetri ponders why his mate doesn’t seem to feel what he feels, tries to plan ahead, and makes an important promise to the one person he can no longer be without.

What did she dream of?

When her face scrunched like that. When her body twisted like it was trying to escape or flee or maybe curl closer? When her lips moved but no discernible noise escaped them. When she sighed contentedly.

What did she dream of?

When her fingers clenched into thick wool. When her cheek rubbed the same fabric. When vibrant eyes fluttered behind closed lids.

What did she dream of?

He still had no answer despite years of watching her – at least that was how it felt. He could vividly recreate her face in his mind, from the soft curve of her jaw that gave her face that classic oval shape the Swan Sister’s shared to the iridescence of those big Y/E/C eyes. In reality, he simple hadn’t stopped staring since she sort of collapsed into him, her exhausted body no longer capable of keeping her upright once he used the advantages fate had bestowed upon him to try and calm her from her obviously terrified state. Demetri couldn’t honestly say he blamed her, being afraid of her current situation. The moment she had stepped on the plane his mate had been subject to stares, the probing and malicious kind of looks that only those who thought they were above you could really give. Those looks gave way to open shock and clear, intense dislike when Demetri ushered her into the small booth of the Private Jet, the one reserved for the Higher Guard only.

To add to her worry, Aro had drifted over before long to discuss her change, Caius’s open dislike for her enough to make it clear only Demetri seemed to be overly bothered about whether or not she could endure the transformation. He was determined to make it so, bargaining for at least a night of sleep since the poor thing looked so drained. Her sister was pale it was true but there was something about the bags under her eyes that didn’t sit well with him. Alone, afraid, his mate looked nothing like the strong woman who had spoken out against the injustice her family were facing, and he would have devoted every last inch of himself to seeing her smile if only the timing was right. But he had scared her to, hadn’t he? His reaction to what was obviously a very upsetting scar of all things…

It was the principle of the thing! To think someone else’s venom had entered her bloodstream, that someone else had tasted the alluring wine lingering in her veins! The thought had driven him to near madness as most other things about her had that day. It had started off quite gently, as the mate pull should be he supposed. Her scent had made him pause, watching from a distance as she spied on them with no real idea of the consequences it held for either of them, breathing her in one deep inhale at a time as he tried to figure out why the scent was so alluring – then recoiling in surprise when he realised it was because it was all his favourite scents rolled into something unique and tantalising on the tongue. Curiosity had been the first major emotion, itching at his brain, and when Aro’s impatience had forced him to reveal himself to her, it had been quiet, reverent awe that came next.

Awe that he could have the privilege to gaze upon a creature so lovely, from the red tinge to her cold skin to the soft waves of hair that almost begged him to run his fingers through it. The moment he had dared meet her gaze the world calmed, like a storm had brewed and raged within him without him ever noticing until that moment. There was nothing and no one, not a sound or a directive that could have moved him for the seconds it took the mate pull to thrum in the back of his mind, slowly beginning the momentous task of realigning every instinct and every fibre of his being to her, making her the focal point of his existence. This experience was supposed to be sweet and slow, yet watching her wilt under Aro’s stare, knowing the danger she was in, had only sped it up, fate intervening to ensure he protected what was his so he didn’t lose it too soon. The moment his Master leaned forward he knew well his intentions, and Demetri couldn’t honestly recall what happened next since his body had took the lead and given his mind a backstage pass to watch the show from afar.

“You’ve been out of sorts since you met her. Is the pull that strong or is there something more at play here?” Felix asked, a low murmur that only their little booth would hear. Though they made no effort to be friendly his friends had, at the very least, kept their conversations at a more human volume so she would not be left out. Even if she did not take part in their discussions she was not excluded from them. Demetri reflexively tightened his grip, still unable to move his eyes from her for even a moment. He still felt like he was on high alert, like he was waiting for the enemy to come crashing in at any moment and take her from his grasp.

“Yes Demetri do tell, you’ve fawned over her like one might an infant.” Jane looked thoroughly amused at his discomfort and he made a mental note to pay her back for it later…when he could think straight. Every now and then, she would inhale deeply, curling tighter into the cloak he had wrapped around her before she had practically fallen into his lap, pressing tighter to his body as he held her close. He couldn’t understand it himself. Instinctually she knew, her body just…knew, surely? His scent, his presence, it had calmed her as it should. If her body knew to react to this bond, then why couldn’t her mind process it? Did she actually feel anything? Did she not have any of the confusing, intense emotion that he felt?

No…no it had to be the bite. That stupid, stupid bite. He couldn’t stop seeing it in his mind’s eye. She didn’t feel like his, that was the problem. He held her in his arms and she had come with him willingly but she wasn’t his, not till he erased that venom and replaced it with his own.

“Alec…I have a rather large favour to ask you.” He said finally, looking up at him. The boy tilted his head, silently studying the tracker before he nodded once.

“Then ask.” He invited. Even now he had to fight to keep his gaze on Alec, his eyes already itching to look back down and watch her expressions shift as she dreamed. It would be the last dream she ever had. He hoped it was a pleasant one.

“I need someone with me Alec, I cannot turn her alone…I suspect they know that, that that is my punishment for my disobedience on the battlefield earlier. I would have no one else do it anyway but…Alec if I cannot stop myself, please, I beg you stop me.” Demetri implored quietly. Alec seemed surprised at the intensity of the agony that was conveyed in his eyes. Demetri couldn’t really have explained it either, but every thread of his existence was tied so inextricably to her’s in the space of a few short hours that all he knew was that to lose her would be to lose himself. It had all happened so fast it was dizzying, but slowly the fog was clearing and his way out of this mess was clear. Turn his mate, ensure her safety throughout her newborn year, then they were both home free having proven their loyalty to one another and their coven – whether Y/N was there by a deal or by choice.

“Wouldn’t my gift be more effective at dissuading you?” Jane wondered.

“It would also be a wonderful way of ensuring I bite down and pull her throat out with my teeth.” Demetri pointed out, flinching slightly at the grotesque mental image.

“I can strip your taste. You would not want to keep feeding as it would feel pointless then.” Alec said finally. It was as close to an agreement as Demetri knew he would get and he nodded his gratitude as the jet began to descend. She stirred multiple times, his little human struggling to return to slumber each time she awoke as they moved between the landing strip and the Castle, something not even the warm embrace of his cloak could cure. She was blazing like a fire in his arms but seemed content with the temperature, dozing on his shoulder and then his bed after he left her cocooned there. Since she liked the warm, he made sure to stoke the fire before showering. He stayed under the warm water a long time, mind swirling with a number of burgeoning thoughts he couldn’t seem to shift.

His mate was right in the other room and yet she felt so far away from him. His whole life had changed drastically in the blink of an eye, and the price he was paying felt far too high. Her life was quite literally at stake, hanging in the balance where the only thing stopping the momentum from tipping too far to the wrong side was his self-control. Demetri had only ever bitten with the intent to feed, never feeling compelled to create company given he had never been a nomad and alone. Did he even have the self-control for this? The thought plagued him because that was his punishment, and he knew he had to endure for the sake of Y/N and himself. To lose her would be to condemn himself, yet with Chelsea on their side he was sure if Aro still felt he was of use he would never escape that particular torment.

By the time he had stepped out, dried and changed into something comfier than his official battle uniform, Y/N had slipped out of his cloak to curl up in front of the fire instead. With a pillow trapped between her chest and her knees, she hugged them close and stared into the flames, face half-covered by fabric and eyes red rimmed. It wasn’t difficult to smell the salt lingering on the damp fabric and understand what had happened in his absence. Oh, how his heart broke…

“I thought you were sleeping.” He said. She jumped, furiously wiping at her eyes before she somewhat relaxed again into her original position. She had tied her hair back now, long Y/H/C waves messily scraped into a bun that hadn’t managed to capture every strand. He felt another painful pinch in his chest when she refused to look at him.

“I don’t really sleep.” She mumbled. Demetri frowned slightly, inching closer to test her boundaries. She didn’t say anything, merely let him slip ever so slowly until he was sitting beside her, his knees drawn up so he could rest his forearms on them – and keep his feet away from the fire. They sat in silence for a long while, Demetri counting every painful minute in his head as they ticked by, moments with his mate draining away like sand in an hourglass he could never get back. Why was it so hard to talk to her? Every time he opened his mouth he closed it again almost immediately, not knowing if something he said might set her off or upset her more. What did she speak about to others’? So much to learn and so little time till she was lost to the thirst for a while…

“Forgive me, for the way I acted when we returned to your home. It was…selfish.” He settled on that, a safe enough topic he supposed given it was the only real experience they had shared together.

“Yeah, it was.” she couldn’t seem to bring herself to speak any louder than a mumble. Demetri grimaced a little bit, staring into the fire dejectedly.

“I spoke without thinking, reacted without really thinking either, about the pain that wound must have caused you.” He continued.

“I’ve felt worse pain.” She frowned deeply and Demetri couldn’t help but flinch.

“Such as?” he asked, though the sense of foreboding growing in his gut told him he already knew the answer, deep down. Y/N looked furious with him then, her big eyes turning on him with so much hostility he could have sworn she might have actually won if she lunged to fight him in that moment. The anger and upset that radiated from her bled into him, seeping through the cracks in his calm façade and piercing his unbeating heart. He would have given anything to remove that look from her face, that pain in her chest.

“Such as? Such as! Are you aware that you’ve just taken me away from my family, the people I love, without even letting me say goodbye? Do you even comprehend how much I don’t want to be here? That the only reason I am is because you and me are supposed to be this miraculous soulmate story incarnate when the reality is the only thing you feel for me is utter disgust?” she snapped. Demetri wasn’t certain she knew for a fact she was crying, or how much her words wounded him, but he couldn’t keep the offense off of his face. It was a mortal blow to his ego and his pride, his character as a man, yet as furious as he wanted to be with her he still couldn’t bring himself to be. She was young and hurting, deeply wounded and trying to create a chasm between them where fate wouldn’t allow it to exist in an effort to deal with that hurt.

“I do not feel disgust for you nor was it my choice to bring you here! You made a deal with Aro knowing full well the terms which you were agreeing to. You are the reason you are here Y/N, and so long as you choose to stay with me my every effort will be expended into protecting you from yourself. Foolish girl, can you not see he has us both trapped? That we are both being punished here? My own disobedience may have sped up the arrival of your fate but it is one you readily signed yourself over to.” he hissed.

He hated it. The revulsion boiled and writhed in his gut as he ground his teeth together, his mind buzzing with a thousand other angry words he forced back down his throat lest he make things worse. None of this was right. He shouldn’t be arguing with her like this. They should be happy, shouldn’t they? Happy as everyone else who was lucky enough to find their mate…shouldn’t they?

“I don’t have a choice, and neither did you,” She reminded him, “or clearly you would have chosen less damaged goods.” The air between them was polluted with their anger, their grief, and yet…her voice wavered. The sentence itself was so wrong but the tone of her voice, the way her hand moved to her throat, that pinched expression that suggested she was tortured by her own insecurities, was really what gave it away. How could he be angry at her now? With a drawn out sigh, Demetri scooted slightly closer and turned himself toward her, scrutinising her side profile.

Y/N closed her eyes, no doubt sensing his gaze and wishing it would leave her skin. He reminded himself she was fragile, that his little human would shatter easily under too forceful a touch, and drew his finger beneath her eye with such care it barely touched her skin and did little to remove the tears he wished he could wipe away. They had started all wrong, but it didn’t mean they had to continue the same way. Maybe it was inappropriate, maybe it was the wrong time, but he needed her to know it was something he could move past. He needed her to know that she wasn’t damaged goods, that she wasn’t something he regretted or felt the need to change – at least not in that way.

His fingers clasped around her wrist, afraid to grip too hard but ever so careful in the way he pulled her palm from her throat. Demetri closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to her temple as she froze up beneath him, feeling the icy tips of his fingers brush her delicate throat. Her pulse hammered beneath the pads of his fingers, blood rushing beneath her paper-thin flesh…

“Relax, trust me.” He whispered, tracing the indents of teeth in hardened flesh. He didn’t feel quite so angry about it this time, though he couldn’t say he was thrilled by it either. Demetri exhaled slowly, held his breath, and dipped his head a little lower.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, jerking her head backward. She didn’t move out of his grip though and there was the slightest hint of fear on her face. Demetri shook his head.

“I will not harm you,” he vowed, moving slowly so as to give her time to move away again, “You are not broken goods Y/N, and the way I see it I _did _choose you, though not consciously perhaps not consciously. Your very soul reached out to mine and I accepted what I knew would be best for me. You were never a choice, you were a necessity.” His bold words had left her utterly stunned and she didn’t fight him at all as he placed his lips over the marred flesh of her throat. He placed two kisses against that scar that brought them so much pain, just two, but it was enough to set them on the right path this time. Demetri pulled his head back, watching her carefully as she stared at him in utter astonishment. His head had cleared, his mind set right; he had never been as certain about anything in his life as he was about Y/N, whether the rest of the world was against them or not.

“But you said…you said your only hope was to…” she looked so confused in that moment it almost made him swoon. How adorable she was when her nose scrunched like that! He could watch the expression all day, but she needed an answer.

“What I said remains true, I have every plan to change you in the same way in the hopes I might not have to remind myself another ever dared lay a hand on you, but there will be contingencies to ensure I do not fail and you are safe. All that matters to me now is that I succeed in this endeavour.” He confessed, settling back against the sofa’s edge once more with a quiet sigh. The silence that followed was far more comfortable than the first one, something more companiable in the air between them. He was pleased she scooted a little closer to him so they could watch the flames together, their crackling no longer drowned out by the exchange of angry words. He wanted to ask her a thousand more questions, get to know her, but there would be time enough for that later on. For now he wished only to bask in this silent moment where things felt more right between them than they had since they met.

“They’re hoping you’ll kill me, aren’t they?” her quiet voice broke that silence a few hours later, as the sun was starting to set in the sky and night fell over Volterra. She was running out of time and Demetri wasn’t sure when that had begun to bother him to this extent, but the room was going to feel so empty without her heartbeat to fill the quiet.

“Yes. I believe that that is my punishment to endure for my disobedience.” He agreed, voice equally as quiet as he turned to look at her. He couldn’t remember when she had placed her head against his shoulder, but she lifted it now to meet his eyes.

“You didn’t do anything wrong though, I did, my mouth got us both in trouble.” She frowned. Demetri chuckled ruefully.

“Your mouth will get you into trouble for a while yet I believe, but my own impudence in placing myself between you and Master Aro was equally as displeasing to them. I wilfully subordinated your sentencing in front of many witnesses outside of our coven, after all.” He grimaced. He would change nothing about that moment, he had decided, not when it brought him so tangibly close to forever with his mate. It was right within his grasp now, an eternity of being fulfilled, happy, of having a purpose beyond the walls he once held so dear – he had something new to protect.

“So…they want to punish us both then…and being an out of control newborn is only going to make it worse for both of us.” She mused, though she didn’t seem in the least bit concerned. In fact, if Demetri had to guess, she was rather looking forward to the chance to raise a little hell within their walls. He was as worried and exasperated by the idea as he was amused by it.

“Indeed it just might, though I promise not to let you get too out of hand.” He nudged her lightly with his arm and she giggled, the sound absolutely melodious to his ears. He almost begged her to do it again purely so he had a better chance to commit it to memory, something to keep him company while she endured the change and reminded him of the better times to come. Finally, it felt like he had done something right…now he just had to keep that sweet smile in place.

“You promise huh? Way I see it, its a bit us vs them right now isn’t it? If they can be so unfair to you of all people…” she trailed off. Demetri felt his own smile fall slightly, his expression somewhat vacant as he pondered the accusation. In truth he did feel somewhat betrayed. Chelsea had actually threatened the Masters’ when she first brought home Afton and they wanted him killed, yet she received no punishment, so why had he? He was protecting what was rightfully his after all, someone he could never be truly happy without again. What was so wrong about it?

“Us and them…”he echoed, the thought both perturbing and…thrilling. She hummed, suddenly pushing up onto her knees beside him, eyes alight with fierce determination.

“You’re making a lot of promises but there’s nothing to say you’ll keep them so…lets make a real promise, right now.” She instructed. His eyebrows rose slightly.

“In my day and age when a man gives his word it is an ironclad contract little one, the breaking of which eroded his position in society and status as a man.” He replied slightly insulted. Her head tilted.

“Well we’re not in the Bible era anymore so…” she shot him a devilish grin as he snorted and feigned an offended expression, “It’s a real simple promise. Since we’re supposed to be the next Gomez and Morticia, and we’re clearly the only ones willing to see if that can work out, then I say we promise right now it’ll always be us against them. Hell, it’ll be us against the world if we need it to be. Whatever we do…we back each other up.” She proposed, offering her hand to him. Y/N extended her pinky but left her other fingers curled in, and Demetri wasn’t too sure what exactly was expected of him as he mulled over her words.

They felt right. Wasn’t this what the mate bond was supposed to be? Someone to always support you? Protect you? Someone to always have your back? If not his mate then who? Maybe the Masters’ who would so readily forsake his happiness weren’t the best choice of allies…

“Though I do not know what half of your speech actually meant, I can promise you this. Whatever we do, we back each other up.” He agreed, offering her his hand in the hopes she’d guide him through this next part. Demetri couldn’t honestly say he had any clue what was so different about this handshake and how it was any more significant than any other, but as she looped her pinky through his and shook his hand he couldn’t help but smile. With a firm nod and a sharp exhale, she suddenly reached down and pulled her jumper off with a flourish, revealing an expanse of pale skin and a wonderfully bright blue lace bra Demetri struggled to look away from as he choked on the air he was breathing.

“Okay so first step, you turn me.” She seemed completely unbothered by her partial nakedness, even when he struggled to stop the venom pooling in his mouth and his fingers from reaching out to drag her closer. She looked entirely confident in him and though he wanted to be flattered Demetri had his mind on very different matters in that moment.

“I – you – Alec is going to- to help.” He choked out, eyes wide and completely fixed to her chest. She visibly lost some confidence then, a beautiful, vibrant shade of red painting her cheeks as her arms came up to cross her chest with a squeak.

“O-oh. I…I th-think I need a shirt then?” she sounded almost as strained as he felt and with a quick nod he dashed to his closet to find her something appropriate. He dutifully kept his head turned away while she buttoned up one of his shirts. When she cleared her throat to let him know he could look again she was still blushing brightly, and Demetri managed a slightly strained smile.

“So er…Alec’s room is just down the hall, er…shall we?” he asked, offering her his hand.

“No need, I heard my name and decided to drop in.” Alec’s voice was smooth as ever but there was an underlying hint of mischief there that made Demetri tense, and it wasn’t until after the deed was done that he dared speak his mind.

“How much did you see, Alec?” he didn’t risk looking at him, not wanting to see the shit-eating smirk he was sure was going to be on Alec’s face. He focused instead on cleaning the blood from her skin and ensuring she was comfortably resting upon his sheets. She started to twitch a bit, a pained grunt escaping here and there as Alec’s mist retreated from them.

“What I did or didn’t see is of no consequence…though I think you’re in for an interesting life if she’s as willing to undress herself for you after the change as she was before it.” His cackling could be heard down the hall as he fled from the room before Demetri could hit him, the tracker closing his eyes and counting to ten before deciding he could let it go for now. He had much bigger things to attend to after all. He had never been one to fuss too much over little things, but suddenly the sheets on the bed were not tucked in enough, the curtains letting in too little or too much light, the air in the room too stale and then too full of scents when he opened the window. There was no such thing as perfection and yet, as she burned, Demetri strived for it.

It felt worth it though, when she finally opened her eyes. It was rather amusing to him to watch her take it all in, the thousands of different smells and the way they tasted in the air, the shimmer of her skin, the speed with which she had sat up and moved. Demetri almost envied her when she finally locked eyes with him, the minute way the vivid red irises widened and the soft gasp that escaped through parted lips telling him she too had felt that momentous pull realigning her entire being with his own – he wished he could experience it again. She approached him with such caution it was almost comical, and Demetri was the one to reach for her first. She jumped at his touch but quickly relaxed into it, letting him hold her hand and squeeze lightly.

“This feeling…”she whispered, her own voice startling her with the musical notes it now contained. Her fingertips traced soothing patterns against his palm and Demetri held back a contented sigh, too enamoured with watching her explore the new feelings and beginning to understand his position in all of this.

“Intense?” he guessed, lifting his free hand to push back some of her hair. The slightest of scars remained where he hadn’t quite managed to cover Riley’s teeth marks with his own, but the majority of it was gone, sealed over with the same venom that had stopped her heart and ensured she would hand the organ and all it contained to him. She nodded distractedly, following his hand with her head until he caved and cupped her cheek tenderly with a low chuckle. His thumb stroked her cheek lovingly, his heart bursting in his chest. She had done it, his mate had defied them all with a little help and now…now there was nothing more for them to do than enjoy eternity.

“Is it forever?” she asked innocently, looking up at him through her lashes. Demetri pulled up the hand that was holding hers, lacing his fingers through her own and leaning down to press his forehead to hers.

“Always and forever little one, it’s us against the world.” He promised. Their noses brushed as her head tilted, pushing forward and pulling back as if trying to decide if she should or not. Demetri decided for her, meeting her halfway and letting their lips meet in the first of many sweet kisses to come. He had never tasted her blood thanks to Alec, but he was sure now that if the boy had failed at his task he certainly would not have been able to stop and his mate would not have been standing before him, sweet and alive and willingly walking into his embrace. The taste of her was sublime, addictive even, and he knew he’d never tire of kissing her. Though she’d need to learn to be a little more careful with him first.

A/N: Usually I wouldn’t do this but I tried a few new things here today I’d like some feedback on please! How do you like the taglist? Should I keep it? Add anyone to it? Take anyone off it? And how do you like the idea of a gif or a picture (when I can find them) to brighten up the post a bit? All that’s left to do now is rejig my Masterlist a bit...Thanks for reading folks.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #demetri volturi #swan sister reader #demetri volturi x female reader #volturi #felix volturi #alec volturi #part 2 #request #honestly this ending just spilled out of me #so fluffy

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hndcrm · 4 years ago

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47 and Diana are in the safehouse in Berlin. As night falls 47, plagued by his newfound memories, can't sleep. He wanders through the house and discovers Diana snores and talkes in her sleep. What will he do about it?!😏

I have made this so much angstier than the prompt calls for im so sorry my brain only provides pain apparently

He was glad to have his memories back. There was no denying it. It was liberating to know the events of his life in order, to have them fade back into something understandable as opposed to the blank, cryptic void from before. Some were better than others, memories of his and subject 6’s friendship, of the rare times he’d been able to sneak away with his bunny before its untimely and cruel murder.

Despite this, the memories were overwhelmingly bad, and none quite as pervasive and frightening as the car bomb in 1989.

He was the one to trigger it. It was a mission like any other at the time, he hadn’t thought much of it. Simple. Two targets, Peter and Nancy Burnwood, their daughter considered acceptable collateral damage. In the end, there was no collateral damage and perhaps that’s the only comfort he takes from the memory, that he didn’t kill her, that he was lucky enough to have her alive today. It’s not comforting because he knows she will leave him as soon as she finds out. He can’t blame her. He’s the one responsible for her involvement in everything bad in their world. He killed her parents, changed her life forever, ruined it without a second thought at the time. He recalls with tears in his eyes how she was there, how she was present when he set it off, that this innocent child had to witness the violent death of her parents. He’s hurt Diana irreversibly and she will hate him forever if she finds out.

Even throughout his career with her, he often pondered morality and his own goodness. Diana became his conscience and urged in private that he wasn’t evil, promised him that he was worthy of kindness and love. He wasn’t sure even then how much he believed her. He trusted her, however, so he did not question the assertions.

He knows she was wrong now. She deserves to know the truth, but it would result in her disappearing from his life, and he’s sure he would die without her.

And now, he cannot sleep. He stares out of the window in the living room and watches the night sky, silently bets on how long it will be before he turns to alcohol for comfort.

There are soft snores coming from Diana’s bedroom. He gulps. The door is tilted open.

The scene before him is like some practical test of his character and self-control. He could come in and watch her sleep, just for a few moments. It wouldn’t disturb her and she would never know, and he could memorise the details of her face, add to his mental depiction of her before she leaves him, imagine what it could be like to hold her like this if they could ever be this intimate together. He could pretend to be one of the few lucky men who have been able to truly witness this, to be able to say they’ve had the pleasure of sleeping next to Diana Burnwood herself.

Or he could do the right thing and close the door, minding his own business as a professional work colleague should, though even that description is generous towards him after what he’s done. He is evil.

Diana says he is good, but he knows she’s wrong. If he were good he wouldn’t want to come in and see her right now.

It’s late and he cannot sleep, he thinks the guilt will swallow him whole if he does not distract himself. He deserves nothing to do with her, deserves to die by her hands a million times over and rot in the deepest circle of hell, but now, watching her silently while she sleeps does not seem so sinful in comparison to the pain he has caused her.

He pushes the door open enough to slide inside and tilts it closed.

The moonlight peeking from behind the curtain streaks across her ribs and reminds him of a bullet that he was responsible for. He feels sick. She deserves so much better.

She’s tangled in the sheets, hair flamed out around her face, and instantly there’s an urge to run his hands through it, to move it off her cheek and behind her ear.

She looks delicate. He knows better than to think so improperly of her, ‘delicate’ is an insult when she is a force to be reckoned with and could kill a man with her sharp-tongued nature alone, but there is no denying the more physical aspects of her beauty when she’s sprawled out so ravishingly. Her upper lip is carved down carefully, brows furrowed slightly, bosom caressed by her silk nightgown and her hands elegantly tangled in the sheets, like a scene from an ancient erotic painting, beauty that could only be appropriately captured by a lover.

She stirs then, and he holds his breath, terrified that he’s awoken her with his selfishness.

She hums something incomprehensible, and the thought that she might sleeptalk scares him. He should leave. Diana trusts him, she does not hide from him. If what she dreams of is something he already knows, there’s no use invading her privacy. If what she dreams of is something he is not aware of, then he should stay clueless, respect her choice to keep it from him and leave, pretending he was never here.

He decides to do the right thing. He pads towards the door.

He’s stopped in his tracks when he hears her moan his name. He can feel his face heating up. He’s evil for having ever come here in the first place. How can he disrespect her so cruelly?

Curiosity turns him around, as he tries to picture the shape her mouth might take when she moans his name, but there is little left to the imagination when she does it again, quieter, and the sight is somehow more erotic and vulgar than anything he’s ever seen, he feels his trousers tightening.

He knows she doesn’t really want him like this. Dreams don’t reflect reality. Perhaps she thought of him crudely once, and he was lucky enough to catch it, but it was a one-off because she must know she deserves better than him.

He’d be more than willing to play out her dreams in reality. He couldn’t, of course, bring himself to ever actually do it. Their shared intimacy exists purely as a fantasy in both of their imaginations.

He’s grateful for his trained stillness as he’s about to leave again, determined that he’s long crossed a line. He must go if he ever wants Diana to think of him neutrally, at least. If she wakes up to see him standing before her so improperly she’ll know of his vile nature before he reveals it.

As he’s something like a metre away from the door, he sees a frustrated Olivia rub her eyes and grumble ‘fucking Burnwood’, then she slams the door in front of him before he can escape and he panics as he’s stuck in a deeply compromising position. The door is too squeaky to risk opening again, but it’s too late, for when he turns around to look at Diana, she’s awake, rubbing her eyes and squinting in the dark. He prays she doesn’t see him.

“47? Is that you?” She calls out, and he freezes. He could still leave. She would know he was here, but it would save him the embarrassing conversation until the morning at least, or maybe, hopefully, she’d forget. “What are you doing here?” She sits up in bed, a strap of her nightgown falling down her arm. The usual excuses for trespassing won’t cut it. I got lost, he thinks sourly.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He starts. How much of the truth should he reveal? Lying to her feels wrong, he knows she knows him too well for it. “I heard you talking, I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Oh.” Now she turns red. “Well, I’m quite alright.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. He nods dumbly.

“Good.”

“And 47,” she adds then. “What did you hear?” She does a good job of playing off her voice crack, but he can sense the fear in her voice - fear he is responsible for. Why wouldn’t she fear him when he disrespects her like this?

“It was nothing - I didn’t understand anything.” He lies. He must lie to make her feel better. He shouldn’t have come in in the first place. She plays with the strap of her nightgown. He wants to leave but she looks so worried. Guilt greets him again.

“You’ve been avoiding me lately.” She says finally, chest rising in the familiar pattern she uses to calm herself down. “Is everything alright?”

I yearn for you, he thinks. It’s true. The thought tastes disgusting on his tongue.

“The serum. The memories-” he begins, but the following words don’t come. He doesn’t know how to tell her the truth. He doesn’t want to. She furrows her brows together and looks sadly at him.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Diana gives him a lopsided smile. “If you want to talk about it-”

“No.” His voice sounds harsher than he intends. She cannot know.

He leaves. Another night is spent alone on the cold leather couch, thinking of her in the dark. Eventually, guilt takes over and he cannot bear to think of anything, so he opens a lager and drinks himself to sleep.

He wakes up to find himself covered by a blanket in the morning, and Diana sitting in an armchair next to him. He gulps.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she sighs. He shakes his head, mutters a protest, but the memories of his actions flooding back terrify him. He’s been awful.

He sits up. She hasn’t done anything wrong, and the shame painted across her face makes his insides twist with guilt. He doesn’t deserve to touch her, but all he can think of is comforting her, so he reaches out tentatively. Immediately she smiles at him and wraps her arms around him. It’s unfair how good it feels, how their bodies seem to fit so well together, and she’s innocently on his lap in his embrace, unaware of how many nights he’s spent fantasizing about this. He deserves none of it, he knows.

“I’m sorry, Diana.” He almost sulks into the warm skin revealed by her bateau neckline.

“Whatever for?” She whispers, and he aches again. He can’t tell her.

“I love you,” he whispers as the tears run down his cheeks and he wonders if she can feel them on her neck. It comes out instinctually, and he regrets it immediately. She doesn’t answer. He prays she won’t think anything of it. He’s pathetic. “I’m so sorry.”

They don’t speak of it again, and he spends every living second praying for her forgiveness, for when she eventually finds out.

When he knows she knows, it’s too late for him, and he’s glad she’s killed him. He spends his dying moments craning his neck up to ensure she’s his last dying image. He hopes Edwards will be kind to her.

#hitman #diana/47 #diana burnwood #agent 47 #hitman fic #fic requests

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thegoldenreport · 4 years ago

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MIND BENT

Pretending to be someone else is easy, especially when you’ve been doing it your whole life. Amber-Eye 098 is an top tier imitation artist from the Southern Moon district, who has almost twelve years of experience under her belt in deceiving the general public for fun.

She recently sat down with Golden Report executives to share one such experience - how she managed to infiltrate Jatty’s Candy Cave and impersonate the titular owner, while remaining undetected for three months.

If the name of “Jatty’s Candy Cave” doesn’t ring a bell for you or stir up a primordial urge to vomit, we highly recommend an appointment with your local re-education services to rectify the issue. But in the mean time, we’ll ask you a very simple question, what’s really in their candy?

Or to put it in a different way...

Are you meant to be seeing the buzzing, glitching, oozing shadow that stands in the corner of your room at all times?

…

AE098: Whenever I approach a new character, I choose to look first at their environment. Their people. You can tell a lot about how a person is supposed to act just by looking at their people.

Jatty’s Candy Cave, for example, is housed in a very elaborate sewer system underneath the inner city of West Logos. Jatty doesn’t voluntarily share this information, but somehow makes sure her customers spread it like the plague. She wants to be known far and wide, yet continues to stay hidden. Chosen isolation perhaps as a method of retaining control? A walking contradiction nonetheless.

Sending several camera flies into the underground system confirmed she didn’t work alone. A personal assistant named Rael followed her every beck and call. Visuals showed him to be a funny little man who changed his aesthetic and vocal inflection on the daily. Though tended to favor anything revolving around a space or astronaut theme. It was a good thing I wasn’t stealing his identity.

Jatty, on the other hand, donned an a-line purple skirt, skin tight black turtle neck, dark green combat boots (which just so happened to be the same shade as her nefarious chemical ingredient, zeroX), and a pair of velvet back gloves that extended her fingers into claws.

Unlike Rael, she wore this suit on the regular and showed no signs of switching it up. Which of course made things ridiculously convenient for my costumes associate. She does such a sublime job at matching garments down to the very fabric and shade. I had nothing but confidence in her work.

I remember spending long evenings in her sewing shop, top floor of the special ops building. Trying on the boots and pacing around the floor. Feeling out the walk of, shall we say...a potential murderer? An ill advised chemistry enthusiast? Mad science extraordinaire? I wouldn’t know for sure until I became her.

Everything is a performance. Everyone has a good side. Everyone loves to act for the camera that isn’t even there. You may be wondering why we even go through the trouble of full body espionage if we already send in a hundred camera flies to wire tap the place. To that I say again, everything is a performance. The name of the game is not just tearing down the curtain, but walking backstage. The one place a camera refuses to go.

Further audiovisual input revealed her voice to be low and musky, like she constantly had to be clearing her throat (of her own toxins, perhaps?). We had vocal modifier pills that could mimic this effect. And her walk was always brisk in comparison to the slower moving factory workers. She was a being in motion, a blur that could not stop for more than a few moments at a time. And it wasn’t just an urgency to it, but a nervousness, a real fear. I was excited to discover more.

In the days leading up to my deployment, special operatives performed what we like to call a body snatch. Methodically extracted in such a way that Jatty would not even think to deny leaving with us. We offered an opportunity, intentionally vague, but sweet enough to seal the deal. Or that’s how it started.

In reality, we slipped a sleeping agent into her water glass, while discussing terms in the late hours of the evening. I’m not entirely sure where they took her, but by that point, I was ready.

MEETINGS

This is the word I would use to describe my first month in character. I remember the night I slipped into her office chair, torn faux leather at a cherry red mahogany desk. I remember the stickiness of said office chair. I remember pouring through her journals, her agenda books, her middle school science books. She was a being on the move, constantly meeting with someone. But for what?

One such meeting that stook out to me was with a blue deer handler, and only in my second week of deployment. I had read about this particular blue deer. And the sweet nectarine like flavor of it’s blood. Our conversation was brief, speaking about his latest harvest for the factory. He had come across a surplus, could give more this month than before. I was immediately suspicious. Could this blood contain the hallucinogenic properties I had heard about?

Unfortunately, the answer was no. Can confirm. I tried it myself.

It was however the main component of almost all their candy’s flavor profile. But I couldn’t have cared less about the flavor.

CHEMICALS

My second month felt the most comfortable. No one had yet raised a suspicious eye towards me, save for a few factory workers who I quickly disposed of, as per my training. I had gotten used to the endless walking. Learning to digest informative material while on the go. Like all those mad scribbles in her middle school science textbook. Keeping all conversations either short or long depending on what the situation called for.

I had internalized every type of candy we made in the Cave. The pipes hissed. The air smelled like swamp water. The work room was a mental prison of blood, sweat, and flickering lights. It was here that I learned the ingredients. That I tasted the fruit for the first time. Although I was pretty good at pretending I had done it many times.

She must have built up a tolerance to the drugs they use if she does this on the regular.

The candy I tried was called Vox. A lime green sucker that slowly turns into goo as it melts in your mouth. The color is deceptive. One might expect it to taste like an apple or even a lime. It tasted like salted butter.

This particular candy among many others contained a key ingredient known as zeroX: an opaque, thick, dark green almost black liquid at room temperature. Meant to be highly addictive. Meant to simulate an adrenaline rush. Meant to make the whole body shiver. The eyes dilate. The palms sweat. You feel like an imposter in your own skin. You believe that the voices on the radio are talking directly to you. The paranoia crawls deep into your brain, filling the space behind your eyes.

But you don’t hallucinate.

Can confirm, as I locked myself in the chief office and rode out it’s side effects on the wave of a panic attack.

SECRETS

In the middle of month 3, we received a mysterious package from a tall man in a black trench coat. My assistant Rael brought it to me at my desk, during one of the few times I had felt comfortable sitting down. He seemed to know exactly what it was. And assumed I also knew.

It was a black box, no seams or openings, no buttons or lights or switches. The only thing of note was a silver etching of an eye marked out with an X. It was a symbol that made me shudder. I had seen it all over the textbook. I had seen it plastered on every police car and above every government building. It’s a symbol you should all know. That was the first secret.

Our own leaders were in on it. Turning a blind eye.

That was the beginning of the crack in my facade. That little pause. That miniscule choke before my answer. I noticed a glimmer of something in Rael’s eyes. Confusion. Doubt. Suspicion. Patrons not trained in this artform might miss a cue like that, but I knew I had to begin my extraction.

A week later, I exposed my taste to zeroC. One of two chemicals they used as zeroX was designated for hard candy and zeroC for soft. Only five percent of their production contained soft candy. They don’t talk about zeroC. They mix it under tables or in dark corners of the room where the light doesn’t touch them. Which leads to the second secret.

The black box was zeroC, ground up like powder to be mixed with the syrup.

I had been reading about this less popular ingredient written upside down between the lines of Jatty’s incredibly weathered textbook. Similar to the effects of LSD or DMT, but extremely more potent and infinitely more long lasting. Made with the same blood of that fantastical blue deer.

I was fearing the inevitable. My weekly tasting of the newest batch. I could not fake it. All the workers lined up to stare at me at I sat before their production table and consumed their poison. There are some things you simply cannot fake before that many eyes.

I felt the sweet juice explode in my mouth as the candy’s skin broke between my teeth. I swallowed with all the confidence of returning to my office to take a shot of my emergency counteractive medicine.

I immediately started to cry. A side effect I was not expecting. The emotion swallowed me as they all stared. Some perplexed. Some, dare I say, satisfied? I stumbled through the hallways. Rael chasing after me with a clipboard. I didn’t turn to look at him. Escaped to my office, shut the door, and locked it. Which brings me to the third and final secret.

I had been fooling no one. They knew.

Sitting behind the cherry stained mahogany desk was the real Jatty, holding the shattered remains of the syringe, which contained my antidote. Ice blue eyes magnified by the chemicals coursing through my body. Her glare pierced through my skull. I don’t know if she escaped, if I was set up, or if my extraction was on short notice. My supervisors have neglected to tell me.

But as I was there with knees buckled and tunnel vision, I saw the black shadow of a hand appear on her shoulder and she whispered.

Don’t forget this. You people have no control.

I blacked out after that. My supervisors came to collect me after some time. I felt their arms wrapped around me as they dragged me out, slipping in and out of consciousness. Unable to process the shocking and also very strange things I was hearing.

Something about not keeping the deal. Something about craving orange juice. Another thing about an early return. And another thing about wombats in space.

I was in recovery for three weeks afterwards while our physicians on hand constructed an antidote. The hallucinations have stopped, but the paranoia is still palpable. They offered me a mind wipe pill, asked me if I wanted to forget.

I told them it was impossible.

#the golden report #issue two #unreality #paranoia #drugs #original #storytelling #hallucination #delusion #let me ask you this #is this the kind of exposure you wanted?#jatty's candy cave

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max-is-tired · 5 years ago

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Magic Mirror (Mirror’s Magic) Chapter 1

Pairing: Romantic Royality

Characters: Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, various OCs

Words: 5.002

Warnings: angst, blood, war, crying, magic, loneliness

Notes: Welp, here it comes! This is part of my fic for the TS Big Bang 2019! Or at least, it should have been -as I said, I haven’t quite managed to finish writing the whole thing, so I can’t post it all today. But I still wanted you guys to see it by the end of the month, so here we go, everyone hop on the angst train!! :D

Hit me up if you want to be added to the taglist and let me know if you liked this, reblogs, comments and asks are always very welcome and much appreciated! And if you would consider buying this broke college student a coffee (link in description) you’ll have my eternal gratitude and a thank-you ficlet of your choice, so there’s that.

(This story is heavily inspired by two Vocaloid songs. This chapter specifically is inspired by this cover of Rin’s Magical Mirror, by SirHamnet)

Commission me!!

Read on AO3

Go check @keuwibird‘s amazing art for this fic here!!!

First || Next

Sometimes, Patton finds himself dreaming of laughter and happiness, of sunny days and chirping birds. He dreams of a faraway land, untouched by war or famine, by misfortune or death.

He dreams and dreams and dreams, running through endless fields without a care in the world.

Those are the times when waking up hurts the most, when the memories fade away and all that remains is nothing but pain and an ache where his heart should be.

On days like those, it’s difficult to remain optimistic. Memories linger in the back of his mind, echoes of his old life filling the small wooden cottage he now calls his home.

On days like those, when Patton looks in the mirror, all he sees is a tired boy with blue, dull eyes staring back at him.

(Sometimes he wonders what his mother would say, if only she could see him now -his hair a mess, scrapes and dirt covering his body, his clothes reduced and nothing more than rags. She’d probably go full mother-hen on him, he muses with a small smile. Then he closes his eyes and shakes his head, locking those thoughts in some dark corner of his mind -he can’t think of her, of his family, of what he has lost and will never get back. If he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to get back up again.)

Today, though, Patton can’t help but wish it was one of those days. He wishes his dreams could have been filled with bittersweet happiness, with long lost smiles, with the faces of those he had once loved most. Anything, but the memories of that cursed day.

An explosion, that’s how it starts.

Screams, yells, the clashing of swords and shields filling the halls of the castle, blood splattering to the ground as the enemy’s force advances inexorably.

“Mother! Father!” Patton screams, desperate, confused, afraid.

“Run, Patton! Quick, before they find you!”

And he does, heart thundering in his chest as he turns and bolts towards the secret passage behind the throne -he found it when he was five, when everything was well and war was something he only heard about in fairytales.

He runs without looking back, emerging in the forest behind his home and not stopping until he trips on a branch, tumbling to the ground with a startled shout.

Patton lays there for what feels like an eternity, staring at the sky as sobs rack through his body -searching for a reason, just one, for all this violence and hatred and blood plaguing his home and destroying everything in its path.

“Why?” he chokes out, tears rolling down his cheek.

The moon stares back at him, silent, and Patton feels something inside him break and crumble to a million pieces.

Patton shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears from escaping out. He can’t let himself fall down that rabbit hole, because he knows there’s a great chance he might do something stupid -like give in to despair and finally let himself rot away, all alone in that abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere.

Taking in a steadying breath, Patton stands up and stretches his arms up, eyes sweeping on his surroundings.

He still remembers the state this cottage had been in when he’d first found it, crying and freezing in the middle of the night. Patton had basically passed out as soon as he had gotten inside, but once he’d woken up again, the light of the day had helped him better take in the place –it had been abandoned for a while already, clutter and dust filling the cottage and sending Patton into more than one sneezing fit.

He had spent the day cleaning and sweeping, trying to keep his mind off of everything –not that it had worked, in the end. Everything was still too fresh in his mind, the cries and blood and fire screaming endlessly in his head.

The first days had been… hard. After the first night, sleep had become its own hell. Between the nightmares, flashbacks, and loneliness, Patton had found himself hitting rock bottom hard and fast –sleep-deprivation and grief smashing and merging in his heart until all he could do was curl up on himself and let the tears fall.

Things had slowly gotten better though, mourning leaving the place to numbness, like a thick fog settling on his heart and never letting go. That had left too, with time –not completely, of course, he can still feel it creeping at the edge of his mind, but now it feels less like hopelessness and more like melancholy.

The cottage had become Patton’s home, the forest around him his entire world, the deer, squirrels and rabbits living in it his only companions. The war had kept raging in the distance, the only proof of its existence being the columns of smoke he would sometimes spot on the horizon or the occasional soldier passing through the woods –they somehow always missed the small cottage, blissfully unaware of the boy cowering inside of it with tears in his eyes and memories flashing in his head.

Almost a year has passed since the day Patton ran into the woods, and for the first time –despite the nightmares, despite the sadness and grief still dancing in his heart- there’s a tiny, sincere smile on his face as he lets the memories wash over him. Maybe, just maybe, he can finally start to move on.

Then, he lets his eyes sweep over the dusty mirror in the corner and lets out a shriek of surprise, ungracefully falling down the bed.

Patton blinks, eyes boring a hole through the wooden ceiling as he tries to make sense to what he’s just seen. He’s awake, right? He must still be dreaming, obviously, because Patton’s pretty sure that the boy who was staring back at him from the mirror a few seconds ago was, in fact, not him at all.

Patton frowns, pinching his arm and immediately after letting out a pained hiss. Nope, definitely not a dream. Then, what –or rather, who- did he just see, exactly?

Patton slowly gets up, nerves buzzing under his skin as he slowly approaches the mirror. Gulping, he moves to stand in front of it, eyes closed and heart beating wildly in his chest. He’s probably just being silly, he knows that. It was probably just a trick of the light, with the help of his still-half asleep brain. Now, he’s gonna open his eyes and all he’ll see will be his own reflection, same as every morning-

“So, are you ever going to show me those lovely eyes of yours?” comes a sudden voice from in front of him, drawing a surprised yelp out of Patton as he takes a few startled steps back. Eyes snapping open, Patton finds himself meeting the gaze of a boy who’s very much not him, white, red and golden robes flowing with a breeze he cannot feel as a pair of amused, forest green eyes stare back at him.

“There they are,” the boy chuckles, cocking his head to the side with a small smile, “I know I called them lovely mere seconds ago, but I have to admit that it doesn’t even come close to how breathtaking your eyes are. Only fitting for someone as stunningly beautiful as you, truly.”

Patton can distinctly feel his cheeks growing warmer by the second, wringing his hands in front of his chest as confusion, fear and a hint of curiosity clash and merge in his head.

“Who- Who are you?” he asks, his voice small and uncertain.

“You can call me Ro,” the boy says with a bow and a wink, the golden details of his robes catching on the sunlight coming from the open window, “I’m a magician, and wishes are my specialty. What about you, my dear?”

"I’m Prince P-” Patton starts, the familiar introduction already on the tip of his tongue, before catching himself, “ I’m Patton,” he finally says with a sad smile on his face, “just Patton. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve never met a magician before.”

“Patton, mh?” the boy –Ro- hums, tentatively rolling the name on his tongue, “a name almost as gorgeous as you, my prince.”

That last part makes Patton look away, smile turning bitter on his lips despite the small blush still present on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, but… I’m not a prince. Not anymore, at least.”

“You sure about that?” Ro asks, a chuckle escaping his lips as Patton snaps his head towards him in surprise. “I told you, my job is to grant wishes. Just say the word, prince Patton, and everything you’ve ever wanted will be finally yours.”

“Wha- for real?!” Patton exclaims, excitement evident in his voice as he unconsciously leans towards the mirror. “You’re not lying?”

“Of course not, my dear,” Ro says with a grin, “after all, I’m a magician meant just for you.”

“For me…?” Patton whispers, slightly in awe, “but- why me? I’m just a prince without a kingdom, a coward who ran away and left everything behind, I’m sure there are so many other people in the world who could use a blessing like this far more than I ever could!”

Patton doesn’t notice it, but Ro flinches almost imperceptibly at his words, sadness and something else flashing in his gaze for a second before he conceals it behind a kind smile. “Trust me, Patton, there is no one else in this world who deserves it more than you.”

“Are- are you sure?”

“Positive, my heart,” Ro says, “now, Patton, tell me –what does your heart desire most?”

For a moment, Patton feels overwhelmed, a million possibilities stretching in front of him. What do you ask for when you can wish for every single thing your heart ever wanted?

Then, he thinks of war and blood, of sorrow and pain. He thinks of his family, his kingdom, of happiness and laughter echoing in the halls of the castle, and slowly places his hand on the mirror’s surface, gaze bordering on pleading as he looks up at the magician.

“What can I ask for?” he asks, a spark of something growing in his soul –it makes excitement flow through his veins and his heart beat wildly in his chest.

“I shall grant anything that you wish for-” Ro answers as he places his own hand in front of Patton’s, a charming smile on his face and eyes full of a million promises –for a single instant, just one, Patton can almost feel the ghost of a touch on the tip of his fingers, warmth traveling up from his palm to his chest- “so won’t you chant for me from the other side of the mirror?”

Patton lets a grin stretch out on his face, eyes sparkling in barely concealed delight. He feels like somewhere far, far away from that little cottage in the woods, the wheels and gears of fate have just started turning.

“I think I know what my first wish will be!”

The spark in his soul is starting to feel a little bit like hope.

+++

“Can I wish for everything to go back the way it was before the war?”

“Well, there’s no limit to what you can ask, but-” Ro’s gaze turns hesitant, doubt flashing in his eyes as he turns his head to the side- “time is… tricky. It’s powerful, ancient, more than magic itself. Messing with it is dangerous, my heart. If I grant that kind of wish, you need to be aware –not even I can fully anticipate what the end result may come out to be.”

Patton’s smile dims but doesn’t disappear. “That’s alright,” he hums, nodding, “I can work with that.”

+++

“I wish for the war to stop.”

After Patton makes his first wish, Ro gives him a warning –he can fulfill it no problem, but it won’t be an immediate change. He’s a powerful magician, yes, but things like this don’t happen overnight. To see the results, they need to be patient.

“That’s okay!” Patton says, smiling at the young magician. “If it means the war will end, then I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”

Ro nods, smiling in response, and waves his hands in the air, foreign words slipping out of his mouth as red sparks fly around him –Patton can almost feel the moment the magic happens, like a switch being turned as something new clicks into place in the fabric of the universe.

After that, they wait –but not for long.

The news arrives around a week later, in the form of a caravan passing through the woods, bringing to the people of the kingdom the joyous news of a peace treaty finally being signed between the two fighting forces. They don’t see Patton, as it always happens, but Patton sees and hears them, a grin stretching on his face as he sprints back into the cottage.

“Thank you thank you thank you!!” he yells as he hugs the mirror, tears streaming down his face –for the first time in a long while, they’re tears of joy, heart bursting with happiness in his chest as the realization that this awful nightmare is finally over dawns upon him.

“There’s no need to thank me, Patton,” Ro says, a soft smile on his face, “it’s your wish that did this.”

Patton sniffs, shaking his head. “But your magic is what made it possible in the first place! Without it, this might have never happened. I- goodness, I don’t think there are enough words to express how grateful I am, you- I’m-”

Tears blur Patton’s already foggy eyesight, the occasional sobs making it difficult for him to keep talking. Inside the mirror, Ro’s smile turns softer still, murmured words slipping from his lips as his magic takes the form of a gentle red wisp. With a wave of the magician’s hand, the wisp flies out of the mirror towards Patton’s face, softly caressing his cheeks.

Patton gasps at the sensation, letting out a startled laugh as he feels the magic tenderly wipe away the falling tears.

“Awwww!” he coos, watching the red wisp fly in the air around him and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. The magic feels playful as it glides around, wiggling as zipping through the air and messing Patton’s hair up. The boy lets out a giggle, tears forgotten as he spins around to follow its path.

“Your smile shines more brightly than a thousand suns, my prince,” Ro says, smile so soft and gaze so earnest it makes something warm spread in Patton’s chest. “Happiness looks amazing on you. I can only be humbled by having been able to bring something so beautiful to the world.”

“Oh, shut it, you flatterer,” Patton grins, gaze focusing on the red wisp of magic still flying through the air of the cottage as his cheeks burn a pretty shade of red.

“Is it flattery if I’m only saying the truth?”

The way Patton’s eyes widen and his cheeks bloom an even brighter shade of red makes Ro only want to compliment him more, a boisterous laugh escaping his mouth as he watches the boy sputter and wave his arms around in embarrassment.

Distantly, he wonders how long has it been since someone told Patton how beautiful he is.

+++

“I wish for my parents to be alive and well.”

News of its beloved king and queen’s fates travels through the kingdom rather quickly, moving from village to village as the story of their imprisonment by enemy forces reaches even the farthest border in less than a week. The news of their freeing thanks to the treaty makes even the poorest farmer rejoice, making the realization finally sink in even for the most skeptical: the war has finally ended.

They’re free.

Festivities run rampant in the kingdom, people working on rebuilding what was destroyed and mourning what was lost. The royal family works hard to give its wounded kingdom and people what they need to put themselves back on their feet and finally start working towards recovery, but both the queen and king are also mourning the loss of their son, the prince, whose fate no one seems to know.

Their pain is short-lived, though. As soon as the news reaches his ears, Patton basically sprints out of the cottage and into the woods, jumping branches and zipping through the trees with the expertise only someone who has grown to know the forest like the back of their hand can have.

He doesn’t slow down even as he runs through the capital and people call for him with startled shouts and surprisingly delighted yells, his blonde hair and blue eyes impossible not to recognize. He doesn’t slow down as he passes through the gate of the royal castle, the guards too stunned to think of stopping him, or as he dashes through the familiar hallways of his old home, his quick steps and heavy breathing bouncing on its still crumbling walls as he makes his way towards where he hopes his parents will be.

Patton only stops when he not-so-gently barges into the throne room, where his parents and what remains of the royal council seem to be discussing something important –not that it matters too much, the king and queen immediately dropping everything as soon as their eyes land on Patton.

The prince stares at them, panting and sweating, before something between a sob and a wail leaves his lips and his legs push him forward once more.

His parents meet him in the middle, his mother enveloping him in a crushing hug as tears fall freely down both of their faces. Patton feels his father’s strong arms enveloping them both, his laugh resonating in the room as he lifts them both and starts spinning them around the room.

Patton’s delighted laugh mixes with his mother’s, happiness exploding in his chest like a million fireworks, and he wonders how will he ever be able to repay Ro for all he’s been doing for him.

(Over the throne room, hidden by the shadows of the crumbling ceiling, a familiar red wisp of magic zips through the air, watching over the reunited family.)

(Far away from the castle, inside a little cottage in the woods, Ro looks through the wisp at Patton’s smile and lets his own tug at his lips, in stark contrast with the fresh tears falling down his cheeks. Quiet happiness and raging sadness clash and collide in his chest, squeezing his heart like a million vines, and he gives himself a moment to just let himself feel, pain and guilt running rampant in his soul with the silence of the woods as his only companion. Then, he steels himself once again, wiping away the tears with the edge of his sleeves. After all, there’s still some work to do.)

+++

“I wish for our resources to be enough to feed our people and rebuild our kingdom, for sickness to not touch us, for famine to be far away from our land.”

Our land is strong and fertile, most say as the earth keeps giving and resources never dim.

It’s a miracle, the people whisper as the sick and frail all recover and get back on their feet.

It’s a blessing, the kingdom cries as what was destroyed gets rebuilt and all traces of the war slowly disappear.

No, Patton thinks as his home flourishes one again in front of his eyes, tears prickling at his eyes and a knowing smile on his lips, this is magic.

+++

During his first night back in the castle, after reuniting with his parents in the throne room, Patton tells them about his escape through the forest, about the little cottage in the woods and the year of loneliness he went through. He tells them about the woods that had grown to be his home, about the animals that had kept him company even in the darkest of nights, about the river flowing just a few feet behind the house and those little bushes who were incredibly difficult to find, but bore the sweetest of berries.

What he doesn’t tell them about, is the mysterious magician living inside the mirror, the young boy with twinkling green eyes and a dizzying smile who has given Patton so much and asked for nothing in return.

Not that he doesn’t want to! It’s just… he doesn’t even know how to start explaining everything and besides, his dad has never been too fond of magic and Patton doesn’t want to make him worry or worse, have a fight with him –not now that they’ve just reunited, not after a year believing he would never see his parents again.

So he keeps Ro’s existence to himself, holding this little secret tight to his chest as he tells them about the dusty, old mirror sitting in the corner of the cottage, about how he got attached to it and he would really like to have it with him, in his chambers at the castle.

His parents are more than a little confused by his request, if not somewhat suspicious. Patton doesn’t miss the wariness flashing in his father’s eyes, the way his expression turns into a pensive frown as he shares an uncertain glance with his wife. For a moment, he fears they’ll call out his bluff and demand an explanation, press and press until the truth comes out –he fears they’ll take the mirror away, forbid him from seeing Ro ever again.

But that doesn’t happen, the wariness replaced by soft sighs and a nod. They may not understand, but that mirror seems to be really important for their son –that’s a more than enough reason for them to grant his wish.

And so here he is, not even two months after his first wish has been granted, sitting in his room as he giggles at something Ro has said. They’re both happy, grins stretching on their faces as laughter fills the atmosphere around them.

There’s something burning in Patton’s chest, a feeling that sparked to life when he met those deep, green eyes for the first time and only grew with every grin, every laugh, every quiet moment shared in that little cottage in the woods.

It feels like amber flames licking at his soul, like warmth spreading through his body, like butterflies in his stomach and happiness in his heart.

It feels like love, and it makes Patton’s heart ache and yearn like nothing else.

+++

“Are you happy, Patton?” Ro asks sometime later, startling the prince out of his thoughts.

“Of course I am!” Patton says, clearly confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You looked… distant, for a second,” Ro explains, searching for the words to best describe what he means, “melancholic, I’d say.”

Patton blinks, taken aback. “Oh,” he says, because how do you respond to something like that when he hasn’t even noticed it himself?

“Is there…” Ro tentatively begins, hesitant in his question as he gives the other a questioning glance, “is there maybe another wish you want me to fulfill for you? You know I won’t mind, right? It’s the reason I came to you, after all.”

Patton thinks about the surge of warmth he feels every time he looks at Ro, about the dreams filling his nights and those wishes he hasn’t shared even with the boy he now calls his best friend. He thinks about the arms he wishes could surround him, about the hands he wishes he could hold and the smile he wishes he could kiss.

Then, he smiles, shaking his head.

“As long as you’re with me, there’s nothing else I could ever wish for.”

(Little does Patton know, that’s the moment Ro feels his heart shatter in his chest.)

+++

The last six months have felt like something straight out of a fairytale for Patton, like the ones his mother used to tell him when he was a kid, just before tucking him in bed and kissing his hair, before sleep overtook him and dreams filled his head.

Patton feels like he’s finally found he prince of his dreams –he sees him every time a pair of forest green eyes meet his gaze, every time white, red and golden robes glint behind the surface of the old mirror in the corner of his room, every time red wisps of magic fill the air and a dazzling grin makes his heart race in his chest.

But like every story his mother told him, even this one has to reach his ending.

And this time, there’s no happy ending in store for him.

+++

“… What?”

Ro gives him a sad smile, eyes melancholic as he repeats one more time those four cursed words.

“I have to go, Patton.”

“But… where? Why??” Patton asks, clearly taken aback, “when will you be back?”

Ro shakes his head, looking away. “I won’t, my prince.”

“No…” Patton whispers, before throwing himself toward the mirror and placing his hands on the glass, “no, please! You can’t leave just yet, not like this.”

“Patton, please-”

“No!” he yells, tears flowing down his cheeks, “I refuse to say goodbye- I won’t!”

Ro looks on the verge of tears, eyes wet and sad as he puts his hands in front of Patton’s –for a second, they’re back at the beginning, in that little cottage in the woods where Ro smiled at Patton and everything changed forever. For a second, they both find themselves wishing they could go back to that single, magical moment.

Sadly, this is one wish Ro cannot make come true.

“Please-” Patton begs, voice breaking as sobs rack through his body- “please, don’t leave my side.”

Ro shakes his head, his own tears falling down his cheeks as his smile turns downright heartbroken.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, leaning his forehead on the mirror, “I’m so sorry, Patton.”

“Why?” Patton asks, desperate.

“Because if I don’t, then it will all have been for nothing.” Ro answers, “because if I stay, I will only hurt you, and I can’t bear the mere thought of it.”

“You’re hurting me by going away!” Patton argues and yeah, maybe it’s petty and unfair and absolutely, utterly selfish, but he can barely bring himself to care. if it means Ro will stay, then he’s ready to do almost anything. “Please, I can’t- I can’t lose you. Please.”

He can see the resolve breaking in Ro’s eyes, the heartbroken expression taking over the magician’s face as he seems to be physically restraining himself from breaking down completely.

“Patton, if I stay, everything will go back to how it was before.” Ro finally reveals, gaze falling to his feet as his arms wrap around his waist in a desperate attempt to hold himself together. “All your wishes, all the good and happiness they brought… it’ll all disappear, forever. I can’t let that happen, Patton, I can’t be the cause of your despair. Not again.”

It’s Patton’s turn to fall silent now, tears still falling down his cheeks as he registers Ro’s words.

“What?” he whispers, taken aback. “Not again? You’ve never hurt me, Ro, what are you talking about?”

This time, Patton doesn’t miss the way Ro tenses at his words, arms tightening around his waist as he hunches on himself and shakes his head -as if trying to physically protect himself from something buried deep inside his mind.

Still confused, the prince stares as Ro takes in a few deep breaths, slowly straightening his back as he appears to steel himself –for what, Patton doesn’t know, and a little, frightened voice inside himself whispers that he really, really doesn’t want to find out.

“I was scared,” Ro finally whispers, eyes still fixed to the ground, “I was scared, alone, and so, so tired. Everything was crumbling, my life, my home… I just wanted it all to stop. When he arrived, he gave me someone to blame, someone to be angry at –and like a fool, I believed him.”

When Ro finally looks up, his eyes are red and puffy, fresh tears streaking down his cheeks. “I was selfish, I was greedy, and because of that I hurt you in ways I will never forgive myself for.” He lets out a melancholy chuckle, lips stretching into a bittersweet smile. “Everything that I gave, was only given to repay. You showed me a side of life I would have never dreamed to see –your kindness and love will always, always inspire me to do better, be better.”

With a wave of Ro’s hand, a familiar wisp of red magic leaves the mirror, flying to Patton’s face and tenderly wiping away his tears. “I will never forget your smile, your laugh, that twinkle in your eyes you get when something makes you happy. And I won’t forget your tears, your sorrow, even if they break my heart –so that I’ll never make the same mistakes again.” His expression morphs then, sadness momentarily leaving the place to tenderness as his gaze turns fonder still. “May I ask for one last promise, my heart?”

Patton wants to shake his head, vehemently say that no, he won’t promise anything because Ro can’t go, not yet, not now that all Patton wishes for is to have him by his side forever –as his consultant, as his best friend, as his soulmate.

And yet, he doesn’t, doing his best to keep his sobs at bay as he gives Ro a small, shaky nod.

“Keep me in your memories, my sunshine, and think of me, once in a while. But never with sadness or grief. Think of me as you would of an old friend, with fondness and maybe love, if you believe me worthy of it.”

Ro smiles, bowing at Patton as cracks start to appear on the surface of the mirror.

“I love you, prince Patton. Goodbye.”

Crash!

#sanders sides #royality #patton sanders #roman sanders #patton angst #roman angst #(more in the next chapter eheheheheheh)#angst #angst with a happy ending #crying #blood mention #war #magic #magic mirror au #fanfiction #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #maxiswriting

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juniperwindsong · 5 years ago

Text

Necessary Monsters (4/16)

Summary: "I have done my best since I've been back to make sure no one got to her, but it's a bit of full time gig, that. I warned her to stay out and let me handle it.” "You thought she would stay away if you just told her to? Have you ever met Juniper?"

Post to the dragon infested wilds of northeastern Peru is not always possible, and what birds do manage it are never timely. Which is why Felix does not read Rita Skeeter's article on Juniper Windsong* until several months after his graduation. "From Cursebreaker to Quidditch Darling: A Witch of Many Hats" declares the headline, set above a photograph of an awkwardly smiling Juniper. She’s giving the camera a surprised sort of half-wave, as though only aware of its presence a second before the flash.

So far, Felix has done a successful job putting his crush on his school friend from his mind, aided by the million and one things he has to learn about his new and dangerous job. But something about the picture-Juniper's expression touches that part of him still nursing a soft spot for her. He severs the photograph from the article with his wand, tucking it carefully into a trouser pocket. And for the next three years, that's where it stays; his only aid in recalling her face with the precise detail he craves more and more frequently.

The body on the hospital bed has the same features, slightly aged. But Felix cannot reconcile it with the Juniper he knows. There's no sign of life in her, beyond the incessant twitching of her fingers. Closer inspection reveals her myriad tiny cuts to be deeper than Felix initially realised. The wounds, while magically sealed, are puckered and raised. He knows each one will leave a small scar.

And her face. Her face is entirely expressionless. It reminds Felix of the mannequins at the hospital's entrance. No one could confuse her condition with merely sleeping.

How long he stands by the bed minutely inspecting each injured part of Juniper, Felix isn't sure. His brain is strangely detached, as if it's reached the limit of what it can process in one day and has recused itself from any further analysis. Felix can't really blame it. In the span of one morning, he’s fallen from exuberant high-spirits through various layers of unexpected terror before bottoming out in wretched guilt. Now, with no action left to keep up momentum, the rapid rush of conflicting emotion burns out, leaving numb exhaustion in its wake.

Only when his knees start to feel shaky once more does Felix remember the thing he's leaning against is a chair, and he drops into it. It's a comfortable, winged armchair, most unlike the hard, wooden chairs Madam Pomfrey conjures for guest use in the Hogwart's Hospital Wing. He wonders briefly if all the rooms in St Mungo’s are equally accommodating or if it indicates this patient's need for more regular supervision.

Felix sinks deeper into the cushions gratefully. Perhaps it's the lack of sleep, or the fact that he's been denied furniture this comfortable for years, but drowsiness begins to trickle through his limbs enticingly. Keeping his eyes open is suddenly a herculean task...

Felix only knows he's fallen asleep when the soft click of the hidden door unlocking wakes him. Disoriented, he struggles from the chair, fumbling for his wand. But the witch who enters, a short, curly-haired woman in lime-green robes, says "Dragon-Heart String," promptly before he's able to pull it from his pocket.

"You're awake this time," the healer observes crisply, striding to the bedside table. "Good. I was beginning to worry you'd been cursed as well."

Felix makes a production of stowing his wand back into his rumpled robes, surreptitiously wiping sleep from his eyes and giving the heat in his face time to cool. When he turns back to the bed, the healer is running her wand over Juniper's chest slowly, the wood just brushing the white sheet. The wand tip glows a deep, pulsing red and the healer nods once as if in confirmation.

"What are you doing?" asks Felix.

"Checking her vital signs," replies the healer. "Her heart rate is slowing."

She says this so matter-of-factly it takes a minute for Felix to process it isn't a good thing. His own heart begins to beat double-time.

"Surely you can fix that?"

The healer shakes her head once, iron-gray curls bouncing. She reaches for a small bottle on the bedside table and uncorks it, upending the contents onto a bit of cloth.

"Not unless we can discover what spell was used on her." The healer begins dabbing the cloth gently over the angry red cuts on Juniper's face. "Nothing we've tried has worked so far. I have my trainee researching rare curses and sleep enchantments, but-" She clicks her tongue doubtfully.

In spite of her brusque tone, Felix's notices the healer's motions are exceedingly gentle. She takes her time, massaging the cloth over each small wound on Juniper's face down to her exposed neck. Something in her tender ministrations betrays concern, and an echo of the morning's fear slithers back through Felix's veins.

"But... she's going to be alright...isn't she?"

The healer looks up at him abruptly, cloth stilling on Juniper's shoulder.

"Has no one explained to you what's happened to this girl?

"They - he said - she was attacked."

The healer regards him steadily. "She has been tortured. See her hands? That's a sign of prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. Pain like that has permanent effects on the body and the mind. It can quite literally drive a person mad. Even if we manage to wake her, I doubt very much whether she will be 'alright'."

Felix's heart beat climbs into his throat. He swallows hard, trying to wrap his mind around this new and terrifying possibility.

"There has to be something you can do," he protests weakly. The healer shakes her head again, curls bouncing.

"Not against that sort of magic." She sets her cloth back on the beside table and contemplates Juniper's lifeless form, hands on hips. "There’s research being done into alleviating the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, but nothing practical has come of it so far." Her jaw tenses in the first real emotion Felix has seen from her. "There’s a reason that Curse is unforgivable."

The healer bends over the bed to smooth down the sheet, tucking excess fabric in around the inert body. Satisfied with the result, she straightens and considers Felix carefully.

"So. Do you think you can manage to stay awake through the evening now you've had your kip, or should I call in a trainee to relieve you?"

There's no hiding the burning in his face this time, but Felix draws himself up in spite of it and tries to look as competent as possible.

"It won't happen again, I assure you."

She gives another curt nod and bustles around the bed.

"There's a bell on the table. Give a ring if anything changes. My trainee will hear it."

Foregoing the treacherously cosy armchair, Felix perches on the edge of the bed beside Juniper's trembling hand. Even without the healer's admonition, he would not have been able to return to sleep.

Fears for Juniper's safety have always plagued Felix. He's endured more than one restless night worrying what might be happening to her thousands of miles away. But everything he's imagined feeling should the worst occur - grief and pain and regret - such easy emotions have no place here. What Felix feels he has no words for. There's only a wrenching in his gut and a scream building in his chest, threatening to erupt uncontrollably, like vomit. Dead or mad, somehow both carry the same crushing weight. The thought that who Juniper is will be gone forever is inconceivable. It pulls at the very threads of Felix's mind, stretching it in the most horrid way.

Felix reaches for Juniper's hand, cradling it delicately in both of his own like an eggshell. He can feel the restless twitching of her fingers, every other part of her so unnaturally still. She's never been this still in life, he thinks. And the unconscious word choice brings horrified tears to his eyes he cannot blink away.

Felix hasn't cried since he was a small child. It was never an acceptable expression in his family. Even now, a part of him twinges with fear as tears run sloppily down his cheeks and nose. Some instinct imprinted in him aches with the memory of the physical pain crying awards. But jinxes and hexes seem like nothing to Felix now. He would take them in a heartbeat over this.

Tears seem to loosen Felix's tongue, and all the confessions and apologies churning inside him burst forth unbidden.

“Juniper. Oh, gods, Juniper. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing them against her knuckles, and then her fingertips, uncurling her shaking fingers to place a kiss against her palm. It's riddled with tiny cuts, and older, shiny pink scars.

Felix knows the story behind those now: souvenirs of her fight with the guardian of the Vault of Ice in her second year. Thirteen years old, and battling for her life against an enchanted knight, unmoved by her age or her lack of experience. By all accounts, it's a fight Juniper should never have survived. But she did. Somehow, she always does.

Felix sniffs and wipes the heel of his free hand across his cheeks.

“Juniper, please. Please, be okay," he murmurs against her fingers like a prayer. "You can fight this. Whatever it is. You're strong. The strongest person I know, and I-” He chokes as a sob tries to escape around his words. "I need you to be okay. I need-"

Felix's words are interrupted by the door opening for a second time. And something in the way the lock clunks, a louder, more forceful sound than it's usual click, sets his nerves on edge. Dropping Juniper's hand, he whips around and draws his wand in one smooth motion, pointing it directly at the man whose back is now pressed against the closed door.

The intruder is dressed in lime green robes, but they fit him uncomfortably, a size too small for his well-built frame, and Felix doesn’t have to recognise him to know he isn’t really a healer. Except for the fact that his face isn't cracked into a lop-sided grin, the man looks exactly as Felix remembers, even if it's been over a decade since they last met. The man's hand tightens over his own wand as he catches sight of Felix's, but he adjusts his face to something politely professional.

"Sorry, must have the wrong room."

His hand is on the doorknob when Felix says, "Jacob Windsong."

If Juniper's brother is startled at being recognised, he doesn’t show it. He merely furrows his brow at Felix curiously.

"Do I know you?"

"Felix Rosier.”

Jacob cocks his head in mild surprise. "Blimey. Didn’t recognise you."

"It's been a long time." Felix's voice is calm, but he can feel anger bubbling up inside him. If there’s any one person who is really to blame for Juniper's condition, it’s the man in front of him.

"For you, maybe," replies Jacob cryptically. He glances from Felix to the bed. "I see you've met my sister. How is she?"

Jacob's conversational tone, as though they've met at the grocer's and are forced by social convention to make polite inquiries after one another, strains Felix's self-control.

"How does she look?" he asks wildly, a flailing hand indicating the bed beside him. "She's been tortured and cursed! No one at the school could wake her, and the healers don't even know if she'll survive! Thanks to you!"

Jacob flinches as if Felix has thrown something at him. "It's not my fault."

"Are you mad?" Felix's temper rises with each word. "You're the reason she's here! She got herself mixed up in cursed vaults and bloody cults looking for you!"

"I know. And I am sorry about all that. And I have done my best since I've been back to make sure no one got to her, but it's a bit of full time gig, that. I warned her to stay out and let me handle it.”

Felix's mirthless laugh is dangerously close to a shriek. "You thought she would stay away if you just told her to? Have you ever met Juniper?"

Jacob ignores this, considering Felix curiously instead.

"How do you know Juniper? What are you doing here?"

Heat creeps up Felix's cheeks and his indignation flags. "I...was her prefect in school. Now, we're...friends."

Jacob takes in Felix's words and the obvious embarrassment rising in his face, and gives a hearty guffaw.

"Friends?" he repeats, his shoulders jerking with short harsh laughs.

"Yes," Felix declares, chin raised defiantly. "She needed someone to look after her for the last six years while you've been missing." He gives the last word a sarcastic emphasis, and Jacob's smile becomes a grimace.

"Oh, well, you've certainly done a bang-up job, haven't you?" he mocks, and Felix snaps.

"Impedimenta!" he cries without stopping to think. The spell is unexpected, and Jacob has no time to block it. He throws himself sideways, hitting the floor in a roll and straightening up on the other side of the bed, wand raised defensively.

"Bloody hell, you want to bring whole hospital in here?!"

"Get out, then," demands Felix, breathing rapidly.

Jacob eyes Felix’s outstretched wand, then the bed where Juniper remains motionless. With a sigh, he lowers his wand.

"Believe it or not,” he says testily, adjusting his too-right robes, “I didn't risk my life and freedom just to come here and have a chinwag with you." He takes a cautious step closer to the head of the bed. "I'm here to help."

"How can you possibly help?"

“I think I know what curse was used on her. I might be able to wake her up.”

Hope flickers to life inside Felix, nudging his anger aside. "How could you know that? The professors don't even know."

Jacob gives a derisive snort. "Let's just say, I know the way this organization works." He holds up a hand to stifle Felix's further questions. "But it’s too complicated to explain now. Just let me try something."

Taking another step, Jacob lifts his wand again, pointing it toward Juniper.

"Expelliarmus!"

Jacob's wand leaps from his outstretched hand to the floor, where Felix summons it quickly and sticks it into his back pocket. He aims his own wand directly at Jacob's face, now screwed up in irritation.

"Merlin's pants, I said I'm trying to help her!”

"How do I know you’re really who you say you are? You could be someone from R disguised as Jacob Windsong come to finish his sister off. Or you could have been working with them all along."

Jacob crosses his arms. "That'd be a pretty stupid disguise, don’t you think? I’m wanted by the Ministry and Dumbledore and several other parties, none of which are looking to buy me a drink. Hardly the best way to get around, got up as a wanted criminal."

True, but Felix doesn't lower his wand. Jacob sighs and spreads his arms wide in supplication.

"How can I prove I’m me, then? You don’t know the first thing about me, so it’s not like I can answer any questions." He gestures vaguely toward Felix. "I remember meeting you once last year. Or..." He pauses, and obvious unease crosses his features. "No. I suppose... it was quite a few years ago, wasn't it? Time is still a bit...” He waggles his fingers vaguely. "Anyway, I saved your arse from some Gryffindor you were picking on. That do?"**

The only other person Felix has ever related this story to is Juniper. He supposes Jacob himself could have told an associate, but it seems unlikely.

"So, you’re you," acknowledges Felix grudgingly, his wand arm beginning to ache. "That doesn’t mean you’re on her side."

"I have always been on her side," argues Jacob. Felix lets out a "Ha!" of disbelieving laughter, and Jacob's eyes flash. "Look, believe what you like about me, it’s probably not half true. But I have always loved Juniper and done everything I could to keep her safe."

Felix laughs again, a harsh sound devoid of any humour. He feels as incensed as Jacob looks.

"You don’t think it’s killed me to find out everything that’s happened to her while I’ve been trapped?" Jacob protests. "That she's been all on her own? Facing my enemies?"

"Then why didn’t you stay with her when she found you?" counters Felix. “She’s devoted nearly half her life to finding you, at the expense of everything and everyone. And you wouldn't even give her the time of day!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Jacob's voice has risen now, too. "You don't have the first idea what's really going on or what these people are capable of. This isn't over, and Pip won’t be safe until it is! I started this mess and I have to finish it. I owe it. To her!"

A brief silence follows this declaration. Felix's wand arm drops a few degrees.

"Pip?" he asks, his voice strained, unsure if it wants to laugh or cry or yell some more.

Jacob blinks. "Juniper," he explains. "That's what I called her. When she was a kid." A very small smile breaks up the storm clouds in his face. "She always hated it."

Jacob's smile is so similar to the genuine one Felix has seen in rare moments on Juniper's own face it causes his stomach to somersault. And the dreadful possibility of never seeing that smile aimed at him again smothers Felix's anger. For a minute, both men can only stare at the girl lying lifeless on the bed, entirely unmoved by their screams or spells. The reality of the danger she's in hovers ominously over them both.

When Jacob speaks again, his voice is soft and urgent. "If you're really her friend, then you'll let me try the counter curse. If I'm wrong, it won't hurt her. I promise."

Felix's wand wavers, then falls. He reaches into his back pocket for Jacob's wand and holds it out to him. Jacob receives it with a short nod of thanks. Gazing down at his sister, he runs a hand over her hair just once, pushing it back from her forehead. Felix feels a quick pang of irrational jealousy. Without further sentiment, the elder Windsong aims his wand at Juniper's temple and mutters something under his breath.

Nothing happens.

Felix waits expectantly for Jacob to try again, but the man simply tucks his wand away and addresses Felix.

"Listen, when she wakes up - "

"What do you mean, 'when she wakes up'?" Felix interrupts. "It didn't work."

Jacob shakes his head. "It will. Or it should. It isn't instant. But, I think the curse is lifted, she's just asleep now. Look." He tilts his head in the direction of Juniper's chest, which Felix realises with a jolt is now rising and falling gently. ”She'll wake up soon, and when she does she's going to have a bit of a time adjusting. That curse can give you some pretty rough nightmares."

"I think nightmares will be the least of her problems. They -" Felix's voice catches. "They don’t even know if she’ll be sane."

Jacob glances down again and for the first time his face isn’t the confident mask Felix has only ever seen on him.

"I - I can't do anything about that," says Jacobs haltingly, watching his sister's slight breathing. His face tightens once more. "All I can do is make sure no one gets to her again."

With that, Jacob moves briskly toward the door. A quick side step allows Felix to grab the older man's arm before he reaches it.

"No," Felix objects firmly. "You need to be here when she wakes up. She'll want to see you."

"No, I need to go find who did this to her," Jacob argues, trying to wrench his arm away and surprised when he’s unable to break Felix’s grip. Felix smirks. What three years of working with dragons has done for his muscle definition is not his least favourite post-Hogwarts accomplishment.

"So, revenge is more important to you than your sister?"

"Taking care of her is most important." Jacob makes another effort to jerk his arm away from Felix, but the dragonologist holds on fast.

"She doesn't need you to take care of her. She needs you to be here with her. You're her family."

Jacob throws his head back, growling in frustration.

"Listen," he pleads. "Once she wakes, this place will be swarming with healers and aurors and people who are looking for me. We can hardly be a proper family if I'm locked in a cell, can we?"

"So, you're just going to leave her. Again."

"I have to."

Felix shakes his head at the man in front of him, then releases his arm in disgust.

Felix had always assumed Jacob Windsong was dead. Not that he would ever tell Juniper. His memory of Jacob, and the way Juniper described him, Felix couldn't imagine any other possible scenario. Why else would he leave the sister he so clearly cared for? A sister he doted on, wrote to constantly, treated like a best friend. At least, that was how Juniper had always described their relationship. But as he stares at the door now closed behind Jacob, Felix has to wonder just how reliable Juniper's memories of her brother really were.

His thoughts are interrupted by a scream.

Anyone who works in close proximity to dragons becomes quickly accustomed to screams. In three years, Felix has heard men, women, and children shriek in terror at the sight of a soaring Vipertooth. He can distinguish howls of agony caused by dragonfire meeting skin from the anguished wails at its destruction of homes and villages. He himself has screamed in pain as a dragon's talon rips cleanly through the skin of his throat.

But this scream is different. It’s the sort that chills the blood. A bottomless sound of torment and hopelessness, like Felix has never heard. And instead of inspiring him to action, as screams have come to do, this excruciating noise makes him want to hide. He knows the sound is coming from the bed behind him, which means there's only one logical source.

Two people in lime-green robes burst through the door, nearly knocking Felix over in their rush to reach the bed. Felix can only hope they’re trustworthy trainees because he's neglected to ask for the password. He cannot think at all as the healers draw their wands, speaking rapidly to each other, trying various spells and incantations. But nothing they cast alters the scream by a decibel.

Felix closes his eyes, unable to face the bed. He cannot watch Juniper make that terrible noise; doesn't want to connect that sound with her. He stands entirely frozen as the scream drags on, fighting the urge to cover his ears or run from the room entirely, until a forceful hand grips his shoulder and shakes him.

“What’s happened?”

Felix recognises the voice distantly.

"She... she started screaming," he answers, his own voice coming to him from far away.

There's a snort of exasperation. "Yes, that’s obvious, but what did they do? How did they wake her?"

When Felix doesn't answer, the hand shakes his shoulder again, the force rattling his teeth. It clears Felix's head just enough for him to focus on the disfigured man from before. He's staring intently at Felix with his normal eye, the strange blue one rolled back in his head. Beyond him, Felix catches sight of Professor Snape hunched over the bed next to the frantic healers.

"Answer me! What-"

The man breaks off abruptly, and a different sort of ringing fills Felix’s ears. It's a few seconds before he recognises the sound as silence. The screaming has stopped. Ignoring the man in front of him, Felix cranes his neck so he can see to the bed where Juniper has fallen back against the pillow. Panic reasserting itself, he tries to push forward, but the man has Felix’s shoulder in a vice.

"You! Boy! You were supposed to be guarding her. What happened? She didn’t just wake up like this on her own."

"Yes, she did," Felix snaps. "I mean, she just started screaming, I don't know if she was awake. Her brother said-"

"Jacob Windsong was here?" Both the man's eyes are on Felix now, and even Snape has whipped around in alarm.

"Yes. He came to see Juniper. He-" Felix draws a shaky breath, trying to collect his thoughts, still scattered by the unearthly scream. “He said he could help her. That he knew what curse was cast on her."

The man shakes Felix again, this time in eagerness. "What did he say the curse was? How did he counter it?"

Felix steps back, wrenching his shoulder away from the heavily scarred man.

"He didn't say."

"He didn’t say what the curse was or he didn't say how to counter it?"

A dull throb has sprung to life in Felix's temple, and he rubs at his forehead in weary frustration.

"Neither. He didn't....didn't say anything specific."

The man's blue eye rolls madly in its socket. "You didn’t ask him? You let him cast a spell on Windsong and didn't bother to ask what it was?"

Felix can feel the embarrassment crawl across his face, but doesn't answer, just digs his heels against his eyes until he sees stars.

The man utters a low sound of disgust and limps heavily to the bed, edging between the trainee healers to get a better look at Juniper. Snape takes the man's place in front of Felix, his expression hard and calculating.

"Did Jacob Windsong say anything else?"

Felix has no desire to recount his conversation with Juniper's brother, so he shakes his head.

"Nothing important." Snape's eyes flash dangerously, and Felix hastens to add. "He said...he just said he was trying to keep Juniper safe. From R."

"For all we know it wasn’t even the Windsong boy," calls the other man from the bedside. "Could have been any one of the outfit in disguise, and this idiot wouldn’t know the difference."

Irritation pulses against Felix's skull.

"As a matter of fact, I thought of that as well. But he knew things that only the real Jacob Windsong would know."

"Did he now?" asks the man condescendingly.

"Yes," Felix insists. "It was him. I’m sure of it."

The man merely makes a rough sound in the back of his throat, a laugh or a hacking cough. He throws himself into the armchair now pressed against the wall to make more room around the bed. One of the trainee healers moves as well, busying himself over the bedside table, and Felix catches sight of Juniper. She's still, but breathing regularly.

"What did you do her? Why was she screaming? Will she be alright?"

Felix directs his question at the healers, but it’s Snape who answers him.

"They have given her a Draught of Peace, but we do not know any more than you, Mr Rosier. It is still unclear what curse she was under or why she was unresponsive. Are you sure Jacob Windsong didn't-"

"Rosier? Did you say Rosier?"

The scarred man stands slowly, both eyes fixed unblinkingly on Felix.

"You wouldn't be related to the late Evan Rosier, now, would you?" he asks, gnarled hand clenching around his wand.

"He was my cousin," answers Felix, confused by this strange change of subject.

What's left of the man's nose seems to quiver in unspeakable rage, as he draws himself up to full height.

"Well now. That's one mystery solved. No wonder he couldn’t ask any pertinent questions.” He advances on Felix with a menacing limp. "He's probably in league with R, himself. Sent here by the lot of them to keep tabs on her, were you?"

Felix retreats against the wall to keep the man's wand from poking him in the chest. He's so taken aback, it's several seconds before he feels fear, and another before he feels anger. There’s no time to formulate a scathing retort, however, before Snape steps between them. He holds his wand at his side casually, but Felix notices the Professor's knuckles are white.

"Moody, I can assure you Mr Rosier is not in league with R."

Felix can see the man's lips move in response, but his ears have stopped working.

"Moody?" he repeats, his exhausted brain trying to call up the meaning associated with the name. "Mad-Eye Moody?"

And Felix remembers. His father white as a sheet, his mother sobbing, ministry officials delivering the news impassively. Felix isn't sure how he feels. All he can think of is what his father would say if he knew he was the same room as the man who killed Evan.

"Yeah, that’s right, boy." Moody's mouth twists into a grotesque sneer. "Know who I am, do you? Surprised you and your Death Eater family don’t have my picture up for target practice.“

It isn't the first time Felix has heard an accusation like this, not by a long shot. But it's been so many years, it takes a moment for the old indignation and shame to uncoil within him, like an aged dragon.

"I am not a Death Eater," he seethes, voice shaking.

"We'll soon find out." Moody retorts, and makes a grab for Felix's left arm. Snape steps in front of the scarred hand, and for a moment the two men glare at each other, wands half-raised.

"Please, not in here," says a timid voice from near the bed. One of the trainee healers wrings his hands nervously as he watches the scuffling men by the door. "I'm... I'm afraid I...I must insist you take this outside. This patient is still seriously injured. She needs...to rest.” The trainee grips the bedstead to support his weight, as if this short speech has drained him of all energy.

Moody takes a step a back, glowering at Felix and Snape. He’s breathing hard, whereas Felix isn't sure he can breathe at all.

“Get out,” demands the auror.

"What? No!” protests Felix. “I haven't done anything wrong, you can't-"

His argument is cut short by Snape, who grabs Felix’s upper arm and pulls him from the room, releasing him only when the door is shut firmly behind them. Felix stumbles, rubbing at his bruised arm.

"Professor, I swear, I made sure it was Jacob Windsong. I didn't just let anyone waltz in here. And he woke her up, didn't he? He helped her! I-"

"Mr Rosier," Snape interjects. “No one is doubting your devotion to Miss Windsong. But there is nothing more you can do for her now. You've been here nearly an entire day, and if I'm not mistaken, you have an important interview in the morning. I suggest you take some time to... " He eyes Felix’s wrinkled robes and uncharacteristically disheveled hair: “Prepare yourself.”

Felix blinks. He turns automatically to the window for some indication of the time. The streaky glass reveals darkness, though Felix isn't sure it can be trusted to show the sky’s actual appearance since it's secretly a door. He hasn't thought to check the time once since he's been here, has entirely forgotten the world outside the hospital room. None of it seems of any importance in light of Juniper's peril. But this job at the Romanian Reserve is a rare opportunity. And if he misses his interview, there’s no knowing when the position will come available again.

As if he can read Felix’s thoughts, Snape adds, "I doubt very much whether Miss Windsong would appreciate if you missed your interview on her account." And Felix cannot argue against that.

"I'll come back. After the interview." It's a statement, not a request.

Snape arches an eyebrow but makes no other response. Felix takes a reluctant step back.

"And if something were to happen to her before then...would you...let me know?"

The Potions Master's slow blink is his only indication of assent.

Felix takes another step, then pauses, shuffling his feet. His fingers come up to trace the scar on his neck unconsciously.

"Professor." Felix meets Snape's eyes imploringly. "I'm not any of the things he said. Moody. I'm not - I'm not a Death Eater."

Snape's face is still entirely inscrutable, but he gives the smallest of nods as he answers, "I know, Felix."

*A/N: This is a reference to one of the last bits of the Quidditch Season 1 storyline (which I'm aware is technically supposed to take place in MC's second year, but which in my story is moved to her third.) The title of the article is my own invention. **A/N: Reference to my Felix Rosier backstory Four Things Felix Rosier Remembered.

Read Chapter 5 | View all stories on the Masterpost

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idhanbin-blog · 6 years ago

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prompt 01, character development --- detail the one time you wanted to quit.

for demons that hide in plain sight. for the ground disappearing beneath your feet. for resentment. for remaining.

though you must be happy / i will pray for you.

her voice, softly grazing her throat, would pour down his nape, her arms reverberating the thrums of a perfect love song.

his shoulders roll back instinctively when the clip starts rolling. it’s only a bat of a lash until something brews inside him, turning his smile wry and his lips sour. he has to suck in a breath to lay his eyes on the monitor again, without flinching this time. he’s meant to be entertaining on variety shows -- he doesn’t need a manager to tell him that.

he just feels pathetic and small, and there’s a feeling in his gut it should be a sensation he would be all too familiar with soon enough. to even expect they would run this sort of thing by guests ahead.

it takes willpower to convince himself it’s not a big deal. it takes a mantra that started rumbling in his chest back in the darkness of empty practice rooms for him to remind himself this isn’t about him, none of this will ever be about him. he is not lee hanbin, he is the lead vocal of a rookie group that means nothing to most people. he is still just a desperate kid who has to pay his dues if he wants to earn the luxury of a poor reaction on tape.

he stares back at himself. younger, though not much less mature. certainly not as tv-ready. but tranquil, undeterred. the tape cuts from his frontal during introduction to his profile, hands at the keyboard. someone teases him: a love song? i once believed that you were my savior / before drifting away. a love song.

the host makes a joke about how stiff his shoulders look, like he’s enlisting for the military. hanbin forces a smile, wonders what’s the difference somewhere in the back of his head, but the glaze over his eyes doesn’t quiver. he watches on.

there are few differences between the boy captured in grainy picture then and the man sitting under bright lights in the studio now. hanbin can’t say the several months of relentless training had left much of a mark on him, or even that he felt transcended after debuting. both the boy and hanbin know there are worse demons lurking beyond the mirrored walls and flaming calves. both the boy and hanbin are not really there.

the small instance where they differ is a single second, a breath never breathed, a flat line. that brief lapse of time is what makes of them complete strangers.

if he could feel, he would feel undead. his sandpaper eyes and clay skin, melting under the layers of dark upon dark, merging. parted lips to let the air in because it keeps sliding in uninvited, his nose doesn’t seem to work anymore. he had known what it is like to spend nights on no sleep and push the body to its limit, he had known what it is like to prepare for battle. there’s no exhaustion, no torpor, no pain. not even thoughts anymore.

nothing.

if he could feel, he would feel like a machine. more oxymora. his movements are robotic and his gaze is unblinking, shining dull and uninterrupted red. things happen around him. the wind rustles heavy treetops, the first golden leaves plunging to the floor with far less grace. figures clad in black fade in and out of view, sometimes they touch him. sometimes they talk and the words fall out of meaning. he is subtracted, removed. he hasn’t been there for a while.

nothing makes any sense. he had grabbed onto a faith he didn’t understand, he had been told this is not what’s supposed to happen. they’ll tell you anything when you’re sixteen and the only person that claims you as theirs is withering onto old sheets, blood and ointment stains collecting around her wrists, ether burning. they don’t him that is how this works: he is meant to believe against the plague taking her by the liver, he is meant to accept the defeat once he is told it’s a nine to one chance, he is meant to thank the stars above that she wouldn’t suffer anymore. it’s good that she doesn’t have to fight anymore, he should count her as lucky for having made it so far. they tell him this now, after the prayers and hands on shoulders and reminders for him to believe it enough, to will her out of that bed. how is it supposed to make sense. he is left to remain.

he is left with a life, the lungs accepting the air that pushes its way in, and school and practicing and father, his aunt’s apartment, the peering over shoulders, loud whispers. he is left with the life she had told him was worth fighting for, and he is left with the absence of her.

the breath rushes out of his lips, shoulders raising and falling. there could be a way out, a escape route. it could be a bus or a ferry or a bike, he could walk. he looks over towards the end of the empty street, pictures his frame disappearing down the lane, brain jolting awake, stumbling. he could leave, he could lose himself and never find his way back. he could be nothing and disappear, tune out into the silence of a long lost memory. he could be barely remembered one day even when the thought of him never left, the idea of him replacing the person who he is now. a picture on a frame, held by white-gloved hands.

millions of scenes pulse behind his eyes, untangling the past into the unhappened. he’s taken by desperation in an avalanche, but he feels, he feels.

can you please remember just this? / that I was once by your side.

he’s bawling into his hands again, small. stuck. remaining, with her absence.

remaining.

hanbin resists variety show appearances. he cannot refuse them, that is not the word someone uses when they are begging. for as long as he doesn’t absolutely bomb it, management will keep booking him wherever they’ll take him. and no one expects a performer not to dance when the fiddle plays -- he performs, despite himself.

still, he fears. the aggressiveness, the crossfires, the casualties. he’s too aware of the lengths people often go for an extra second of footage to make it onto air, never able to ignore how the single wrong word could set him back years.

you aren’t sick, are you? / i’m very worried.

he performs the excuses, too.

#in. reference #id. character development #wc. 1106 #pt. +5 exp

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kunoichi-ume · 7 years ago

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Emotional starters - if they're meant for asks -- ”The instant you start to feel something, you turn tail and run.”

Yes, that is totally what that was meant for. Thank you, this one was a doozy and I had to rewrite like three paragraphs when the power flickered and that part wasn’t saved (and sadly auto save didn’t catch all of it).

This is also my first time writing Theron Shan and my Jedi Consular Leena Jiin so that part was fun. Which also means their characters might be totally off but oh well.

emotional starters

Also on A03 as the first in my “SWTOR prompts” series.

Theron knew who would be on the other side of his doorbefore he opened it, but that didn’t stop the first words out of his mouth frombeing a surprised, “what are you doing here?”

Leena Jiin, Jedi Council Member and Barsen’thor of the Orderwas standing in the hallway outside his apartment and looking decidedly unhappywith him. She had her arms folded across her chest and her eyes were notexactly glaring at him like one would a piece of trash stuck on their shoe, butit was a near thing.

“We need to talk,” she said tersely, “and you have beenavoiding me Theron.”

“Have I?” He asked, trying to sound casual and not like herwords felt like a knife to the gut. ‘We need to talk’ was probably theworst thing to hear someone you were kinda-sorta involved with romanticallysay. He didn’t try to deny avoiding her, he had been, and he knew it. He hadgone out of his way to be busy or offworld when she was around ever sinceZiost.

“Yes, you have,” she said firmly before gesturing towardhim, “are you going to let me come in or would you like to have a deeplypersonal conversation in your hallway?”

Theron sighed heavily, he knew he couldn’t avoid her foreverbut never imagined she would turn up at his apartment, unannounced, in themiddle of the night. Part of his brain, the same part that drove him to avoid her for the last few weeks, told him to shut the door. That maybe she wouldgo away, and he could put off this moment for a later date. Again. But anotherpart noticed the stiffness of her shoulders, how her long hair was left looseinstead of in the proper bun he had always seen it except once on Yavin IV, thefrown pulling at her lips and the redness around her eyes and he couldn’t bringhimself to send her away. Not when she was so obviously upset and shaken,probably by his own stupid actions. He stepped back into his apartment and heldthe door open for her.

She didn’t say anything, just nodded her head and steppedinto his home for the first time. He shut the door and they stood there, in theentryway awkwardly for a moment before he realized what a jerk he was being.

“We can talk in here,” he said as he led her into his smallliving room. It was more an office for him, with various tech and datapadscovering most of the horizontal surfaces, and a few of the vertical ones aswell, but there was a couch along the back wall that was comfortable enough tosleep on. He knew this from lots of experience.

She sat on one side of the couch, the small bag she hadslung over her shoulder set on the floor at her feet, and looked up at himexpectantly.

“Do… I mean would you like something to drink? I haveCorelian brandy, or I could make tea?” He offered, hoping she would say yes andgive him an excuse to escape from her sight for a moment to collect himself. Asa spy he was usually better at thinking on his feet, but Leena threw a wrenchinto every part of his life it seemed.

“Theron would you please just sit with me, I’ve missed you.”The way she said it, looking up at him with an expression that was equal partssorrow and hope, he couldn’t deny her.

He sat on the other side of the couch, leaving the middleopen between them and leaned forward. Hebraced his elbows on his knees and fiddled with his fingers nervously. He knewshe was here for an explanation, that was obvious, and if he was honest withhimself he knew she deserved one.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, his voice was quiet butstill sounded loud in his ears compared to the stillness of the room. “I’msorry I’m so shit at all of this I just… on Ziost there was a time when Ididn’t know-” he paused struggling for the words for a moment. “I didn’t knowif you made it off the surface before, well before. I’ve never been so scaredLeena, I couldn’t…” His voice trailed off and he squeezed his eyes shut tight, asmemories of that day came rushing back to him. The horror of the reports comingin from his contacts, the way he felt like he couldn’t breathe when he realizedLeena was still down there when he left, the panic when she didn’t respond tohis messages. For almost 6 hours he feared she was dead, and the pain was overwhelming.He wasn’t a stranger to death, people in his line of work never were, but her death undid his calm in a waynothing else ever had. He gripped his hands tightly as the phantom pain ofmemory clouded his mind.

Theron would like to think he didn’t jump when he felt herhand, smaller than his but warm and soft, on his own but he did. He opened his eyesand turned to her. She had moved from her side to the couch to sit right nextto him. She was looking at his hands, using her own to gently separate his fingersand take the pressure off his whitened knuckles. When his hands separated sheslid her hand into one of his, interlacing their fingers and giving acomforting squeeze.

When she looked up at him her eyes were bright, not quiteteary but more wet than normal.

“And why did that bother you so much?”

Theron stared at her incredulously, “are you really askingme that? I thought you were dead Leena, why wouldn’t that bother me?”

She licked her lips, and he had to force himself not tostare. It was hard not to, this was the closest she had been to him in a month.She was practically pressed up against his side she was sitting so close andher hand in his was warm and just feltright. He could even smell her hair, the fragrant shampoo she favored bringing up memoriesof the hour they snuck away from the others on Yavin IV to be alone. He desperatelywanted to revisit that time, back when things were looking up and he wasn’tterrified about what was between them.

“Theron, that was hardly the first time I have been indanger, and need I remind you of the various dangerous missions you yourselfsent me on?”

He fell back against the couch, inadvertently pulling herwith him, and stared at the ceiling. “Please don’t, I remember them.” And he did,each and every one of them. He had been practically haunted by them sinceZiost, going over them in his mind and pinpointing every time he put her in unnecessarydanger starting from the moment they had met. He had counted at least 27 timesshe could have been seriously hurt or died because he sent her into a situationwithout the proper information or backup.

“So why did this one time have such an affect? Why did thistime make you pull away from me? I thought…well I thought you shared my feelingsfor you.” Her voice had gotten progressively softer as she spoke, her lastwords little more than a mournful whisper.

He turned slightly to face her, using his free hand to lifther chin to meet his eyes. “I do Leena. I care about you more than, well morethan I’ve cared about anyone before.”

She smiled at him, leaning into his hand as he cupped hercheek.

“Then why are you avoiding me like I have the rakghoul plague?”She asked, her tone light in the wake of his confession.

That made him laugh softly and he felt the fear that hadbeen twisting in his gut for so long loosen a little just by her presence. Hersmile always had a way of making him feel better, regardless of the situation.

He considered giving her a half explanation, glossing overhis insecurities and fears, but his mouth was faster than the paranoid voice inhis head this one time.

“I’m scared Leena.” He said honestly, “I don’t know how todo this relationship stuff, not without messing it up spectacularly, and I don’twant to put you through that. I don’t want to hurt you like that. I feel like Iwould rather relive Revan’s hospitality than see you cry.”

“So, what, the instant you start to feel something, you turntail and run?”

“Well it sounds bad when you put it that way.”

“Is there a way to word it that doesn’t sound bad?” She asked with a smile before she relaxed againsthis side. “So, you have been avoiding me because you care, and you don’t wantto ruin things between us?”

“Pretty much yeah,” he sighed. “So now that you know what anemotionally deficient excuse of a man I am do you want to turn and run?”

She shook her head, “there is nowhere I would rather be.You know I’m scared too Theron. I don’t know how any of this works, it goesagainst the code I’ve lived my life by, but I cannot deny how I feel about you. So,I’ve decided to be brave and see where this takes us.”

Theron stared at her openly, surprised by her confession. Hehad seen Leena face hordes of pirates and Revanites, watched her sack the SithAcademy and retake the Jedi Temple – with no rest in-between – and even challengingRevan himself without so much as a hint of fear, but this scared her? As muchas it scared him?

She let her words sink in for a long quiet moment before shereached for him, her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him closer to her.Face to face, barely two inches between them she asked him a question that madehis breath catch in his throat.

“Will you be brave too?”

He answered by closing the distance between them, his lipson hers, and pulling her partly into his lap. He buried his hand in her hair atthe back of her head and groaned when she nipped his lip. She took advantage ofhis reaction and deepened the kiss. He grabbed her leg and moved it, so she wasstraddling his lap, hand splayed on her back to press her close. He neededthat, to feel her, here, alive and know that his fears were all unfounded. Hehadn’t lost her, he hadn’t sent her on a suicide mission as his nightmaresoften showed him.

She was here, pulling his shirt up to run her fingers acrosshis chest and moaning into his mouth when he slipped his hand into her robes totease her nipple. He was painfully hard, memories of Yavin IV once againswirling in his mind and he ground his pelvis up against hers for some much-neededfriction. There was far too much clothing between them for his comfort.

Leena gasped at the contact, pulling back to take severaldeep breaths before laughing and smiling down at him.

“Can I take that as an enthusiastic yes?”

He nodded, “yes. I am sorry I was such an idiot. There isnothing I want more than to be with you as often as possible.”

She leaned down, cupping his face in her hands and kissedhim, a deep, slow kiss that made him shiver below her. She pulled back just farenough to lean her forehead against his.

“I think that can be arranged.”

Theron was thinking about standing, taking her with him –and damn if the idea of holding her with her legs around his hips didn’t makehis head spin with pleasure – and taking her to his bed to make up for the lastmonth when his thoughts were interrupted.

She groaned, burying her face into his neck as though thatwould change the fact her comm was incessantly chiming.

“Just ignore it,” he said, running his hands up her back andthrough her hair.

She shook her head and leaned away from him, “I can’t. Itold Nadia that I was only to be disturbed tonight if it was truly important.”She moved to get up and reach her bag, but he held her hips to keep her inplace on top of him.

“What could be so important it can’t wait until tomorrow?”He asked with a cheeky smile.

His brazen words made her laugh, but she lightly smacked herhands away and stood up anyway. He watched her dig through her bag and pull outher comm device. It must have been a text communication because she didn’t activatethe holo but whatever it said made her gasp.

He was on his feet in a second, standing next to her and placinga hand on her shoulder. “What is it?”

She turned and looked up at him with wide eyes, “Darth Marr.He called my ship, Nadia says he thinks he found the Emperor. He’s requested Imeet up with him as soon as possible.”

Theron frowned at the thought of a Dark Council member withher direct contact information, former ally of convenience or not he didn’tlike it, but that was not the pressing matter of the moment. “Where is he?”

She looked back down at the comm, “on the edge of wildspace, out past Ilum. It will take some time to get there, I need to leave.”

He nodded, “yeah of course.” He didn’t want her to, honestly,he had never wanted anything more than for her to stay here, in his arms, bothto continue what they were doing earlier and to know she was safe.

But of all the “important” things to draw her away from hisbed, this was a doozy. He didn’t know Marr well of course, but he was confidentthe man wouldn’t exaggerate. If he thought he had found signs of the Emperor’slocation he meant it.

Theron pulled her into his arms, burying his nose into herhair and breathing in her scent deeply. “Promise me,” he said, his voiceslightly muffled to cover the shakiness of it, “promise me you will be careful.”

She took a half step back and pulled him down by his shirtto press a kiss against his lips. “I promise. I will be home soon,” she said,and he felt stupidly happy that she was referring to here, with him, as home.

Leena picked up her bag, and he walked her to the door. Theykissed again, a soft, loving kiss that was a promise of things to come when shereturned.

And then she left, walking out of his apartment and hislife.

#Swtor #Theron Shan #Jedi Consular #OC: Leena Jiin #My writing #emotional starters

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paradisobound · 7 years ago

Text

Piecing Together My Mind

Written for the Reverse Big Bang 2017!

Summary: When Dan is the victim of a terrible car accident, he suffers unbelievable trauma to his brain. As a result, only a few doctors in the world can perform the operation that is needed for him to recover: one the doctors being Phil Lester from America. Through the surgery and his recovery, Phil is there for him every step of the way, leading them into a spiral of love no one can predict, which eventually gains attention and popularity through a book written by Dan.

Artist: @audaw

Beta: @carditawrites

Rating: Mature (for the themes involved)

Warnings: hospital settings, car accident, surgery

Word Count: 10,763

Authors Note: When I first began to write this fic, it came really easily and I was so happy with it. The car accident depicted was actually based upon my own car accident, just more dramatically, because I felt like I needed to vent it out and this fic was perfect for it. Through the process of writing, I went from nearly finishing it in one sitting to not touching it for months, and then finishing it all in one sitting. And it’s been a ride lol. But I seriously wouldn’t be able to do it without the help of my awesome beta @carditawrites because she literally helped give me so much inspiration for this! I really hope you all enjoy it as well! Happy reading! :)

In hindsight, Dan should have stayed home. He shouldn’t have attempted to get into his car and drive off in the severe downpour that was washing away the streets. He should have just waited until it stopped. But at the time, he thought the rain was going to stop and he would be able to make it to his parent’s house.

His mind was already clouded with dark afterthoughts and his eyes were blurry with unshed tears as the thought of the break up plagued his head. Maybe if Damien had just waited a few more hours, he wouldn’t have felt so inclined to travel back to his parents’ home in a complete downpour.

Dan could barely see the road in front of him, his headlights not making much of a leeway in this darkness. The glare from the lines on the road weren’t helping his already blurred eyes. Maybe he should have just pulled off and wait until the rain lets up. There wasn’t even a way that he could continue to drive in this.

But his mind told him that he was going to fine and the weather was going to change. The rain was going to stop soon and he would run out of it. So he powered on, his fists gripping the steering wheel tightly to the point where his knuckles were white; his foot moving over the gas pedal and then to the break when he needed to slow down.

He didn’t even know how long he had been driving now. It had been at least an hour. Maybe he wasn’t even going in the right direction. To be fair, he couldn’t tell. His windshield wipers were going as fast as they could and they still weren’t fast enough. They were beating away the rain that Dan just willed to stop so he could get to the safe haven of his parents. He craved their attention in ways that he couldn’t nearly describe. All he wanted to do was cry to them about how much he loved Damien and how heart broken he was.

The slip… he felt it within the first couple seconds. The tires on the car were fighting to pass through the water that was on the road. Dan’s foot found the break and he pressed it, willing his car to slow down but it wasn’t working. The back of his car had a mind of it’s own, swinging out right and he heard the noise. Metal on metal in a collision that will forever haunt Dan’s mind.

He didn’t remember what happened after that. Maybe a couple of turns and possibly some more colliding. All he knew was that the airbags deployed, leaving his flesh with black and blue marks that would later sting when he took a breath.

For the first few moments after the accident, Dan was conscious enough to realize the severity of it all. His car was upside down somewhere and his head burned with pain. His limbs felt tired and exhausted and he knew he needed to get out, call for help and pray that someone would come by and see him.

He went to move when his arm felt like it was grinding against shard glass. He cried out, trying his best to just escape but he knew he wasn’t going to do this by himself. He needed to get help.

His arm was moving to the passenger seat for his phone when he heard the first siren come. It was far enough away where the sound didn’t hurt his ears but close enough that he knew he was going to get help.

But he didn’t get to see the police officers and ambulance arrive, because his sight went black just moments before and his body fell limp.

The distant beeping was what pulled him from the void that clouded his mind. He opened his eyes and then immediately closed them when white fluorescent lights filled his vision. It was too bright in there: he needed it to be darker.

His body had other plans though, and his eyes reopened. It took a moment to adjust before he processed where he even was. Was he dead? Was this heaven? Was that why he was suddenly being blinded by the light? He was no believer in God but maybe after this, he would be.

After a moment of adjustment, he was able to come to his senses and realize that he was in an all white room. Cords littered the floors as they led out of his body in various places. The distant beeping wasn’t a weird noise that he was just hearing; it was his heart monitor.

His eyes hurt to adjust but quickly a pair of blue scrubs came into view and he opened them wider to see who was in front of him. A perky blonde in all blue scrubs was stood at his bedside, a clipboard in hand and stethoscope around her neck. “Good morning, Mr. Howell. We’re extremely happy to see you’re awake!”

Dan turned his head and whimpered at the ache of pain in his neck. His muscles felt stiff and unmoved, his mouth felt like cotton and as he opened it to ask for pain meds, he realized he wanted water a lot more. “Wa—wat—water,” he croaked out.

The nurse quickly moved around the bed and came back with a clear cup filled with the cool liquid. She handed it to Dan, who reached up to grab it when he realized he couldn’t move his arm very fell. Maybe it was the stiff muscles, but it took some shaky movements to get to the cup where the nurse helped him ingest the refreshing liquid.

When the cup was empty, the nurse moved it back to the side before looking him over. “How is your pain, Mr. Howell?”

“H-hurts,” he croaked out, his head now pounding and his lower body radiating pain. He didn’t know if it was from the movements he was doing now after being dormant for so long or from the accident…

The accident. The memory suddenly flooded his head. He had gotten into a car accident: he knew that much, but he couldn’t remember what happened or what had caused it.

“Well, we can't have you be in pain, can we?” the blonde stated as she picked up a syringe and injected the liquid medication into his IV. The long tube was connected to an area in his arm, scaring him slightly, but he looked like a machine being fed by wires.

Nearly instantly, his pain began to lesson and he relaxed into the bed, noting the terrible quality of the mattress he was lying on. “Do you know what happened, Dan?”

The sudden use of his first name made him turn his head a lot quicker than he should have. He groaned inwardly to himself at the movement and willed his muscles to relax to ease the pain. “No,” he finally said softly, his voice hoarse and raspy.

“Well, I’ll wait for the doctor to tell you then,” she said sympathetically. “You were conscious for the first few minutes in the hospital and I didn’t know if you were aware then?”

Dan shook his head softly, leaning back into the bed and shutting his eyes. Just this simple conversation was using all of his energy. He felt drained and ready to sleep all over again. He just wanted to relax further.

“You’re welcome to relax, Dan,” she said gently. “The doctor is now aware that you are awake and he’ll be wanting to speak with you soon, okay?”

Dan wanted to nod, but instead he let go of a shallow breath and shut his eyes. He let the nurse continue her routine vital checks as he felt poked and prodded all over again. She checked his breathing, his blood pressure, his IV drip, and a bit more that Dan couldn’t tell.

It wasn’t long after she was finished that he heard a soft knock against the door and the creak of it opening. He opened his eyes long enough to notice a tall middle aged man with a white coat enter his room. This had to be the doctor. His grey hair and glasses gave way that he was an experienced man and Dan didn’t know if that made him feel better or not.

“Are you finished, Louise?” the male boomed out in a deep voice.

The nurse, called Louise, nodded her head before exiting the room and taking the cart of equipment with her in the process. Meanwhile, the doctor was now pulling up a seat next to Dan’s bed, which scared Dan because this had to be obviously serious. There would be no other reason for the doctor to be sitting, other than telling him bad news. Maybe he was going to die after all.

The thought scared him more than the idea of being hurt.

“How are you feeling, Dan?”

Dan felt the urge to shrug his shoulders, but he didn’t know if he was able to do that action so he just replied, “Okay,” instead.

“Well, that’s good,” The doctor noted. “My name is Dr. Meny and I was your surgeon last night.”

Surgeon. Dan knew that wasn’t good. He had gone through surgery and never even known it.

“You see,” Dr. Meny continued. “If you cannot remember, you were the victim of a very serious car crash. You were brought to me at the emergency room last night, and had appeared fine. However, after just a few minutes within the ER, you began to fall into a seizure. Unknowing what could have caused this, we notified your next of kin - your parents - and they told us you had no history of seizures. Confused, we performed a CT Scan of the brain and noticed that you have swelling, which is what we call cerebral edema, or excess fluid within the walls of the brain cells. Now, noting this, our next priority was decreasing the pressure as much as possible because if there is a lot of pressure inside the skull, blood will not flow to that section of the brain and therefore, it can lead to very serious health conditions. This includes seizures, strokes, and even death.” He paused for a moment.

Dan took the time to process what he was hearing and a single tear escaped down his cheek as he thought the worst. He was going to die and this was the doctor telling him that he only had a short time to live. He knew it. Reaching a hand up, he felt the bandage around his head that he had never felt before. He moved his hand back down and allowed for the doctor to speak to him more.

“Now, do not think that this isn’t treatable,” Dr. Meny said reassuringly. “This can be treatable and that is why we operated last night in an emergency surgery. We went in and tried to relieve the pressure by removing some of the extra fluid because, you see, when the accident occurred, you did damage to your head. And I'm sure you probably are feeling the symptoms of it, like memory loss.” Dan nodded slowly, because he was experiencing that.“But the surgery was unsuccessful. We were not able to remove that fluid.”

“So what does that mean?” Dan asked just as soon as the doctor's words were finished. “Why wasn’t it able to fixed if it’s treatable?”

“Well, here is the thing,” The doctor began, “We think that there is something further inside of the brain that isn’t allowing for the swelling to go down. We think there is some trauma further down that we are not seeing. Since we are not specialists on the brain, we can only do so much.”

“But what can I do?” Dan pleaded. “What options are there for me?”

The doctor pulled out a notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped open the cover, “In the time that you have been recovering, we have found three surgeons in the world that are able to work inside the brain in a precise way that will not damage the brain. We have contacted all of them and two have responded,” he pulled out a pen and wrote some things on his notepad. “However, until we can find out which one will be willing to take on your case, we are obligated not to disclose their information.”

Dan seethed inside of his head. Why couldn’t he know who would be opening his head up and drilling into his brain? Wasn’t he important enough to find out?

“When will we find out?”

“Well,” Dr. Meny began. “We heard back from one of the two doctors, this one being from America, who is willing to fly out and consult you to do the surgery. However, we have not heard back from the other doctor—”

“I want the first one,” Dan spat out. “I want the one that is willing to fly from America to here to do my procedure.”

“Are you sure?” Dr. Meny asked, scribbling something else on his notepad.

“Yes,” Dan spoke out. “I want them to do the procedure because they’re clearly willing to fly over here to see me, so they deserve to operate on me.”

“But this needs careful—”

“Why?” Dan asked in a spiteful manner. “Why would I need to be careful about this? My brain is swelled. Remember, you told me so. This could mean so much and…” Dan felt his voice get choked up. “I want to be able to have a doctor who wants to do the procedure for me instead of doing it for the money. That’s all.”

“Dan, I just want to reiterate that—”

“I know,” Dan interrupted, “I want that doctor.”

Dr. Meny sighed and wrote something more on his notepad before standing up from his sitting position, “I will have my secretary contact the doctor and we’ll go from there.”

“Am I able to know the doctors name now?” Dan asked, relaxing into the bed as a strong headache began to form in the back of his skull.

“His name is Dr. Philip Lester and he’s a prized Neurosurgeon from Los Angeles.”

Dan nodded, half listening to the words as the pain in his head began to radiate towards his eyes and his vision clouded. Groaning in discomfort, he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped onto the blankets of his hospital bed with white knuckles as he willed for the pain meds to take over and take away this God-awful pain.

His wish was soon granted as he slipped into a black void as his body refused to fight the pain.

They had him Skype with Dr. Lester that afternoon, following the arrival of Dan’s parents who were worried sick over their son. Dr. Meny had reassured Dan multiple times that he was going to be okay and that he could do all normal, everyday things but he just had to be wary of his head and hitting it on surfaces too hard. For instance, like Dr. Lester later explained, lying down in bed or on a couch too fast.

But that still didn’t help his worry.

With his laptop sat on the conveniently placed table, he Skyped with this Philip Lester and felt his worries simultaneously diminish and also increase. On the screen, Dr. Lester appeared to be extremely professional as he spoke to Dan in the comfort of his office. The time difference was very clear but that didn’t seem to affect Dr. Lester at all.

Dr. Lester explained to Dan that his life was not going to be affected at all if he can help it. In fact, he had already booked a flight straight to the UK to see Dan the following day which Dan thought was extremely generous. He’d never heard of a doctor doing this before but in all honesty, he liked that.

The Skype call didn’t last long, because Dr. Lester told him that he was going to consult with him tomorrow more about what he can do to help Dan out. In the meantime, Dan was just worried about something else happening to alter his already swelled mind.

This worry was aggravated since earlier in the day, just as Dr. Meny was about to leave, Dan fell into another seizure that he had to be brought out of. He came out exhausted and ready to collapse. He couldn’t remember that it happened, but he had a sinking feeling that it had occurred.

Once Dan was alone with his parents again, they questioned him about Damien. But Dan didn’t even know who Damien was. Apparently, Damien was Dan’s boyfriend., but Dan couldn’t remember him. He didn’t even know of anyone named Damien.

A picture was showed to him from his nearly destroyed mobile phone which confirmed to him that he, in fact, did know a Damien and he was somehow involved with Dan. Another quick look at his text messages proved that whatever he had with Damien had fizzled out because of another person named “Becky”.

“Are you sure that you don’t remember him, Dan?” Dan’s father stated in a helpful manner as he sat at Dan’s bedside.

Dan shook his head as slowly and carefully as possible because no, he did not remember him. Frankly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. It had to be a blessing that his short term memory was altered so he couldn’t remember Damien and anything he did.

“Well, I guess that’s okay,” Dan’s mother piped in, “Right, John?”

Dan’s father nodded before reaching out and taking Dan’s hand in his own, squeezing his palm gently. Dan looked down at their clasped hands and smiled. He will be forever grateful for the love and support he received from his parents all this time.

“So the doctor comes in tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes, he should be here in the morning.”

“But when will the surgery be?”

Dan shrugged his shoulders carefully. “Hopefully soon,” he said. “I don’t want any more damage to be done and I want whatever damage I do have to be fixed.”

“We know, Daniel,” his mother added. “But we’re very scared right now.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

Dan tried to fake a smile to tell her that he was okay but it faltered and tears cascaded down his cheeks like a stream. He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be okay. He always joked about death but now that he was on the verge of death, it was terrifying him. He never got to fulfill his life. He hadn’t done what he was set out to do. If he was to die now, he wouldn’t have a lasting impression on anyone.

He needed to be remembered by something. If he didn’t make a lasting impression, then what did he ever do with his life besides waste it away?

A book.

Dan was going to write a book. But a book on what? He was fighting within himself mentally to the point where he was giving himself another headache. What would he write a book about?

Then the idea hit him.

He would write a book about this. About the car accident and what he remembered; about his fight for life as his brain swelled; about the doctor who was gonna save his life. He was gonna write a memoir. He was already thinking of the ideas for it in his head.

He was going to make a difference. If he survived this battle, he was going to show everyone what he went through: the seizures that he never used to have; the memory loss; everything.

“What are your thoughts right now, Daniel?” His mother asked, placing a hand over his fathers that was still clasped in Dan’s own hand.

“I want to survive this,” Dan stated, with a newfound courage in his voice. “I will survive this. Dr. Lester will help me. He’ll heal me and find the damage that is causing my seizures and pain.”

“Yes, Daniel,” she added. “God is looking over you in ways that we cannot believe.”

Dan had to agree with her words. He was a self-proclaimed Atheist but even he had to admit that this was somewhat of a miracle.

“Why don’t you get some rest, Daniel?” His father said suddenly, reaching behind him and undoing their hands so he could fluff Dan’s pillows, “I think you deserve to sleep for a little bit and rest your eyes.”

Dan had to agree with that as well. He was exhausted in ways that he simply couldn’t describe. His eyelids weighed heavily on his lashes and his mouth fought back a yawn. Shutting his eyes, this time with his own control, he relaxed into the bed and succumbed to the brink of sleep that was overtaking him.

“Dan.” Louise, his nurse, spoke as he carefully chewed away at a piece of toast. “Dr. Lester has just arrived to the hospital and is requesting to see you immediately. Is it okay for him to come in?”

Dan nodded, finishing up his bite of food before brushing the crumbs off from his hands onto the bedding that was surrounding his tired and bruised legs. He saw his body for the first time last night when he used the bathroom. The mirror didn’t lie when it showed him a discolored face with a bruised left side; cuts and scratches that littered his stomach and bruises that littered his chest, and the dark marks that stung on his thighs when he walked. He nearly cried because for the first time in his life, Dan didn’t recognize the man staring back at him in the mirror.

He had one more seizure that night. He woke up briefly before he fell into it, the machines going crazy as this one became the strongest and worst one yet that Dan has experienced. The nurses murmured about him. He heard their talk as they all discussed how Dan needs to be seen. The more seizures he has, the worse his brain would be and the more damage he would have: permanent damage that would change his life forever.

Dan’s parents were waiting in agony to hear about what Dr. Lester has to say. They wanted to stay by Dan’s side but Dan didn’t want them to worry so he sent them to a hotel for the night instead. He was sure that they were probably at the hospital, sitting in the waiting room while they thought Dan was still asleep. And hell, Dan still would be, considering the time was six in the morning but he had to be woken up for vital checks every few hours and they got the best of him last night.

“Yes,” Dan said to Louise, “I’m really eager to see him.”

Nearly a minute later, a soft knock echoed into his room and Dan watched as the door slowly opened. A raven haired man walked through the door with glasses that bridged the top of his nose. When he turned to Dan’s direction, Dan felt all breath leave his body as he stared into his deep blue eyes.

This had to be Dr. Lester.

“Pleasure to finally see you, Dan.,” He spoke with soft, careful words. “I’m sure you already know but incase you don’t, I’m Dr. Lester. It’s great to meet you in person and not over a webcam.”

Dan smiled at him. Not just a small friendly smile but a full big smile because he already felt better with him here. Dr. Lester gave off this presence that significantly made Dan feel better.

Dr. Lester’s hand stretched out to Dan’s and Dan took it in a warm handshake.“Nice to meet you too, Dr. Lester.”

“Oh please!” he said pulling up a seat next to Dan and taking out a medical chart. “You can call me Phil since I’m going to be seeing more of you than you probably want.”

Dan could have choked. Seriously, if he had been eating, he would have because that crude humor was exactly what Dan liked. He knew instantly he was going to like this guy.

“That came out really wrong,” Phil chuckled like a high schooler. “Oh, what a great first impression I have made. My excuse is that jet lag has gotten the better of me this morning.”

Before Dan could get any words in, Phil interjected again with the medical talk nearly immediately, “I have reviewed your CT scans and can tell already that the doctors here have missed a vital part of what is causing the swelling. From what I have seen, I can tell you are bleeding inside of your brain. The damage suffered is quite extensive and is quite definitely what is causing the seizures. Now, here is the problem: I will need to go into your brain within the next 24 hours because if any more bleeding occurs, life threatening instances will occur, and I don’t want that happening okay?”

Dan nodded slowly, having trouble keeping down his breakfast after hearing Phil’s words. Goosebumps crawled up his skin and prickled at his nerves. His stomach twisted into knots and squeezed as he processed the words that were just spoken to him. The more he thought about the phrase “life threatening instances will occur”, the worse his stomach felt and he temporarily looked around just in case he needed to expel his breakfast somewhere.

“So what we are going to do, is that I’m going to do a final CT scan on you. What that scan is going to show is what I will be working with here. If your brain is swelled further, it’s going to make my job much more difficult. But do not worry! I will fix the problem,” Phil then leans over the bed, causing Dan to wonder what he’s doing until Phil shows him a graphic template of a brain on an iPad that shows exactly what Phil is going to do. “So here is the plan: you are going to be awake for the entire thing, just sedated. I am going to open up the cranial flap large enough to open the skull and reveal the brain. Once inside, I’m going to carefully relieve the fluid in a determined way so that all the swelling will decrease. Once the swelling goes down, I will go further into the brain and use a clamp to cut off the blood flow wherever you are bleeding. Once the bleeding is done, I’ll cauterize the artery. By the looks of it, the bleeding is coming from just above the cerebral cortex, which is a big deal because if the bleeding doesn't stop, you can go into shock. This can cause anything from paralysis to stroke, to an aneurism to death.” Dan nodded slowly to Phil’s words. “During the procedure, you’re going to be speaking with me. This is how I will know that I haven’t hit anything in the brain that can be life threatening. Do not be afraid, okay, Dan? Everything is going to be fine.”

“I’m really scared,” were the only words that came out of Dan’s mouth.

Phil nodded, pulling the iPad away and setting his belongings on the end of Dan’s bed. He reached out and grabbed Dan’s hand, noting the loss of color within Dan’s skin, and squeezed softly. Dan was shaking slightly, his body feeling fear from the impending operation. What Dan didn’t know was that Phil was nervous too but Phil couldn’t begin to even imagine the fear that must be setting inside of Dan as he spoke. “I know, Dan,” he said sympathetically but at the same time he knew his words would be helpless. “I’m nervous too because this is the hardest procedure I’ve ever done, but I have full confidence that I’m going to get it. I’m going to heal you.”

Dan took a deep, shuddering breath before nodding and smiling softly at Phil. “I trust you.”

“I know,” Phil reiterated. “Now, I have to go over the risks. Anything done to the brain is a risk in itself. Although it’s never happened to me, one slip could be fatal. Any little slip from me and my scalpel can cause paralysis or death, but that’s not gonna happen.”

Dan nodded and took another deep breath, “So when does this happen?”

“If we can get your CT scan done this morning, I can do the surgery this afternoon.”

“That soon?”

Phil nodded. “The sooner the better.”

Phil’s hand released from Dan’s long enough for a new nurse to come in and begin prepping Dan’s for his CT Scan. Dan was amazed at the quick work of the doctors and nurses at this hospital, but Phil quickly mentioned that he put the order in as soon as he arrived this morning. Phil was just as shocked about the quick work.

Dan was wheeled to the nuclear imaging center of the hospital where he was shifted from his bed to another much less padded and much colder gurney. He was instructed to lay flat as they adjusted the lead protective shields around him. He’d groan and whimper if a nurse was too rough with him. Moments later, a loud voice boomed through the speaker next to him that caused him to relax: it was Phil.

“We’re about to start the scan now,” Phil said. “We’re going to move you inside of the camera now where you will be scanned. The test should go by fast and I’ll be here to speak with you the entire time.”

The bed underneath him suddenly shifted and he looked to see that he was moving forward into this cylinder that reminded him of a coffin. He felt like everything was closing in on him and he gripped the sheets under him, claustrophobia setting in.

“Dan,” Phil’s voice spoke out to him. “Dan? Can you calm down for us? Your heart rate and brain activity have suddenly spiked.”

“I’m sorry,” Dan spoke out, mostly in a whisper.

“It’s okay, Dan,” Phil coaxed. “Everything is going to be okay. I know that it’s hard to believe right now but you’re going to be okay.”

Dan didn’t move but he felt like he needed to relieve the pressure and tension from his shoulder blades. A weight was now sat on them, making him feel even more weighed down than the lead blanket that had given him to protect from radiation.

“Okay, we’re about to start the scan so stay as still as possible, got it?”

Dan didn’t reply. Instead he felt the hair on his body prickle up from the radiation. It made a small shiver go through his spine at the thought of the scan he was going through pumping his body full of toxic chemicals. But to Dan, this definitely isn’t the worst thing to happen right now. The worst thing would be him falling into a seizure on this gurney.

Dan could still feel and hear the buzzing around himself as the scan continued. He didn’t hear anything from Phil over the speaker for a while, until Phil told him the scan was almost over. Just a few moments after that, Dan heard the buzzing stop and he was soon being retracted from the cold metal tube he was just inside.

As Dan was helped back onto the gurney, his head throbbed with pain and he felt the need to reach out and grab onto whatever he could hold. Within moments, his vision blacked and his worst fears came true as he fell into another seizure: right there in the room as Phil ran to his help.

This one was a lot harder to come out of. His body was just so tired of fighting it and he wanted them to just stop completely. When he opened his eyes slowly, Phil was staring at him with concern laced over his face. He reached out, pushing Dan’s fringe away from his eyes and tucked it gently behind his ear. Dan relaxed into the touch, his body still tense and rigid.

“You won’t have this hair for much longer,” Phil said with a gentle smile. “But to be fair, I think you’ll look fine bald.”

“Hmm,” Dan voiced. “I don’t know about that.”

Dan’s words were slurred and showed of exhaustion.

Phil smiled at him. “We’re going to do your surgery in a few hours, okay?” he stated. “But when you keep falling into seizures, it makes it hard for us because we need to ensure you’re not going to have one when you’re being operated on.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Phil said, running his hands gently through Dan’s exposed hair. “I know they’re not your fault,” he said. “But do you know when you’re about to fall into one?”

Dan nodded softly. “I get a headache and then my vision blurs.”

“So you’ll be able to tell me if you start feeling one?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s all I need to know,” Phil stated to Dan as he retracted his hand from Dan’s hair. Dan visibly shook from the cold chill he got when the touch was left. He felt like a puppy who just wanted to be petted and have attention. “After your recovery, do you think you would care to join me for lunch?”

Dan opened his eyes a little bit more, even though they were still heavy with exhaustion. “Possibly,” he spoke. “As long as you can guarantee that I’ll still be alive.”

“Then it’s a date.”

Dan smiled to himself, finding himself blushing at the forwardness that Phil was showing to him. He felt good at the presence of Phil. He liked having Phil here: it made him feel safe and secure.

“I need to go and get prepared but I’ll see you in a few hours okay?”

Dan smiled at him. “Okay, Dr. Lester.”

Phil smiled back at him as he stood up from where he was sat and walked towards the door. He gave Dan one last look before exiting the room, leaving Dan shaking like a leaf as the nerves of the surgery kicked in.

The operating room was cold. Dan had asked for a blanket as he sat up on the operating table. A back support for him braced against his spine as he was told he’d be sitting for awhile. According to Phil, the surgery could take anywhere from 2 hours to 8 hours depending on what he found once inside his brain. But regardless of the time it would take, Phil was going to fix him.

He was slowly being sedated with a list of medication that Dan didn’t even know. He was still awake but he was numb everywhere and couldn’t even move his own arm. The idea of being in a temporary paralysis was quite terrifying but the thought of having his brain wide open for Phil was worse.

Per the request of his parent’s, they had the hospital pastor come into his room and say a prayer for him right before he was wheeled away for surgery. Dan had cried hysterically to his mother before he left, telling her he was scared of it. She tried her best to help him out of the fear but when she was fearful herself, it was hard. He had Phil’s reassurance and guidance to help him through this but he was still terrified out of his mind.

Right before Phil was set to enter the operating room, the anesthesiologist come in with a syringe and went to inject the liquid into Dan. “What is that?” he slurred.

“Dr. Lester has requested you be fully sedated for the procedure after all. He is saying that the risks are too high to leave you in a mild sedative.”

Dan felt himself start to panic. He had been told this entire time that Phil would talk with him through the procedure and now he was going to be knocked out. What about if he got knocked out and then never woke back up? He’d be put to sleep quite literally.

He was terrified now. His body shaking even though it was paralyzed and now he was on the verge of tears. “Take two deep breaths, Dan.”

Dan struggled to take in the one when he felt the world around him begin to spin. Just as his vision was blacking out, he watched Phil put his gloves on as he walked into the operating room.

One Week Later

“How are you feeling, Dan?”

Dan sat up straighter in his hospital bed, his head still slightly sore but his body feeling much more recuperate. He eyed Phil up and down as he stepped inside in his typical hospital attire.

“Really good!” Dan finally answered.

“That’s great!” Phil answered, moving forward and sitting down next to Dan at his bedside.

Dan’s surgery had taken nearly six hours. Phil worked until he found every last thing wrong and he fixed every single one. His surgery was a pure success and Phil had never been so proud of the fact that he completed such a dangerous surgery.

It was after the surgery that really showed Phil’s generosity to Dan. Phil was supposed to fly back a few days prior but had decided to stay until Dan was fully recovered. He predicted that within six weeks, Dan’s healing would be nearly complete but six months would be when he saw full change back into normality.

At one week later, Dan was beginning to see the signs that normality was on the horizon. Just one day after the surgery, the nurses had him up and walking around to make sure he hadn’t suffered any onset nerve damage. Phil didn’t think Dan would but he still watched from the sidelines as Dan walked slowly up and down the hallways.

By the second day, Dan was feeling really good. The nurses removed his bandages for the first time and he was able to see the intricate stitch work of Phil that went halfway around his head. He felt a little destress over seeing his hair being gone but Phil had reassured him that he looked fine without.

Phil was Dan’s biggest supporter at that point. Besides his parents, Phil was always there for each small milestone that Dan went through. Everything that Dan did, they did together. Even though Phil was Dan’s doctor, Dan felt like he had a friendship with Phil that was building quite fast.

It was the beginning of Dan’s recovery process. Phil wanted to start him fast so he would learn his skills and memory back fast. Phil talked about sending Dan to a specialist to help but Dan insisted that Phil was fine to help him. So Phil helped him slowly, but he was grateful for every little bit.

They began with basic information., like Dan’s family. So Phil asked Dan questions about his family, like what his mother's name was and his father’s name and if he had any brothers or sisters. The entire time, Dan felt humiliated, because he knew his family. He didn’t see how this was helping him if he already remembered all of this. Dan felt like laughing at Phil, because that for this was a joke for Phil to get his humor up. It turned out not be.

The second test Phil conducted involved an advised trip to the centre of London, where Dan was told to recite the directions to a store. Dan did so easily, even showing Phil little quirks on the streets to prove that he did remember. Pleasantly surprised, Phil decided to test three other locations, and Dan remembered these just as easy. Phil was rather proud. In fact, he was almost sure that they wouldn’t need any more tests. To be sure, he did another one just in case.

The third and final test came in the form of puzzles. Phil hid a single cheerio underneath a cup, and then told Dan to point out which cup the cheerio was under, and Dan failed every time. Phil was dumbfounded as to why Dan wasn’t getting this riddle. So he tried it again. This time, he made Dan follow his line of vision so he could see where the cheerio was going, and that helped Dan a lot. But that still didn’t make Phil happy with the results. He pushed Dan for the rest of the day, trying to get him to help and to learn.

That night, Dan felt something inside of his head. Something that signalled something was wrong. He was already stressed from not doing good on the test earlier that day, so maybe that had something to do with it? Phil was writing something else down in his notes, ready to leave when Dan stopped him. “Don’t leave!” Dan pleaded, “My head doesn’t feel good.”

“What’s going on?” Phil asked, extremely concerned.

“I...I feel like I could have another seizure and I’m scared.”

Phil stood up from where he was sat and walked over to Dan’s bed, sitting down next to him, “You need to relax for one.”

“I can’t,” Dan cried, “I’m stressed!”

“Can I?” Phil asked, and Dan was confused until Phil lifted the blankets off from Dan’s legs and slid underneath, getting close to him, “Scoot into me and just relax.”

Hesitant, but eager to stop the bad feeling, Dan did so. He moved closer and cuddled into him, letting Phil massage his back to soothe him. Soon, Dan had fallen asleep; the bad feeling gone.

In the morning, before Dan was awake, Phil checked him over, running a quick check up on his brain, noticing the activity was normal. He smiled in content, before leaving for his other plan for the morning. He went to the hospital store and picked up a box of chocolate and a bouquet of flowers. When he got back up to the room, Dan was just waking, and surprised to see Phil standing there with his gifts.

“Why did you get me these?” Dan asked.

“Because you had a rough night last night and I want you to feel better.”

And Dan knew in that moment that something new and exciting was brewing between him and Phil.

Dan was filled with nervous energy the day he was released from the hospital. His stitches were nearly healed and dissolved and his hair was growing back the way it should be. He still wore a cap over his head though to cover the lack of hair.

Phil had left with him. Dan was shocked at the fact Phil had cancelled his flight again to stay with Dan for a few more weeks. Dan was ever so grateful for the friendship that Phil has given him: all of the nights Phil had stayed in the hospital beside him, the days Phil had got him food because the hospital food was terrible, and the one special night where Dan felt like he was going into a seizure but Phil held him in his bed to calm him down. All of these led up to the present where Phil was now holding his hand as Dan shakily climbed out of the taxi at his apartment.

Dan couldn’t remember anything about his apartment. If he thought hard enough, which he tried not to do because he was scared of something happening, he could remember little details: like how his bed was against a white wall and how he had a white piano in the corner. All of that was merely just an image to Dan and he didn’t even know if it was something his brain was making up.

“You okay?” Phil asked in a soft voice as Dan stood on both feet, his knees shaking slightly.

“Just a little nervous is’all,” Dan replied making a few steps on the uneven pavement underneath.

The truth was that Dan wasn’t scared of walking or moving, he was just scared of falling. He was terrified of hitting his head on anything and even though Phil has sworn up and down that he’ll be okay, Dan was still nervous.

Phil took a hold of his hand and led him to the stairs of his apartment building. Dan slowly and carefully took the steps one step at a time as he held onto the railing with white knuckles. Looking up in front of him, Dan didn’t recognize the door, but yet he had this familiar feeling in the core of his stomach that told him this was his apartment.

Phil handed Dan the keys that Dan had given him, too scared that he would lose them if he held them himself. With shaking hands, he pressed the key into the doorknob, and twisted, allowing the door to spring open. Immediately, the scent of home flooded his sense and Dan smiled, feeling grateful to not smell disinfectant anymore. Walking through the doorway, the first thing he notices is that there is a TV on in the distance. The slightly static and grainy sound made its way to his ear.

He suddenly tenses.

Who was in his apartment?

He reached behind him and gripped Phil’s hand, walking slowly, “Someone's in here,” Dan mumbled.

Phil looked at him, “Are you sure?”

Dan nodded, “The TV is on. I can hear it.”

Phil took the lead, walking towards the now loud sound that was resonating through the tiny apartment. As they near closer, a pair of legs come into view and Dan’s heart kick starts. He leans closer to Phil, confused and upset about who could have broken into his apartment, especially when he’s been in the hospital?

“Who...who are you?” Dan asked, his voice shaky and unsure, lacking confidence.

The figure suddenly stood up and rushed over to him. Dan cowered, turning into Phil and hiding. The man was large, with broad shoulders and blonde hair. He scared Dan…Dan didn’t even know who he was or why he was here.

“Dan?” The voice boomed, deep and emotion filled, “Baby, is that really you?”

Dan turned his head, feeling his bandages catch a little on Phil’s shirt, but he ignored it and stared at the man, getting a good look at him, “Who are you and why are you calling me baby?”

The man’s eyes widened, a now deep brown that was sucking Dan in, “Dan? Do you not remember me?”

Dan was confused, horribly and terribly confused. He shook his head.

“Dan, I’m Damien...your boyfriend,” Dan felt his heart drop into his stomach, “We had a fight one night and...and you left and then I never heard anything from you. I...I called everyone and everywhere for you and no one knew! I was so scared, baby!”

Something about the man, Damien’s, words bit at Dan in an uncomfortable way. He didn’t like his tone, and he didn’t like what he was saying. Something was resonating deep inside of him, telling him something was terribly wrong.

“From what I know,” Phil suddenly chipped in, long forgotten in the reunion of Damien and Dan, “You broke up with Dan that night.”

That thought clicked in Dan’s head. That sounded about right.

“So why are you still in his apartment?” Phil asked, “And further, why didn’t you try harder to locate your so-called boyfriend as he was lying dying in the hospital?”

Dan swallowed hard, a sudden headache beginning in the back of his head near his neck. He said a silent ‘ow’ and moved his hand to touch the sore spot.

“Dan...come on now, you remember me?” Damien spewed out, “We loved each other. We...we had everything and we…”

“Damien,” Dan finally got out. “I don’t remember you,” he stressed, “And I don’t remember anything that you are saying. But the part that is striking inside of my head is that everything you are saying is a lie. I would really like you gone, now, okay?”

“You can’t kick me out of our apartment, Dan!” Damien cried, “I help pay for this!”

Dan shook his head, “You don’t anymore and I want you go. If you’re not gone, I’m going to call the police.”

Damien’s body tensed, and he backed up away from Dan was shaking and holding tightly onto Phil’s arm for leverage. He didn’t understand where the sudden confidence boost came from but he was glad it was there. He felt a sort of relief over the fact that he stood up to Damien. Maybe that’s what his old self wanted to do all along too.

Damien walked away, stomping over to the living room where he looked reluctant to do anything. But then he was gone, and the sound of various thrown items hitting the floor was heard throughout the apartment.

And Dan felt incredibly okay with this...it was exactly what he needed.

“You’ve had a rough day so what about watching a movie?”

Dan looked up from their dinner that Phil had ordered from a local restaurant just down the road. He was happy to eat something else besides mediocre hospital food. This Pad Thai was much more exciting to eat than grilled chicken that was way overcooked and hard.

“Yeah, that sounds okay with me,” Dan said with a smirk.

Phil was already done eating, and although Dan had a long ways to go, Phil stood up and headed into Dan’s living room and turned on the TV. Dan watched from the corner of his eye to see Phil open Netflix and surf through the movies until he finally found a new TV that Netflix just released, “I know you said that you wanted to watch a movie but what about this show? It’s called Stranger Things and it seems really interesting!”

Dan smiled wider, an unspoken agreement that he was okay to watch the show instead. He finished his food in slow bites before moving into the living room.

Sitting on the couch, there was evident space between him and Phil. He knew that he and Phil had gotten a lot closer than they intended to. For one, it wasn’t a normal occurrence for a doctor to go home with a patient. But Phil had insisted.

He suddenly felt brave. Moving closer to Phil, he scooted until their thighs touched and Dan leaned into him. He carefully rested his head on Phil’s chest, letting himself relax. It was such a small intimate gesture, but one that meant so much to them both at the same time.

They show became forgotten as Dan sat back up, staring Phil in the eyes before leaning in. He didn’t mean to, but he was. And now Phil was leaning in as well. And then their lips were touching, so soft and feather-like against each other.

And then it was all over. The kiss just remained that soft gentle kiss. And Dan smiled. He smiled brightly and Phil smiled back, reaching up and smoothing his thumb over Dan’s cheek, “Spend the night?” Dan asked.

“Okay.”

The day came way before either one wanted it to come. The day of Phil’s flight back to America where he would need to go back to work and see his patients that have been waiting for him for these long months.

But Dan didn’t want him to go. He never wanted him to leave.

They were stood in Dan’s door way, Phil’s hand intertwined in his as they faced each other, “Let’s go get coffee,” Phil said, “Spend one last good time together before I leave.”

The words were bitter and they hurt Dan as he listened. His bandages were gone and his incision on his head was just a scar now, his hair was growing around it and looking nice. But he was scared of never looking the same as he once was.

“I...don’t want you to leave.” Dan said, the words catching in his throat.

“I know,” Phil said sadly, “I don’t want to either. So that’s why we should make the most of our last day together.”

Dan joined him, and they headed to the coffee shop, both of them ignoring the somber feeling in the air around them.

Over the course of the past few weeks, they had developed something. Little kisses here and there and cuddling was in their everyday routine. Phil even stayed majority of his time with Dan in his apartment. But they never said to each other what they were. But it was evident both wanted more.

They sat in silence for a while at the coffee shop before Dan finally spoke, “At least this will give me an excuse to finally visit America.”

A sad look washed over Phil’s face, “Dan…”

“And you can show me around!” Dan spoke up, his voice wavering as he held back tears, “I’ve always wanted to see New York City and you can show me, right?”

Dan broke and began to cry, silent tears ran down his cheeks as he picked up a napkin and furiously wiped them away. Phil began to speak to him, but he didn’t listen as he looked around at the paintings on the walls. He focused on everything but Phil in front of him. He just wanted the memory of Phil and him being happy to replace the one of Phil leaving.

Phil reached across the table and took Dan’s hands in his, pulling him away from his face, the napkin falling on the table, “Dan, look at me.”

Dan refused to look so Phil repeated his words.

Then Dan finally looked.

“I know you’re having a tough time with this and I am too, but just know that everything is gonna be okay,” Phil said softly, “And you’re right, you can come and visit me and we can go visit all of these wonderful places.”

Dan nodded and smiled, tears still softly rolling down his skin, “If you promise?”

“If you don’t forget,” Phil said with a smile. Dan chuckled, they joked occasionally about Dan’s condition, but it was always in good taste and spirits.

The rest of the coffee date went by faster than they would have liked. But it soon came time for Phil to get his things from his hotel room and make sure he had everything packed. Dan offered to come with him but Phil told him to rest.

So Dan reluctantly went back to his apartment, but not without kissing Phil one last time before departing.

Dan was still laying on his bed when his phone chimed. Picking up, he noticed he had a text message from Phil, letting him know he made it to the airport okay. Dan let a few tears fall down his cheeks because deep in his heart, he hoped Phil would knock on his apartment door and tell him he changed his mind, and that he was going to stay with him.

But that knock never came.

He remained in his bed, depression setting in because he wanted so dearly to be with Phil in his apartment. He was nearly ready to fall asleep when a thought rang in his head…he could get to the airport and see Phil one more time before he left!

Jumping up, but not too quickly, he rushed around his room and gathered his belongings, picking his phone back up, he scrolled through his numbers, hoping his old self had a Taxi company in his contacts. He found the contact and called them, telling them he needed an urgent Taxi to the airport. The company told him all the Taxi’s were out already on calls.

Defeated, his next resort was checking out the hours of the tube station nearest to him and what trains were still running to the airport. But he was unpleasantly surprised to see none of them were running right now. He didn’t know what to do. There was nothing he could do. His options were pretty limited here.

He Googled taxi places around him to try and call but nothing came up besides a rental car company down the street. But he wasn’t going to rent a car. He didn’t want to ever drive again! Maybe he wouldn’t have a choice. Driving the car would be his only option.

Closing his eyes, he hit the number on the screen and let it ring. Quickly, someone answered and he told them his situation. They gave him the location of their office and told him they would let him rent a car for 35 pounds for the night. So he left his apartment shaking on wobbly legs as he walked down the street, and took a right, seeing the place just down from him.

He was given a small four-door car to drive, the keys in his hand. He was scared beyond belief but he needed to get to the airport. As it stood right now, he probably wouldn’t even make it before Phil was through security and then he wouldn’t see him.

Dan started the car, his breathing quickening as he struggled to grasp the wheel without feeling like his entire control was slipping like that night in the rain. He slowly pushed his foot on the brake and let out a long breath as he shifted the car into drive, and then he drove.

He actually drove…

His eyes followed the roads, this time they weren’t wet. They were just normal roads. They weren’t standing in his way. They were a gateway between him and the love of his life. And soon, the signs for the airport came into view and he couldn’t believe. He couldn’t believe that he was actually here. He had drove successfully.

The airport was busy tonight, like always. But Dan was glad that he got there when he did, quickly parking before running inside. He didn’t even take note of where he was. He just ran. He ran, not even worried about the jarring of his head as he did so. He had no idea where he was going. He didn’t know what airline Phil was even flying. But his instinct told him where to go. So he followed them, dodging people in the process.

And he soon ended up near the the American Airlines gate. Looking around, he tried his best to see if he could spot Phil, but he knew in his heart it was going to be too late. But much to his surprise…he saw a tall dark haired man, walking in the queue as he neared security, already striping off a black peacoat.

Dan ran over to the line, outside of the velvet rope, “Phil!” He exclaimed.

The man turned and he saw for sure that it was Phil, and his blue eyes bore into his soul. Phil jumped out of the line, hoping over the rope before he swung his arms around Dan and holding him close, “Don’t leave me,” Dan cried, “I can’t be without you, Phil. You need to stay in England with me.”

Phil kissed the side of his head, “Dan, I need to go back, I have patients waiting for me.”

“Then take me with you,” Dan cried, pulling back and looking at Phil, “Let me go back to America with you! We’ll go together!”

“That’s crazy,” Phil said, leaning in a kissing Dan’s forehead delicately, “Your family is here. You deserve to be here.”

“But I want to be with you,” Dan pleaded, “You saved my life. You gave me this new outlook on my life that I almost never had. I owe you my life, Phil.”

“That’s not a reason to pick up everything and leave,” Phil said, reaching up and rubbing Dan’s tear stained cheeks.

“Phil,” Dan paused and hesitated, “I love you. I love you a lot and I don’t want to live knowing you’re not here. Please, let me go with you or stay with me.”

Phil looked at Dan with so much love and admiration that Dan melted, “I love you too Dan, I figured it out the first day I saw you that you were special.”

“Then stay,” Dan whispered, “Or let me go with you.”

Phil nodded and leaned in, kissing Dan soundly in a breathless kiss before pulling back and looking at him, “I’ll stay, Dan, I’ll stay with you.” Phil was crying now. “God, I’m so stupid. We’re so stupid.”

Dan smirked at him, “Then let’s be stupid together.”

Dan wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck and yanked him close, crying tears of joy. He was so happy to hear Phil was going to stay with him. It’s all he ever wanted and now it’s happened.

They shared that special moment in the airport, a crowd gathered around them before they parted and left, in the car that Dan rented.

And Phil could never be more proud of him in that moment.

The clapping was loud, deafening almost. He saw the cameras around him, filming the scene in front of him as his name was announced and he walked out, looking into the studio audience and waving as he sat down on the white couch across from the host of Britain’s new top talk show host.

After that night at the airport, he and Phil sealed their relationship in breathless kisses and whispers. Phil moved his practice to England where he got his new license to practice while Dan worked on his recovery more and more everyday.

Eventually, Dan did exactly what he told himself he would do…and he wrote a book. He wrote a book that became the best selling work of fiction in the US and the UK and Dan was so astonished. His life was turned into such an anomaly that he had producers begging him for the rights to turn his book into a movie. And now he was on a talk show, sharing his life. In this time, he also had created a blog in which he has gained another massive following, but mostly from those who are looking at him as an inspiration to their own brain injuries and ways to get over it.

They called out Phil next, or Dr. Lester, and Phil walked out, waving at the cheering crowd around them. Dan smiled brightly at him, loving the look of his new husband as his ring glittered in the light. They married about six months prior, in a small intimate ceremony with both of their families. But it was perfect, and Dan wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

The entire time at the talk show, Dan laughed and cried slightly along with everyone else as he talked briefly of his experiences. Phil went into some medical talk about the procedure he used to help Dan. And then they even showed some photos of Dan while he was still in the hospital.

By the end of the show, they asked Dan who he wanted to play him in the movie adaption, and Dan jokingly said “Evan Peters”, even though they looked nothing alike. He just loved him as an actor.

The show ended and he and Phil walked off from the stage and back into their room. They grabbed their bags and belongings before leaving and exiting the giant building. Instantly, Dan was bombarded by fans who had copies of his book and were asking for autographs.

Taking it one person in a time, Dan signed as many books as he could before he felt Phil’s hand on his back, telling him they needed to move on. But before they could, Dan spotted a young boy, about the age of six, looking up at him with giant eyes, his head wrapped in a bandage. He looked up at Dan and handed him his book, and Dan bent down, signed the book and asking for his name. The boy didn’t answer but the mom chimed in, “He’s mute. He has a tumor that is affecting his motor skills and he doesn’t speak. But I read to him your story and it’s given him such a positive look on life, even so young. You’re truly an inspiration.”

Dan felt tears brim his eyes as he reached forward and hugged the trembling boy. This was the reason why Dan did what he did. He now had a purpose for his life, one that he couldn’t see prior to the accident. His life was full of meaning that he couldn’t even comprehend.

And that’s all because of one doctor who decided he wanted to take a chance.

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