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nerdythebard · 2 years ago

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#53: Kratos [God of War]

(Art Credit: Raf Grassetti) ---

My friends, it's time for the man! The myth! The legend!

Thanks to an anonymous reader, we're gonna traverse the worlds of D&D as Kratos. The Ghost of Sparta. Godslayer. The God of War. Farbauti. We'll do the 2018 version, as God of War: Ragnarök approaches. Also, heads up, this will be just Kratos and, sorry to disappoint you, only wielding the Leviathan Axe. We have to restrain him somehow ;) Enjoy!

Next Time: Have you ever used the yellow pages to hire a wizard from Chicago?

...Read it, boy.

I... Would Like... To... RAGE: There's no denying it, Kratos might just be the strongest character in video games. His ability to channel his rage into pure power is legendary, especially when he manages to control it in the 2018 game.

Let Me Axe You a Question: Kratos's new toy, the Leviathan Axe, is a magical weapon capable of channeling ice magic. It always return to him when called.

I AM MY SCARS: There's no running away from one's past and Kratos really owns up to his. The time spent in Midgard really made him wiser and, although not purely altrustic, he's gained some degree of empathy.

---

Kratos is a son of Zeus, and a god of his own, but we're going to focus on his power and might rather than his birth heritage. We're going with a Goliath from the Mordenkainen's Monsters of the Multiverse version. We get a +2 and a +1 to two abilities of our choice (Strength and Constitution respectively), and thanks to the Little Giant feat we gain proficiency in Athletics and count as one size larger when determining carrying and lifting capacity. As Mountain Born, we have resistance to cold damage and can survive high altitudes with no negative consequences. Stone's Endurance allows us to use our reaction to shrug off damage (1d12 + our Constitution modifier) a number of times equal to our proficiency bonus per long rest.

Kratos's past haunts him to this very day, so making him a Haunted One seems to fit the most. We gain proficiencies in two skills from the list (Investigation and Survival), learn two languages (although we should leave it to the Boy), and get the Heart of Darkness feature. Although others might be intimidated of us (and let's be honest, who wouldn't be?), they may extend courtesy and attempt to aid us to the best of their ability. It doesn't mean they would fight or die for us, but a shelter or a meal (or upgrading our axe) is definitely on the table.

ABILITY SCORES

We'll start with the obvious ones: Constitution will be first (if using Standard Point Array) and Strength will be second; that way, we'll put it both at 16 from the start. Dexterity will be next, Kratos can roll around and dodge quite well.

We'll follow that up with Charisma, as Kratos's intimidation can also act as very effective persuasion. Wisdom will be a little low, especially since Kratos became a rather skilled survivalist, and we're dumping Intelligence; Kratos is from Sparta, not Athens.

CLASS

Level 1 - Barbarian: I mean... was there ever any doubt? Barbarians get d12 as their Hit Dice, [12 + our Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, proficiencies with light armour, medium armour, shields, simple weapons, and martial weapons. Kratos wears a variety of armours or none at all, so what you choose it doesn't matter here. We are going to grab a shield and a battleaxe (because it can be used in one or both hands, as opposed to a greataxe). Our saving throws are Strength and Constitution, and we get to pick two class skills from the list (Intimidation and Perception).

Barbarians begin their journey by tapping into the vast ocean of Rage. As a bonus action, twice per long rest, we can Rage for up to 1 minute (or until we end it/are knocked unconscious/hadn't attacked a creature or received damage during our last turn) as long as we're not wearing heavy armour. While Raging, we gain the following benefits:

We have an advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws.

When we make a melee weapon attack that uses Strength, we get a +2 bonus damage (increases as we level up).

We have resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage.

With Unarmoured Defense, our AC is [10 + our Dexterity modifier + our Constitution modifier] as long as we're not wearing any armour. We can still use shields.

Level 2 - Barbarian: Thanks to our divine Danger Sense, we have an advantage on Dexterity saving throws against dangers that we can see, such as traps and spells, as long as we're not blinded, deafened, or incapacitated. We have Head and Boy to warn us against attacks.

We also have an option to make Reckless Attacks. When making the first attack on our turn, we can choose to make it Reckless. Doing so, gives us advantage on Strength-based attack for the entire turn, but all attack made against us until our next turn also have advantage.

Level 3 - Barbarian: Starting now, we can Rage three times per long rest.

Time to pick our first subclass, to walk our Primal Path. Since Kratos gained divine power and was a servant of Ares, we will make his Rage truly godly and choose the Path of the Zealot. Thanks to Divine Fury, the first creature we hit with a weapon attack takes extra [1d6 + half of our Barbarian level] radiant or necrotic damage (our choice, but we cannot change it).

As a former Warrior of the Gods, we are brought back to life more easily. Spells such as Raise Dead or Revivify, or any other that would bring us back from death, require no material components when used to us. Death can have us when it earns us.

Level 4 - Barbarian: Time for our first Ability Score Improvement. Let's make our punches and attacks deal more damage, and put two points into Strength.

Level 5 - Fighter: Time to get more technical and get into contact with two grumpy dwarfs. Multiclassing into Fighter doesn't give us any new things, but we can adopt a Fighting Style. We have a weapon, but our unarmed attacks need power, too, so we're gonna pick Unarmed Fighting. Our fists now deal [1d6 + our Strength modifier] bludgeoning damage. If we're not holding a weapon or a shield, that d6 can become d8. In combat, at the beginning of our turn, we can also deal 1d4 damage to any creature grappled by us.

With Second Wind we can use our bonus action to heal [1d10 + our Fighter level] Hit Points once per a short or long rest.

Level 6 - Fighter: Thanks to Action Surge, once per a short or long rest we can take one additional Action in combat during our turn.

Level 7 - Fighter: We pick our second subclass here, our Martial Archetype. We can now breathe some magic into that axe of ours by becoming the Eldritch Knight. First and foremost, we unlock Spellcasting with Intelligence as our casting ability. We know two cantrips (Ray of Frost and Thunderclap) and three 1st-level spells (Absorb Elements, Earth Tremor, and Frost Fingers).

Finally, we gain Weapon Bond. By bonding our axe to ourselves, we can never be disarmed (as long as we're not incapacitated) and summon the weapon back to us wherever it is (as long as we're on the same plane of existence) as a bonus action.

Level 8 - Fighter: Another ASI. The only reason, we didn't switch back to the Barbarian here is so we can grab the Strike of the Giants feat from the 2022 Wonders of the Multiverse Unearthed Arcana. As a bonus action, we can imbue our weapon with magic of the giants. For the next minute, the first strike we make with that weapon causes additional effect depending on the magic chosen. We're picking magic of the Frost Giants, which deals extra 1d6 cold damage. If the target is a creature, it has to make a Constitution saving throw or have its speed reduced to 0 until the start of our next turn.

For our final spell, we're gonna get a few more Hit Points with False Life.

Level 9 - Barbarian: Going back to improve the quantity instead of quality of our attacks, we get Extra Attack. We can now attack twice instead of once during a single Attack action. Our ground speed also increases by 10 feet (if we're not wearing heavy armour) thanks to Fast Movement.

Level 10 - Barbarian: Halfway through the build, we can now Rage four times per long rest. We also get a new subclass feature: Fanatical Focus. If while Raging we're fail a saving throw, we can re-roll once per Rage. However, we have to use a new result even if it's worse than the original.

Level 11 - Barbarian: With our Feral Instincts, we now have an advantage on Initiative rolls. Additionally, any ambush or surprise that would happen during combat do not work on us.

Level 12 - Barbarian: Another ASI! This time, we're gonna bump our Constitution by two points.

Level 13 - Barbarian: Whenever we get luck, enemies die! With Brutal Critical, whenever we score a melee attack Critical Hit, we can roll additional damage die (e.g. a battleaxe's damage die is 1d8 [or d10 if used two-handed], so on a Natural 20 we roll 2d8 [or 2d10]). It is also here that bonus damage from our Rage becomes a +3.

Level 14 - Barbarian: Time for another subclass feature: Zealous Presence. As a bonus action, we unleash a rage-filled roar that encourages up to ten creatures within 60 feet of us, giving them advantage on attack rolls and saving throws until the start of our next turn. We can do so once per long rest.

Level 15 - Barbarian: We can now tap into Relentless Rage. Now, we can keep fighting even if we're dead... kinda. If we drop to 0 Hit Points while Raging (and not be insta-killed), we can make a DC 10 Constitution saving throw. On a success, we recover 1 Hit Point. The DC increases by 5 each time we use this feature after the first. After we finish a long rest, the DC resets back to 10.

Level 16 - Barbarian: One more ASI for the road, and we're gonna grab every tank's friend – the Tough feat. Our Hit Points Maximum increase by [our level x2] and every level-up henceforth gives us +2 Hit Points. Additionally, we can also Rage 5 times per long rest now.

Level 17 - Barbarian: We improve our Brutal Critical. On a Critical Hit, we now roll two extra damage dice.

Level 18 - Barbarian: For the final subclass feature, we'll be able to Rage Beyond Death. When we drop to 0 Hit Points, we don't go unconscious. We still have to make Death Saving Throws, and suffer the normal consequences, but we only drop unconscious when our Rage ends and we're at 0 Hit Points then.

Level 19 - Barbarian: We can stay angry for an unlimited amount of time with Persistent Rage. Our Rage can only end if we choose to do it or if we drop unconscious. With the previous level's feature in mind, in theory we now can never be unconscious.

Level 20 - Barbarian: Our capstone is Barbarian 16, which gives us... an ASI. Yeah, ending it on a low note, unfortunately, but at least we can capstone our Strength with a 20.

---

And that is our boy... err... Kratos. Ekhm, let's see what we got:

First of all, we've made the most durable build. Kratos is a frontline powerhouse whether he wields a weapon or not. We can soak damage and deal damage, and our Rage lets us turn the battle to our favour. Kratos has the largest Hit Points pool of all the builds we've done so far: beating both Songbird and Edelgard. With several ice-themed attacks, we can also keep enemies stationary for us or our party members.

Our AC is 17 (with a shield), we have a +1 to our Initiative, and a whoppin' 250 Hit Points on average.

Unfortunately, by focusing on Kratos's physical might, we've sacrificed pretty much all remaining abilities. With a negative Intelligence modifier and a low Wisdom and Charisma score, we also might be vulnerable to Charmed and Frightened effects. It's a shame we couldn't grab the next two Barbarian features (Indomitable Might and Primal Champion), as they would make us even better. What I would suggest is hunt in your game for Belt of Dwarvenkind, which would increase your Constitution by 2 (and give you a swanky dad-beard).

---

Another one off the list! This was pretty straightforward and seems situational, but this is the best I could think of. I hope the requestor is satisfied, and I'll see you in the next one, my loves!

-Nerdy out!

#dnd 5e #dungeons and dragons #dnd #d&d 5e #character building #d&d #fighter #d&d build #barbarian #path of the zealot #eldritch knight #goliath #kratos #god of war ragnarok #gow ragnarok #gow #god of war #ghost of sparta

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

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hey love! hope you’re having a good day so far 💕 for the hc requests, what about javi with pets? dog, cat, whatever you wanna do ✨

Thank you so much for this ask! This turned into a more of a mini fic rather than hcs, so I hope it’s okay for you! 😁 I had so much fun imagining Javi with a cat! Hope you’re having a great day too! 🧡😊

Warnings: It’s mainly fluff / light angst. GN “reader” is mentioned, but their relationship with Javi is left undefined (i.e. written so that it could be interpreted as platonic as this wasn’t a x reader request, but could alternatively be read as romantic / sexual relationship); language; smoking; one crude “pussy” joke; non-explicit canon-typical references to sex work. GIF by @muvana and @zeldasayer

This cat is DEA (mini fic: Javier Peña)

Javi is alone in his apartment the first time he hears it. The cotton soft paw tapping at his window, just audible over the drum of the rain. He’s not sure why he draws his pistol as he tracks from his couch towards the sound - he’s confident Escobar’s men wouldn’t be quite so subtle.

That’s when he first sees it, after a moment of searching. A cat as elusive and grey as a shadow - aside from a pink little nose, and eyes as round and bright as flaming yellow suns.

Javi still can’t help but regard the animal with suspicion - as if they may be a narco or a communist, somehow. In fact, Javi is moments away from shooing the creature when he notes her rain-bedraggled fur. So, he pauses by the crack in the propped open window, the cat nuzzling her head against the frame, the gap slightly too tight to squeeze through.

“This is no place for a street cat,” Javi warns, in his deep, oaky timbre, and yet when he hears her pathetic little mew in response to the promise of his warmth, his heart melts. He unconsciously reaches out with his forefinger, and when she rubs her wet little nose against him through the crack, he already knows he’s going to cave.

“Alright then, little thing,” he purrs, before chuckling to himself in response to the crude joke forming in his head as he reaches for the latch. “Where’d you hear this is the place to be for the finest pussy in Medellin, huh? Have you been talking to Vanessa?”

As soon as there is space to squeeze through, the cat is inside, hopping elegantly down onto Javi’s hardwood floor with a thud of her paws, instantly beginning to preen and groom herself, purring like a motor.

Javi simply looks down at the cat for a moment, raising his arm to scratch his head and emitting a gentle grunt. Okay. What now?

Succumbing to those big round eyes, he crouches down and extends his hand towards the animal. Yet, for all the cat’s eagerness to be admitted, she initially pushes her ears back and recoils away with a half-hearted hiss.

“Easy girl,” he soothes, coaxing her to him, and as soon as his warm, firm hand makes contact the cat collapses onto her back, purring heavily and showing her belly. Another chuckle. “You just rolled on Escobar too easy, narco. He’s gonna be pissed.”

His eyes crease at the cat’s display, all too eager for affection, and the cat earns Javier’s only smile of the day. Without him noticing, he forgets for a moment. Forgets it all. All of the shit.

Perhaps it’s the unfamiliar peace in his heart, therefore, which compels him to say: “Okay. Well, if you’re going to stay the night, we’ve got to set some ground rules, alright?” The cat purrs more deeply as he lifts her and bundles her into his chest. Then, he carries her to the kitchen to seek out some suitable food. “Number one. No drugs in the house.”

***

Javi was so hospitable that the cat keeps coming. It isn’t every night, of course. Javi isn’t always home, or- quite often when he is, he isn’t home alone, and is therefore far too preoccupied to hear the signal- that cotton-soft paw tippy tapping at his window. But, when he is in a position to hear it - home and alone - that is precisely when he needs to see that little face most.

It is a comfort, that a being might choose to return to him when he’s usually the one leaving. Or the one paying for the company. And, even if he doesn’t realise it, Javi does what he does best. He gets attached.

More than that, Javi feels a muted pang of joy whenever the ball of fluff curls up on his lap, or whenever she follows him around his apartment inquisitively to see what he’s up to (or as he refers to it, acting as “back-up”). The first time he gets those little wet kitty kisses on his hawkish nose, he lets out a surprised laugh - one almost strangled with joy.

It isn’t long then, before he is taking her to get her jabs. Before he is buying her a collar - as if Javi could really have a being that belongs with him after all.

“What’s her name?” the vet asks, and Javi looks down, a resounding nothing on the tip of his tongue. He sees her fur, grey as a shadow. Her eyes as fierce and yellow as the lit end of a cigarette. The answer seems obvious, and he replies with a soft smile. “Smokes. Her name is Smokes.”

That day, Javi brings her home and pops Smokes softly on the couch. Then, he brings a cigarette to his lips, lighting it up as she waves a paw towards him. “You’re DEA now, kid.” he says with certainty. So. That’s it then. If anything ever happens to this cat -Javi’s cat- there will be hell to pay.

Soon after, in the days that follow, Smokes comes and goes as she pleases, and the arrangement suits both Javi and the feline just fine.

One evening, though, Javi is tetchy, even pacing the floor, and polishing off a whole packet of cigarettes. He could do with a little company after a tough day, but his little friend is nowhere to be seen. Smokes hasn’t returned to him in a while -a few days- and he won’t admit he is more than a little worried. So, he opts, against his better judgement, to knock on your door - the apartment opposite him. It’s not unusual for him to turn up at your door looking for smokes of one variety or another, he supposes, even if he does try to avoid it. Tries to avoid getting attached.

Javi’s mouth falls open in silent surprise as you open the door with a perturbed expression, and a bundle of grey fur in your arms. Well, well, well. Smokes has been found out a traitor after all.

“What’s up, Javi?” you ask impatiently.

“Is this a bad time?”

You stomp your foot and smile knowingly. “Some asshole put a collar on my cat.”

He reads your expression, and knows you’ve already figured out the shared predicament. “Your cat?”

“Well, she came to my window.”

Javi scratches his head. “Mine too.”

You tut at the fickle little cat in mock annoyance. It seems this is one promiscuous street cat.

There is a beat as you and Javi exchange lopsided smiles, and the furball in your arms throws herself towards Javi. She is as tricky to hold on to as an undulating wave and so, with a sigh, you transfer the cat from your hands to his - as if you had a choice.

“What did you call her?” Javi asks.

“Hm,” you chuckle through a knowing, closed-lipped smile. “I called her Javiera.”

Javi looks at you for a moment, his eyes narrowing, but all his sharp angles gone as he cradles the floofy smol bean in his arms. Even his voice comes out soft. “Why?”

You exhale a small breath, before cocking your head at him, evidently mulling over your words before you speak. Buying yourself some time, you step forward to give the cat a rub behind her ears. “Well. All that coming and going?” You look down at the sweet animal, your eyes glistening with thinly veiled sadness, your voice raw as it echoes into the bare hallway, even as you sport a determined smile. Then, you look up at him, a wistful expression there. “Reminded me of someone.”

A swallow dips down his long, corded neck, and something vaguely resembling guilt glints in his deep dark eyes. There is more beneath your words, he realises; unspoken but ever so thinly veiled. A commentary on the fact you could never get him to stay, perhaps, even if you did offer him warmth and contentment and everything worth staying for.

Javi feels like a stray cat sometimes. Like he may never find a home. Not really. And so, at the implication of your words, his eyes glisten with a subtle, thickly-veiled sadness now too. As though, if you believe that too - that he can never settle- it must be true.

However, his fears are assuaged when you reach up, and bravely cup his face in your palm. It is a gesture which feels at once familiar and alien to him. In fact, he almost recoils back as if afraid of the affection; that is, until your warm, firm hand settles at his cheek. After that, he wouldn’t dream of pulling away.

Your eyes tell him not to worry as your words tumble forth. Your fond tone reassures him it’s okay. “I just mean...” -you search for the right words- “...this agent has too much love to go around.”

A swallow trails down Javi’s long, corded neck as he labours to keep his expression neutral, and yet, the man appreciates your words more than you can know. Especially when your love is something he gravitates to and strays from in a near constant cycle. He’s happy to know that when he turns up at your door, you accept him for who he is. Someone who can’t settle.

Still, instead of processsing, or digging deeper into these revelations, Javi focusses on another detail. Deflecting. “You called her an agent?”

You smile, your expression imbued with mischief. “It says it plainly on her collar, Javi. This cat is DEA.”

Javi smiles at you in return, a free and throaty laugh as you lean up against the frame of your door. Then, you gesture towards the interior of your apartment, inviting him in. You’re already moving and he’s already following before you’re even through with your question, as if you’re a familiar habit: “Wanna come in for a smoke?”

Javi follows you. Sure, he knocked at your door, but he may as well be tapping at the walls of your heart and asking for admittance. And, even if he never stays for long, he knows you will always invite him in. You can’t help it. Your heart is as open to him as it is to this little grey cat. In return, he can’t promise to stay, but he can promise to keep coming back.

So, Javi follows, although he doesn’t realise you’ve both got it wrong. If he is to liken himself to animal, it should not be a stray cat, perhaps. It should be a dog. After all, Javi is tenacious, loyal, and he has so much love to go around. So, as he follows you into your apartment he does what he does best. He gets attached.

You curl up with Smokes together on the couch, watching TV, and he is grateful. In this simplicity he feels a rare kind of peace in his heart, amidst all the complexity of this war.

Smokes purrs.

#javier peña #javier Peña x reader #narcos #Pedro Pascal #Javier Peña headcanon #blurb request

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twelfth-harbinger · 4 years ago

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Hello, I hope you're doing great! ^^ Could I request a Kaeya x male Reader, where the reader is a thief and Kaeya cathes him and teaches him a lesson (nsfw)

A/n: I live for this shit. This is...kind of kinky so.. & I wrote this at 4am. Listening to: Throat babyyyyyy

Mentions: Blowjobs, Denial, Teasing... blowjobs.

Warnings: Nsfw Face fucking at its finest, A very dominant Kaeya.

The King of Thieves

Kaeya left Angel’s Share for the night. Dark cheeks tinted a dusty deep red from a night of indulgence. Diluc was there, tending the bar coincidentally.

“There have been a plethora of incidents revolving around thieves as of late. I suggest you be mindful when leaving for the night Kaeya.”

His younger brother’s light warning drifted back into the depths of his mind as he strolled the nearly vacant streets of Monstadt’s city. Of course, on his way back to headquarters; the Knight took the long way around. Cutting through a specific alleyway that lead to a patch of grassy plains above a stone stair case. Out the corner of his eye he saw a shadow zip by and over the short roof top of someone’s home. As he moved to take a precautionary step backwards the shadow figure landed behind him. Assuming Kaeya was drunk enough to one up, the figure moved in to grab Kaeya’s shoulder in efforts to flip him onto his back and steal his vision. Kaeya, in a rebuttal too quick for this thief’s skill set. Side stepped and ducked, only to elbow his assailant in the chest cavity and then reappear behind them with his sword drawn.

“Why is Diluc always right?” Kaeya sighed, a frown on his face as he stared at the person in front of him, whom he had knocked the wind right out of. He wasn’t sure who the person was, given they were covered from head fo toe in all black. When Kaeya saw that they were recovering he twirled his sword, knocking them unconscious with the hilt of his blade. When the thief dropped, Kaeya looked down at them. He moved to uncover their face and saw a young man. He saw, you? His eye went wide, you were not much older than Diluc. The young Knight couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see such wasted potential resort to something of a scoundrel at best. He threw your arm over his shoulder, picking you up with a deep exhale. Effortlessly carrying you off back to one of the empty confinement cells within the knights headquarters. The one he picked out had been out of use for quite some time, given Klee had blown it up rendering the cell unlivable (for her). — It was a perfect place for a thief, especially one that tried to steal his vision.

Kaeya sat on the edge of a small table in the corner of the room, arms crossed and a light frown on his face. He waited until you had come through and regained consciousness. In a panic, your dark eyes darted across the room. Something Kaeya found quite amusing.

“Where..am I?” You huffed out, there was a draft in the room and you visibly shivered. Kaeya stayed seated looking at you.

“In the Knights of Favonius’ HQ, a confinement cell to be more precise.” He replied nonchalantly and as you tried to move, chains rattled against your wrists and ankles.

“Let me out of here, else you’ll be sorry—“

You were cut off by Kaeya’s abrupt laugh, it made you frown and your brow crease. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?” Kaeya’s chuckle faded into a sigh, his finger tapping idly on the bicep of his crossed arms.

“Nothing, it’s just you are in no position to talk. In fact, I bet if I did away with you right here I could get away with it.” His smile may have been playful but his eye hinted at something much darker.

“You.. can’t do that, you’re an honor bound knight it would be a disgrace—“ Kaeya smiled, this time it wasn’t playful but it still held amusement.

“Relax I’m not a barbarian. Why don’t you tell me why you tried to rob me in the middle of an alleyway and most interestingly... try to take my vision.” After Kaeya stated his questions there was a stagnant silence that sat in the stale air of the confinement cell. Kaeya looked down at you, who shifted uncomfortably. “Oh? No answer? Are you sure that’s what you wish to do?” Your eyes drifted over to look up at Kaeya. Who moved from his spot on the table to walk towards you. In the dim light of the cell his features illuminated, it may have been the full moon that peeked through the barred window that made him look so appealing. The sound of his boots tapping down on the stone floors of the cell sent a slight chill down your spine. He towered over you as you sat on the floor. A light smirk threatened the corner of his lips, as he stared down at you with a quizzical eye. The air around him was cool and it seemed to get even colder as he knelt down to eye level. “I think I’ll give you until the count of say- three.” He held up three fingers before putting them down.

“What?”

“One.” He moved his hand behind your head almost as if he was cradling you. Unbeknownst to you his sword appeared in his palm. Your side profile reflected off the blade as it drew near your head. “Two.” His voice was deep and melodic and his tone evermore serious as he counted down. He wasn’t smiling anymore, seeing him this serious started giving you second thoughts about keeping your mouth shut. He was so close you could smell him, eye half lidded as he stared down at you and a crease in his brow. Against the back of your neck your hair brushed against the blade that dangerously kissed the skin of the nape of your neck. He leaned in and as he drew near, a light grin forming at his lips. Was he enjoying the reaction he was getting out of you? Or the interrogation process? Your hand pressed against his chest to try and move him back you couldn’t stand to have him that close. He paused for a split second, his eye dropping down to your hand, it was warm. “Thre-“

“Wait!” You say, your dark eyes shifting up to peer into his. Staring at him this closely, being able to smell him. It was hard not to think about the things you wanted him to do to you while sitting helpless on the cell floor. He was ridiculously attractive and equally as intimidating when he wished to be.

“Hm? Did you change your mind?” He asked, flashing a cold smile. Your cheeks flushed, he smelled like the first snow fall of winter, shamelessly it made blood rush to where you didn’t need it to. His eyes drifted down briefly before he looked at you more closely. “Or maybe you didn’t?” He purred lightly and a smile crossed his face again.

“I-I..I was just.. curious as to what it’s like to have a vision I don’t have one.” You spoke out, Kaeya didn’t sense a lie from you. Even as you continued to try and make him feel sorry for you. “I haven’t been blessed by the Archons. I’m poor and I...I can’t do much of anything let alone use a vision. Being a thief is all I’ve ever known. The only way I know to survive. I wasn’t going to hurt you.” His brow creased as you babbled that last part, you caught yourself and spoke sheepishly. “Not..that I could’ve anyway—“ Kaeya laughed again, he moved back but not very far. His sword disappeared in one swift movement and he took a minute to look at you. Your hands moved over to your lap, you didn’t think he noticed.

“What am I going to do with you hm?” He pondered aloud as he stood up, a hand resting on his hip. He stared down at you, “You assaulted me in an alleyway, tried to rob me and now..” You couldn’t help but think it wasn’t much of an assault, you were the one who got hit square in the chest and knocked unconscious after all.

“Kaeya-“

“And you know who I am? You’re quite the bold thief. Tell me if I let you go, how do I know you won’t do it again?” You shifted uncomfortably, nothing he was saying was arousing but, truthfully you fell victim to his charm the moment he began questioning you, not to mention the count down and intimidation attempt. Kaeya noticed, he was quite observant but he was doing his job- for the most part.

“I won’t.” You lied, he saw right through it. Kaeya crossed his arms again, if he felt any remorse for you before it was gone now. You avoided eye contact with him even as he stared down at you.

“Do you like being chained up in a cell, you’re excited.” He asked genuinely, his voice was soft and curious. It made you twitch uncomfortably. You shook your head and Kaeya tilted his. “Really? Your as hard as this stone floor, I wasn’t going to tease you about it but it only...fed into every words I’ve said to you thus far.” You could hear him smile, you made the mistake of looking up at him. He was gorgeous and the blush that crossed your face made his smile widen.

“I..can’t help how you’re making me feel. You’re just-“

“I’m just what?” He cut you off, moving his hand to rest on the top of your head. He gently ran his fingers through your hair with his gloved palm. Idly moving his hand down to the back of your head before gripping the ends of your hair between his fingers. “Were you going to say charming? Sexy, hot?” He asked, his grip on your hair wasn’t that tight or painful it aroused a light whimper to fall from your lips. Kaeya noticed your hand palming your growing erection — your pants were growing tighter you couldn’t help it. With his boot he kicked your hand away and stepped on the back of your hand, causing the restraints he had you in to rattle against the stone floor. “You did something bad why should you gain pleasure after committing a crime? As I see it I’m the victim here. You assaulted me in an alleyway.” His grin was wide and with his free hand he moved to unzip his pants. Immediately your mouth began to water as he slipped his hand inside to touch himself right before your very eyes.

“I-I won’t do it again..” You lied once again and he saw through it yet again. His grin only widened, he was going to enjoy this.

“I don’t believe you, therefore...” His grip tightened in your hair and he pulled your head back. “I think I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.” The weight he had on your hand increased when he saw you try to move your other hand to slip inside your own pants, it was a warning not to try and relieve yourself. You moved your hand away with a whine as Kaeya freed himself from the tight confines of his trousers. His thick member prodded against your cheek before he let it rest on your lips. He let out a light and playful hum as he stared down at you, almost as if he was beckoning you to open your mouth.

“Kaeya I-“ As soon as you opened your mouth he pushed himself inside, the taste of his pre made you shudder and your eyes flutter. He held your hair and head firmly in place as he thrusted deeper into your mouth. He was genuinely surprised that you were able to take him all the way to the back of your throat.

“It’s not polite to speak with your mouth full.” He teased. “Go on, keep stuffing your face thief.” As you struggled to swallow his cock, you couldn’t stop your hand from reaching down to palm the hard tent in your pants. Kaeya caught wind of your actions and knocked your forearm to the side with his other boot. The deep groan you let out reverberated against his shaft, Kaeya had to bite back his own moan as he pulled your hair again which inevitably moved your head back so your lips wrapped around his tip. “If you do it again you’ll regret it.” He wasn’t smiling when he spoke, it was a threat you weren’t going to see through to the end. Kaeya chuckled lightly and moved his free hand down to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing sweetly against your cheekbone. “You’re so obedient...”

He mumbled, his touch was gentle as he moved his hands up to tangle in your hair. It was almost too gentle and had you questioning his motives. You made eye contact with him and a sly grin spread across his face like wildfire. Without warning his grip tightened to hold your head in place. He slammed hips against your face, bottoming out completely in the back of your tight throat. He groaned out quietly and under his breath, as the ridges of your throat and mouth constricted against his thick shaft. Your soft lips tickled the underside of the base of his cock. His pants sagged and his balls pressed against the stubble of your chin, which only edged him on and reflexively urged his hips to thrust against your face. He exhaled with a light chuckle that sifted through the quiet air of the confinement cell.

You whimpered, drooling all over his cock as you squeezed your eyes shut, it took everything in you not to milk and pump your shaft. Your balls were heavy and full and you ached for a release that you didn’t think you’d get. Kaeya looked down on you to subconsciously check to see if you were okay and to see the sight of his dick disappearing down your throat. He pulled back by a few centimeters and you successfully breathed in through your nose. The taste of his pre on your tongue reminded you of a fermented apple wine. None too surprising to say the least and all the more enjoyable.

Kaeya rutted into your mouth again, you choked and he chuckled. He felt your tongue swirl around his shaft against a prominent vein that curved up from the base of his cock. Your leg twitched in need as he moved, beginning a rough and steady rhythm. He noticed the bulge in your throat, it only made him move faster. Kaeya let out deep exhale and a light moan that was simply music to your ears. His head tilted back as you took him, he glanced down at you for a moment and his lips curled into a smile seeing you hard at work.

“If your mouth is this tight, I wonder how your ass must feel.” He teased you, moving one hand down to wipe away that inevitable tears that formed in your eyes. His other hand loosened in your hair but still rested in place idly. He pulled back completely, giving you a chance to breathe. As you caught your breath Kaeya looked down at you, the blush that stained your cheeks inflated his ego a bit. He arched a brow, waiting for you to keep going.

You gave into that cute, suggestive stare and moved your hand up to stroke him; something you wanted to do for yourself since he started fucking talking. You dragged your tongue along the thick length of his member before taking him into your mouth. What you didn’t choke down, you pumped with your hand. Kaeya finally let out a proper moan it was deep and breathy, he started throbbing in your mouth and palm; biting down on his lower lip in ecstasy. In the midst of milking him dry he took hold of your hair again, only to push himself right back down your throat, he needed that tight fit to finish him off. You were going to swallow it all, not that you minded; he was as inebriating as Everclear. As he filled your throat and mouth, he pulled back his warm cum dripping down your chin. He watched you reach up to wipe it away and lick the back of your hand.

His eye drifted down to your continually throbbing erection, he noticed a dark spot where your own pre had ruined your trousers. He stepped back and moved his hand away from your hair, shifting as he pulled his pants up only to zip them up. Your expression was absolutely priceless in his eyes. You opened your mouth to speak to find that your jaw was already sore from his earlier actions. Kaeya moved to sit on the edge of the table again with a light smile on his face.

“What?” He says like he didn’t just pump his seed down your throat. He made an ‘O’ with his mouth as he looked at your disheveled and needy appearance as if he had forgotten. He didn’t. He moved to toss you a key to the restraints you were in. “You’re free to go and...do something about that.” He smiled with a teasing glint in his eye, you looked at the key in front of you. Picking it up with a frown on your face as your freed yourself. “I told you I’d teach you lesson you wouldn’t forget.” He chuckled moving to cross his arms over his chest. You looked at him and he smirked.

“Asshole.” You mumbled, moving to stand up, Kaeya looked your way not feeling remorseful in the slightest.

“You do realize you tried to assault me and steal my vision. I think I let you off rather easy if you ask me. Going straight to Jean just didn’t feel right.” He quipped, and stood to walk over to the door opening it up for you to go. “I don’t want to see you here again, I’d rather the Cat’s Tail or Angel share preferably. Maybe then you’d get a proper..reward and the aftercare I so graciously give to those who listen.” He said, completely insinuating he wanted to see you again under the right circumstances. With a pout you exited the cell, there wasn’t really much you could say to that. You were indeed happy you didn’t have to spend the night in a dingy unlivable cell. Kaeya leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. “Till we meet again King of Thieves.”

Bonus

A week went by, you were at Sara’s sitting down to a late night meal before heading off to Springvale for a few days to visit family. You poked at the fisherman’s toast you ordered, thinking about the Knight who left you thoroughly frustrated. You wanted to beat his ass in all honesty but, apart of you just wanted to—

“Well if it isn’t The King of Thieves.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact kaeya #genshin impact kaeya x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin kaeya #gi kaeya #genshin impact imagines #kaeya imagines #kaeya genshin impact #kaeya x reader #kaeyagenshinimpact #I love Kaeya lmao #sooo I’m writing something called the contract with Zhongli anddddddd 👀

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delimeful · 4 years ago

Text

(dont) take this the wrong way (5)

warnings: injury, blood mentions, past psychological&emotional&physical abuse, ptsd, sickness

Virgil woke up, which was only unsurprising for the few moments it took him to 1. realize that his head was pounding and 2. remember the two very large reasons why.

His eyes flew open, and he found himself half-submerged in a shallow pool of cool water, surrounded by flat ledges of dry rock. The sound of ocean waves lapping against the cliffside echoed around the cavern, which was dimly lit by overhead cracks in the ceiling.

In one of these beams of paltry light, Logan was slumped over on his side, glasses askew. Virgil’s relief at seeing him was instantly overshadowed by terror at what could have happened to the human after Virgil had gone and gotten his skull knocked against rock.

His headache worsened, and he lifted a hand to press against the sore spot, pausing when he found more of those stiff bandage strips wrapped around his head.

The soft sloshing of water seemed to be enough to startle Logan into wakefulness, and the human brightened slightly at the sight of him. “Virgil. It’s good to see you awake. Are you feeling any pain or nausea?”

“What happened?” Virgil replied in lieu of the real answer, which was ‘everything hurts’. “Where are we, I thought we were dead for sure—!”

“Take a few deep breaths,” Logan advised, shuffling closer to the pool and offering a hand. Virgil took it gratefully. “We’re not currently in any danger. I believe we’re at the home of the seal-hybrid mer, if—“

“We’re what?!” Virgil’s voice dropped to a horrified double pitch, his grip on Logan’s hand instantly turning crushing.

“Ow,” Logan said in a pointed monotone. Virgil eased up before his claws could turn the human’s palm into bloody ribbons. “Let me finish, please. I’ve managed to work out a rudimentary method of communication, and as far as I know, we’re not currently at risk.”

“From the giant mer-eating monsters that literally kidnapped us, you mean?”

“Yes, that was the potential risk I was referring to.” Logan pulled Virgil further upright, reaching out with his free hand. “More importantly, you’ve been out for some time. Will you allow me to take a look at your injury?”

Virgil shuffled a little closer, allowing the hand to make contact with him. He had traversed currents of all temperatures, but in chilled still waters like this, Logan’s warmth was more than welcome. “I dunno how that’s more important than our inevitable, rapidly-approaching deaths, but sure, fine. Knock yourself out.”

“I will not? You are already dealing with a likely concussion, I see no reason to double that number.” Logan squinted at him like he was concerned that the head wound had taken a worse toll than he’d thought.

“No, it’s-- it’s just an expression. Don’t actually pass out, or I’ll freak out.”

“Ah,” Logan acknowledged, his hand twitching like he wanted to grab something before returning to carefully peeling the bandages away. “My apologies. Colloquialisms are not my strong suit.”

Virgil blinked back at him, because five syllable words were a little much even when he wasn’t concussed. “No worries?”

Logan continued to gently probe the back of his head. A sharp pang made him jerk away with a muted hiss, his vision blurring with pain as the sharp motion only agitated all his other cuts. He waved off Logan’s apology before it was fully formed. “S’fine. What’s the damage?”

“The bleeding has stopped, which is a good sign. It’s swelled significantly, but the cool water is hopefully helping reduce that as well. The best course of action now is for you to rest and recover in a dark, quiet place, ideally for at least two full days.”

“Yeah, but that’s not happening unless we get away first,” Virgil shot back, irritably twitching his fins down as Logan rewrapped the injury. The human let out a slow breath.

“Virgil. I believe the situation isn’t as dire as you think.” He settled back on his heels, back stiff as he spoke. “Our captors have shown no signs of aggression or hunger, even with the significant bleeding from your head wound. It’s possible--”

“It’s not possible!” Virgil cut him off, scowling fiercely. “That doesn’t mean anything. They’re playing some kind of sick game the way they always do, and if you let them trick you, you’re going to lose!”

Logan looked back at him inquisitively, still not getting it. “What evidence are you basing this off of? I was under the impression that you’ve spent only marginally more time in their company than me. Have they attempted to trick you in the past?”

“Yes, no, I mean--,” Virgil groaned, pulling at his bangs. “They don’t have to say it. That’s just how giants like them operate. We’re smaller, they can do what they want to us, we don’t get a say in it. You escape or you die.”

“Yet, we’ve been in their admittedly less-than-ideal care for over 24 hours, and they haven’t hurt us or made any indications they intend to hurt us.” Logan gestured expansively, his hand a bit wobbly. “That’s a rather long time to pretend, and for what purpose? If it was what they desired, we have been easy targets for a meal from the moment they relocated us.”

A rather long time to pretend. Virgil swallowed down a hysterical laugh, feeling dizzy. If a day of false niceties was all it took to buy his trust, he’d have never gotten away from his first encounter with a giant mer. “You’re— you’re human. You don’t know anything about this.”

Logan frowned. “I may be human, but that does not make me an idiot. Even with a language barrier, body language and expression are invaluable tools for communication, and I’ve been doing very little but observe them while you were unconscious. Virgil, if you just tried talking to them—“

“No!” he snapped, curling in even as his fins flared wide and threatening. He wouldn’t do this again, wouldn’t be subjected to the world’s most torturous game of catch and release, wouldn’t be lured back into too-tight hands by false promises and meaningless apologies. He couldn’t do that again.

Measured, rhythmic tapping on the back of his hand slowly brought him back to the present, cool air and Logan’s steady voice by his side. His throat was closed-up-too-tight, his gills too far out of the water to switch lungs— but the rhythm was counted out over and over, breathe in, hold, and out.

“There you go,” Logan said as Virgil took in another long, shuddering drag of air. “Well done.”

The air smelled like iron. He realized that somewhere in the past few minutes, he’d dug his claws into the soft sides of the human’s hand, drawing blood. He pulled away as though he’d been burned.

Logan didn’t even twitch, still searching his gaze intently. “Are you with me?”

Virgil nodded stiffly. “Yeah, I— fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I didn’t realize— but I should have.” A deep, resolved breath. “It’s okay. I’ll find you a way out that doesn’t involve interacting with them.” Logan’s gaze went distant and hazy with thought, and Virgil hesitantly drew closer, pulling a bandage free to wrap around his bleeding hand.

… He was really warm. Clammy, too, and he’d been sitting in a cold, wet cave for hours, hadn’t he? Had been completely drenched for even longer.

“You’re sick,” Virgil said, and Logan took a moment too long to refocus on him. How had it taken him so long to notice? “That’s why you need me to talk to them. You need to get home.”

“My illness is no more severe than your injuries,” he deflected, adjusting his glasses clumsily. “Right now, the priority is getting you away from triggering circumstances. If my suspicions are correct, I will be fine regardless.”

Right. His suspicions, based on his willingness to trust his own abductors. He’d trusted Virgil, too, back in those tunnels. He’d known that he might be abandoned and he’d freed Virgil anyways, taken his hand anyways. Gotten hurt for his trouble.

He’d get hurt worse if Virgil left him here.

“... Yeah,” Virgil said, tucking the edge of the bandage in carefully. “But you should sleep for now. We both should. You said they haven’t done anything yet, right?”

“Yes, but…,” Logan’s brow was furrowed slightly, as though he knew something was off, but wasn’t quite sure what. “I mean, you do need rest. If… If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Virgil replied, curling against the edge of the pool and pillowing his head on his arms to hide their shaking. “Get some sleep, Specs.”

—

It was early morning when Patton woke to the splash of something small dropping into the water from his air room.

The room wasn’t overly large, being designed only for occasional use when he needed some extra oxygen in his system. It was also quite a few caves up above his sleeping den, but with two delicate little guests staying over, his senses were on high alert. He disentangled from Roman, who had been clinging to him for extra warmth, waking the shark mer in the process.

“Mwha’huh?” he asked groggily, and Patton chuckled at the way one side of his hair had been pressed into a tangled bundle.

“I think they may be awake!” he reported quietly, and Roman perked right up. They had originally hovered in the room over the two of them, only leaving after the human-- busy tending to the tiny mer’s wounds-- had gotten too fed up and used charades to shoo them away, leaving them with nothing to do but sit around and think about how badly they’d messed up. As such, they were both more than eager to start fixing things.

Upon popping up into the air room, however, they found only the human, lying completely still apart from the slow rise and fall of his chest. Deep in sleep, with an empty pool at his side.

Roman and Patton exchanged a panicked look, and ducked back underwater to search through his home and see where, exactly, the injured mer had gone.

It didn’t take long to spot him. The mer had practically every fin and frill puffed out, even the ones that were still injured. The threat display as eye-catching as they got.

He was hovering in the opening of a vent crevice, one that helped circulate seawater through the caves. It was small enough that if he vanished through it, they wouldn’t be able to stop him or see where he was headed. He knew it, too, staring them down with sharp defiance rather than absolute terror.

“Don’t move,” he said, as though they hadn’t both frozen at the sight of him. “I’m going to-- to make a deal with you.”

“A deal?” Roman asked, and received a sharp, wild-eyed glare for his troubles.

“Yeah, a deal. The other one is sick,” a slight jerk of the head toward the air room, “so he won’t last long here. Probably already too far gone to even play a single game.”

Patton was torn between concern (the human was sick?) and confusion. Game?

“But I’m fine. I’ve had much worse than this.” The mer drifted back slightly, closer to the crevice. “If I leave now, you’ll never find me, and then Lo-- the human will die, and you won’t have anything to play with.”

A creeping sense of dread overcame Patton. He still didn’t know what was going on, but it was sounding more and more like something was seriously wrong here.

“So, a deal. You take the human back to where you found him, and I’ll stay-- I’ll stay here,” his voice cracked painfully, but he ignored it, staring at them with a desperate sort of intensity. “With you. I won’t try to get away or anything. I-- I swear.”

“Get away?” Roman asked, his voice going high with the same sort of horror that currently swamping Patton. The mer ducked back at the sound, gaze flitting between them, some of that terror returning.

“I will! I’ll leave, if you-- you can either have one or none, that’s the deal, I’m not kidding. I’m not!” His fins flared wider, blood beginning to leak from some of them. “He’s human anyways, he can barely even swim, you don’t want him--”

“Kiddo,” Patton cut in urgently, raising his hands peacefully and trying not to wince when the mer flinched, “if he’s sick, of course we’ll take him back to where he can get help. No deals necessary, okay?”

The little guy didn’t look reassured at all. “I want to watch. I have to see you put him back, where other humans will find him, or else the deal’s off.”

He didn't believe them. Patton exchanged a helpless look with Roman, who finally nodded.

“Of course,” the shark mer said, “You are more than welcome to accompany us back to the mainland where Patton found him, provided that you’re not exacerbating your injuries.”

The mer hissed at him, a tiny, reedy sound. “And whose fault is that?”

“Irresponsible human fishing vessels?” Roman tried, and then wilted under both Patton and the mer’s looks when the joke fell flat. He cleared his throat. “It is, of course, mine. I wanted to apologize for the way I manhandled you before. Regardless of my intentions, it was unbefitting behavior, and it hurt you. I am truly sorry.”

He bowed with a little flourish, moving slower than normal. The mer stared at his bowed head apprehensively, and then covered the look up with a distrustful scowl.

“If you’re sorry, get Logan out of this place before he gets any worse,” he finally replied, and Patton nodded and went to retrieve the human-- Logan, presumably.

Glancing over his shoulder as he left, he could see the way the tiny mer’s fins had settled just slightly, not quite as frantically overextended as before.

It was a start.

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #ts roman #mermaid au #my writing #dont take this the wrong way #dtttww #writing #g/t #virgil sweetie what the fuck #- logan next chapter

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rvmmm21 · 3 years ago

Note

Would you comsider a steamy wenrene where irene is gentle with her wannie? you can make it yandere but please I just need to see irene be nice to wendy for a change 😢😢😢😢

considered. written. how does it feel to get a whole bunch of NOTHING. hahaha. i tried, but what am i if not a frustrating pit of maybes. have your 50%.

tw: wendy’s LIES.

– – – – –

“Wan–ah, don’t be ridiculous.” Joohyun calls back as Seungwan’s hand reaches for the door, patting the mattress beside her in that totally–not–demanding–but–demanding voice of hers. “I know you’ve been having nightmares. Sleep with me tonight.”

Seungwan freezes, then dips her gaze. Damn, the duvet on Joohyun’s side suddenly looks ten times fluffier than hers. It… can’t hurt, right? Just one night. After a visible deliberation, Seungwan edges her way over and gingerly settles down, lifting the duvet and artlessly snuggling under it with a nervous chuckle. Gosh, it’s even warmer than she’d expected. Or… wait, is that just her own body heat from how fast her heart is going? She has no idea. And it’s not like she can think of much other than the whiffs of that crisp fabric conditioner Joohyun loves to use.

“Night, Wannie. Sweet dreams. I hope you—”

“G’night unnie,” Seungwan accidentally interjects Joohyun while she’s bidding her goodnight. She half expects an eye-roll for that awkward timing but Joohyun simply huffs fondly and turns to face away from her.

Wow, good job. No, seriously. Way to go, Seungwan. Jesus.

The older is out like a light, leaving the other sweating in the dark with a racing heart and an embarrassingly explicit reel of thoughts.

It’s fine, it’s not like she’ll know, right? I’ll just stay up, Seungwan thinks, pulling the duvet up under her chin. For a good two minutes, all she can hear is the sound of the soft snoring next to her. She focuses on her own mechanical breathing, staring up into the darkness.

The gentle draft from the ceiling fan is drying her eyes out. That’s fine, though. Because she has no intention of sleeping.

As much as Seungwan is determined, so is the fatigue. And it isn’t long before she’s drifting off into the first proper sleep she’s had in forever. Thank god they established the mandatory ten inches of space between them before Joohyun knocked out. There’s no way Seungwan’s crossing that boundary anytime soon; invisible as it may be, and as loudly as Joohyun may have laughed at her when she suggested it.

What was it Joohyun called her? A weirdo? Whatever, she isn’t about to take any chances. Especially not when she’s almost four hundred percent sure Joohyun doesn’t know about the… little crush she’s harbouring.

A little later on into the night Seungwan feels a distant tapping on her shoulder, and then she’s opening her eyes to a gentle smile nudging her awake. It’s only her side profile, but Joohyun’s beauty is dazzling, even through the filter of the night. Seungwan unconsciously licks her lips.

“Wan–ah, it’s nice but—” the older woman pauses for a soft yawn, “bit looser please… hard to breathe.”

Once Seungwan shakes herself awake enough to make sense of what she’s hearing, she barely manages to keep from having a heart attack right there and then. She is— to her absolute horror— curled right into Joohyun’s back, practically nuzzling into the nape of her neck with her arms wrapped (breath–takingly snugly, apparently) around her waist, like a little puppy snuggled up to the warmth of its mother.

“Oh!” she yelps, reeling back in shock and doing her best to let Joohyun know she’s repulsed at herself, not her.

I— I thought you were my bolster, unnie?! She wants to scream.

Too bad she’s so preoccupied in berating herself to notice the look on Joohyun’s face. The one that screams she anything but minded. Seungwan tries to detach herself from Joohyun’s back, but to her surprise, Joohyun stops her with a firm— “It’s okay. Stay.”— and an arm on top of hers, holding it there.

Guess they’re spooning tonight.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They’re kissing. Joohyun’s kissing her. Electrified dewdrops on grass blades catch between Seungwan’s prying fingertips, cool and wet. One by one, they’re absentmindedly plucked out of the soil when Joohyun connects their smiles in the humid summer air, murakami flowers embroidering their hearts together.

The scent of vanilla–mint shampoo is cloying her nose. She’s tasting her, fingers are tangling in her hair, tilting her back slightly…

“J–Joohyun unnie…”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“W—Wannie?”

A perfect voice cuts through her dream, a hand on her shoulder already gingerly rousing her from her sleep.

Again.

“Wan—ah… you said my name.” And of course, Joohyun’s groggy voice sounds good enough to kiss, damn it. “Are you having a bad dream?”

“Mm… sorry unnie, sorry…” Seungwan mumbles softly, rolling onto her back with a huff and palming her eyes, trying to adjust to reality.

Joohyun shimmies closer. Her vision is fuzzy, but she can still see Seungwan. Gosh, she thinks, giving her a once over, that dream must’ve been horrible. The poor thing is sweating.

If only Joohyun knew the truth, the warmth in Seungwan’s cheeks might’ve been raised several degrees… alongside the warmth below her waistband.

Suddenly the room is far, far too hot. Suddenly, Seungwan wishes she wasn’t trapped under Joohyun’s incredibly comfortable duvet with the most attractive woman on the planet. She tries to stretch her legs, tries to create a small air pocket to let some of that suffocating heat escape, but it does little to cool anything down. Ironically, it garners more of Joohyun’s attention, feeling the other girl shift so uncomfortably like that. After a couple of tense, silent moments, Seungwan’s tolerance snaps and she moves to get up. But Joohyun catches this instinctively and snakes an arm around her waist, tugging her down, stopping her from leaving again.

Seungwan seems adamant this time, though. “Unnie… I should go back to my room—”

Joohyun isn’t listening, choosing instead to press her with a question of her own. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you were dreaming about?”

Whatever, Seungwan thinks, just give her the sparknotes version. There’s no need for her to know everything.

“We…” she admits slowly, “… we were in the grassy patch under the tree… you— you know, where we usually…?”

She pauses to make sure Joohyun is following. Sure enough, that patient nod gives her the answer she needs to nervously clear her throat.

“And it was raining but it stopped, and then… and then. Ahh, I don’t know. I think I need to cool off, unnie, I need to pee anyway,” Seungwan lies. She barely manages to pull the covers off her and push her hands into the mattress before Joohyun is gently holding her down to it, hovering over her in a way that has her airways clogged and her heartbeat an irregular mess.

“You’re sweating,” Joohyun points out the one thing Seungwan’s trying to hide. “You’re overheated. Are you feeling alright?”

Seungwan wants to say yes. So, so badly. But she shakes her head. It’s not a definitive shake, but it’s one vague enough that Joohyun remains inquisitive. Seungwan curses herself for being so honest. Why couldn’t she just push her out of the way? And did she have to agree to sleeping with her tonight? Why couldn’t she just have said it was a nightmare?

Why can she never lie to Joohyun? Even if it’s to preserve her own dignity?

“I’m going to the bathroom. I really have to pee.” Seungwan insists, and Joohyun is all but convinced. She looks down at the girl under her with such gentleness. And then she leans over, supporting herself on one elbow beside Seungwan’s head while she brings her other hand up to caress her cheek.

There’s a tiny gasp from the girl at the sudden (but not entirely unwelcome) closeness. “... unnie… you— you’re too close.”

Joohyun gracefully ignores her, moving her fingers from Seungwan’s face to trace the loose neckline of her t-shirt, showing her exactly what she means. “I think you want me closer, don’t you, Wannie?”

“You’re blushing all over. Look, here…” Joohyun starts with a cold finger on Seungwan’s lower abdomen, sending a heated chill up her spine. She sucks in a sharp breath when Joohyun folds the hem of her sleep shirt up, exposing the flushed skin on her stomach. “... and here, too…”

“U-Unnie… please…”

But her unnie’s hand wanders wherever it pleases, ignorant to Seungwan’s helpless pleas. It strays further and further south and the younger girl isn’t even aware of what’s going on until there are fingers teasing at the waistband of her shorts.

“Seungwan?”

— who has been subconsciously licking her lips, stops as soon as she realises Joohyun’s eyes have been following the movements of her tongue the entire time.

“Seungwan,” Joohyun repeats, resting a hand on her thigh, “what happened next, in your dream…”

Ah, what’s the worst that could happen? Seungwan tells Joohyun the truth and spontaneously combusts. That, or they never speak or look each other in the eyes ever again. Joohyun’s already gotten this far, Seungwan thinks she has nothing else to lose.

Her voice is hardly louder than a whisper. “We… kissed. You— you kissed me.”

She isn’t sure if the older woman is actually paying attention to the highlight of her dream anymore, because the feathery touch that had been resting on her hip bone is now skimming down, seeking the heat emanating from between her legs. She lets out an embarrassed squeak that dissolves into a strangled whimper when Joohyun strokes over her panties.

“And did you like it, Wannie? Was I good?”

“Wha— huh? Unnie, what do you m—”

Joohyun doesn’t wait for a coherent answer. She leans down and shushes Seungwan’s stutter with a kiss, and a fierce new blush scribbles across the blonde’s cheeks as her eyes instinctively flutter closed.

Right now, Seungwan can’t deny it no matter how much she wants to.

“You’re amazing, unnie.”

Joohyun smiles. “Don’t worry Wannie, everything’s going to be alright. Let me take care of you now, okay?”

With bashful eyes, Seungwan nods. If Joohyun says it’ll be okay, she has no doubt that it will.

#anon #ask #red velvet #smut?????#implied or whatever #so sorry im not programmed that way #wenrene #this sat in my drafts for half a year too #and you can probably see why #nfsw????????#soft smut might not be for me.#WHAT IF WENDY REALLY HAD TO PEE THO

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years ago

Note

Colour Prompt :)

#22 - purple: bruise, pain, mystery

For Scott & John (& Gordon?)

A Little Ruthlessness

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Gordon, John, Scott

First thing I've written in a good week and a half, and the longest thing I've written in... a while (thank you, rl, for hitting me hard enough to wreck my muses when I was planning on celebrating finishing my dissertation by writing lots). Also highly self-indulgent because why not.

So we have some Scott&Gordon&John, which is a highly entertaining combination and I loved writing this. I think I actually hit all three of those prompts with this...

Colour Symbol Prompts

“He’s late,” Gordon huffed, fog erupting from his mouth as he rubbed his arms to stave off the winter chill. “What’s taking him so long?”

Leaning against a nearby wall nonchalantly, bundled up in so many layers Gordon had laughed when he’d first seen him and poking at his tablet, John shrugged. If Gordon didn’t know his brother as well as he did, he’d think the ginger wasn’t worried at all.

There was an urgency to the way he was poking at the screen, though. John didn’t do big, flashy, displays of emotion, but when you knew what to look for, the deliberate placement of each digit as he manipulated whatever was on the screen screamed unease, and even a little bit of frustration.

Their brother was supposed to have met up with them an hour ago, as soon as he escaped the social gathering he’d been coerced into by what Gordon could only assume was an old flame from high school. For all that Scott was naturally charismatic and popular, it was an open secret in their family that he hadn’t managed to keep any of his old high school friendships. Teenagers were fickle things, and he’d been too busy raising four younger brothers to fill the social quota they’d expected of him at the time, let alone after they lost Dad as well.

Still, the high school reunion had called, and for some reason, Scott had answered.

He wasn’t supposed to stay there so long, though. Gordon and John had both determined that there was a high chance Scott would be leaving the reunion reminded of all the reasons why he hadn’t been able to keep those friendships and decided to make their own arrangements for the evening. Nothing outlandish – not when John was involved – but a trio of brothers hanging out without the stress of their otherwise busy lives hanging over them.

Not the usual trio of brothers that might be expected to hang out, but as much as Virgil would always jump to help Scott, where they had planned really wasn’t for their softer brother – and Alan was underage anyway.

Beating casinos at their own money-laundering game required just a touch of ruthlessness, and that was very much John’s area of expertise. Gordon found it fun, and Scott always enjoyed taking selfish rich snobs a peg or several. It also required enough strategic thinking and brainpower to cut off any unwelcome dwelling their big brother might otherwise land himself in.

That meant nothing if Scott wasn’t even showing up in the first place.

“Have you called him?” Gordon shot over at John, who was still poking away deliberately at his tablet.

“No answer,” the ginger replied, breath fogging in front of his own face. He didn’t even seem to notice – then again, all those ridiculous layers were probably doing their job to keep him warm. Gordon’s had failed him about half an hour ago. In his defence, he hadn’t exactly planned to be hanging around in the cold this long. “He’s not read any messages, either.”

If they’d gone to all this trouble to plan a pick-me-up for Scott after an expected downer of an evening, their big brother had better not have managed to find some entertainment and forgotten to let them know.

But that wasn’t like Scott at all – even if he had initially forgotten, a call or message from John would have reminded him instantly.

Gordon shivered again. Something didn’t seem right.

“So now what?” he asked instead, not because he didn’t have any ideas – crashing the reunion was an obvious one that sprung to mind – but because John was probably already enacting a plan or several of his own already.

“His phone’s location transmitter’s off,” John said by way of answer. “Actually, his phone seems to be dead in general.” The same phone John and Scott had both checked was fully charged on the way here so he didn’t lose contact with them?

Gordon’s eyes narrowed.

“So what have you got?” There was no way John hadn’t got something by now.

“His watch isn’t transmitting, either,” his brother reported. “But…” He trailed off, staring intently at something Gordon couldn’t see on the screen.

The temptation was there to prod him – verbally or literally – but unlike when John was a mere hologram that may or may not be transmitting, this time Gordon could see that he was mid-thought, still working, still doing something to figure out why their big brother had gone dark, and held back.

It didn’t take John long to finish whatever he was doing.

“I’ve got a location.” The astronaut kicked off from the wall he was leaning against and started striding forwards, long legs uncaring that Gordon’s were much shorter. It took a second or two to jog to catch up.

“What have you got?” he repeated.

A map of the area flashed up above the tablet; orange and yellow highlighted their own position, moving quickly down the street, while a flickering blue icon blinked in and out of existence unsteadily down a side alley four blocks away.

“You said it wasn’t transmitting?”

“It’s not,” John said shortly. “I triangulated all the signals within the appropriate parameters until I picked up traces of its electronic residue.”

Residue didn’t sound promising. Gordon resumed his jog, knowing that John was fully capable of keeping up with him, and mentally mapped out the shortest route to the weakly flickering blue dot. It was staying in the exact same location, not even a slight waver in position, and that, Gordon really didn’t like.

Scott wasn’t one for staying still.

Unconsciously, his pace hastened further. By the time the alley loomed ahead, visible in person and not just lines on a hologram, he was all but sprinting. John was a little way behind him, but that was fine.

Gordon’s instincts screamed for him to keep going, to charge straight into the alley and find out what was going on, but he reined them in, forcing his legs to slow to a walk, and then a stop at the entrance to the alley.

They had no idea what they were walking into, and despite all the signs pointing to not, Gordon really didn’t want to interrupt if Scott had simply found entertainment and forgotten about them. More realistically, he also didn’t want to charge into a hostile situation unaware.

There were no sounds coming from the alley. Nothing to tell him what was going on, but also enough to tell him what wasn’t. With one glance back to see how far behind John was – not far, only seconds out – Gordon slipped around the corner.

Alleys were always somehow gloomier than the surrounding streets. Lighting never seemed to work quite so well; John could no doubt explain it, but an explanation wasn’t important right then.

What was important was that, in the resultant gloom, something was slumped over on the ground. Something that Gordon approached carefully, glancing around to make sure nothing else was laying in wait with a nasty surprise.

Nothing appeared, even as he took the last few steps, and his rigid restraint snapped.

“Scott!” His knee protested as it hit the street sharply but that was insignificant in the face of the ragdoll impersonation his eldest brother was doing spectacularly well. “Hey, Scott?”

His cold fingers found his brother’s throat, pressing up against the pulse point. Scott’s skin was almost as cold as his own, but the steady thrum of his heartbeat beat reassuringly against his fingertips.

Hurried footsteps behind him announced John’s arrival.

“Give me some light,” Gordon ordered, not looking up at him. A blink later and a pale, holographic blue washed over the pair of them. Tablets didn’t have the best torches in the world, but it did the job.

Scott’s eyes were closed, although the lack of response had already implied their brother was out cold. One had a spectacular ring of colour around it, matching the blotches that covered every visible section of skin. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth in a way that had Gordon fearfully inspecting his lip in the hopes that it was just a cut.

The light quivered a little as John knelt down on Scott’s other side.

“His watch is smashed,” the ginger reported. It made sense, considering how difficult it had been to track, but their watches were IR standard. They didn’t smash easily. “Broken wrist, too. How’s his head?”

“Bruised, like the rest of him,” Gordon replied. “Looks like he cut his lip on his tooth, and he’s going to have a fantastic shiner.” He gingerly felt around. “Splitting headache, too. His head’s not bleeding but it’s taken a hard knock.”

“Try and get a response while I deal with his wrist,” John ordered. The tablet light moved away from Scott’s face, leaving it shadowed by alley-gloom, but Gordon could still see well enough to lightly tap a less-colourful portion of his cheek.

“Hey, Scott,” he coaxed. “This isn’t a great place for a nap, you know, bro.” Rustling indicated that John was deploying something medical. Gordon wasn’t even surprised he had something on him, although it was probably brought along just in case gravity got the better of him, and not because he was expecting to patch up their brother when they’d left home earlier. “C’mon, Scotty.”

The faint groan he got was music to his ears.

“That’s right,” he encouraged. “Really not a good place to nap.”

In the gloom, he couldn’t make out the exact moment familiar blue eyes edged open, but he heard the second, louder, groan, followed almost immediately by a sharp inhale that could only be pain.

“G’don?”

“Right here,” he confirmed, resting his hands lightly on Scott’s shoulders in case his idiot of a brother thought attempting to sit up was a good idea. “John’s here, too.”

He got a pain-smothered grunt in response. Muscles twitched under his palms, and then he was predictably forced to keep Scott still.

“Nope,” he chirped. “No moving for you just yet. How’s his wrist, John?”

“Strapped up,” the ginger answered. “How aware is he?”

“’nuff,” Scott rasped weakly before Gordon could reply. “W’ah-ow.”

“Hospital or home?” Gordon looked away from Scott to glance at where John was once again poking at his tablet, somewhat awkwardly as he was also holding Scott’s arm still with one hand.

“’ome,” Scott interjected.

“We’re closer to Thunderbird One than the hospital,” John agreed. “Once we reach her we can run a scan.”

And if the scan showed up something they couldn’t handle at home, Thunderbird One could get Scott to a hospital faster than an ambulance. Gordon nodded.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed, looking back down at Scott. “I’ll need a hand picking him up.”

“Ic’n-”

“Nope.” He overrode Scott’s protest. “I doubt you can even see straight right now. You’re not walking.”

The wordless noise he got in response told him he was right, and that Scott didn’t want to admit it.

John’s tablet vanished somewhere in amongst the multitude of layers he was wearing as the ginger left Scott’s wrist to kneel opposite Gordon instead. “How do you want to do this?”

Gordon considered his options, quickly realising that the one that would hurt Scott the least was also the one his brother would hate the most. With no idea what damage he’d taken to the ribs, putting any substantial pressure on his abdomen could spell disaster.

He drew Scott’s unbroken wrist up, to renewed protest, and looped it around the back of his own neck. “It’s not far,” he said. “Bridal’s safest.” Not the easiest, but Gordon was always up for a challenge.

“No,” Scott huffed, but John nodded, like he’d come to the same conclusion. He probably had.

Between them it took no time at all to get Scott loosely in position, broken wrist cradled limply on his stomach as Gordon and John slipped their arms beneath him and prepared to shift.

“Whenever you’re ready,” John said, and Gordon’s mouth twisted into a wry grin.

“On three. One, two, three.”

Scott wasn’t light by any means, but despite his protests he didn’t resist as between the two of them they got him into the air, suspended between them for a moment before John carefully shifted his grip until the battered body of their big brother slipped neatly into Gordon’s arms.

His shoulders protested at the weight, but Gordon ignored them in favour of immediately starting to move. He wasn’t Virgil; he couldn’t carry Scott around as though he weighed nothing, and there was a definite, short, time limit before his muscles gave out.

Scott gave a pained huff, the air brushing past Gordon’s jaw. “Ic’n walk,” he muttered again. Gordon appreciated that he wasn’t trying to prove it, because if Scott actually tried, he’d almost certainly end up dropping him and probably injure them both in the process. At least Scott was mentally aware enough to recognise that.

“Not until we know how badly injured you are,” John told him firmly. “One’s not far from here.” Gordon let him lead the way, trusting him to pick out the shortest route to where the Thunderbird was secured. They left the gloom of the alley for the better-lit streets, and Gordon almost wished they hadn’t. The bruising had been bad enough in the half-light conjured by the tablet; under the powerful street lighting, Scott looked even worse.

When Gordon found out who did this to his brother, they were going to regret it.

Blue eyes, one barely able to open, were regarding him worriedly, as though Gordon was the one that needed fretting over. The hand slung over his shoulder squeezed shakily when something made him stumble, and Gordon grinned down at him thinly once he regained his footing.

“Nearly there,” he promised, both his brother and his protesting muscles. In front of him, John had reproduced his tablet from the volume of clothing he was wearing and was tapping away even as he led Gordon around another corner.

Thunderbird One glittered in the darkness of the park, tucked away mostly out of sight. The stealth coating Scott rarely bothered to use since the Zero-X had done its job at preventing gawkers gathering around, although now John had turned it off it was only a matter of time before late night crowds gathered.

Gordon stumbled again as he approached, muscles burning, and Scott let out an almost silent hiss. A hum of a hover stretcher murmured its way into earshot, guided by John, and Gordon gratefully let it take Scott’s weight, slipping his screaming arms out from underneath him and ducking away from the arm slung around his shoulder.

True to form, Scott immediately started to sit up, but John was there with a gentle but firm touch. In his other hand, the medscanner flickered yellow.

Rubbing at his protesting shoulders, Gordon was reluctantly relieved to hand over responsibility to his older brother as John somehow managed to keep Scott laying down long enough to get the stretcher inside Thunderbird One. Gordon followed, just in time to hear John sigh.

“-broken foot, so no, you couldn’t walk, Scott.”

“So,” he interrupted before Scott found a reason why that wouldn’t stop him. “What’s the verdict, Johnny?”

“Don’t call me that,” John snapped back automatically. “Nothing’s flagging up as beyond our facilities, but I’ve sent the results to Grandma for final verdict.”

Grandma, Virgil, and their arsenal of medical equipment could handle a lot, so that by itself wasn’t completely reassuring, but it went a little way towards it.

“Do we know what happened?” he asked, rather than dwell on that for long. “Scott?”

“N’dea,” his brother mumbled. “D’n r’mber ‘thing ‘fter th’arty.” He sounded put-out enough for it to be the truth.

Gordon caught John’s eye and the ginger’s lips thinned. They’d find out who did it, one way or another. No-one messed with their family and got away with it, no matter how much that contradicted with International Rescue’s philosophies.

Sometimes, a little ruthlessness was necessary.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #thunderwhump #drabbles #purfectpurple #a little ruthlessness

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postapocalyptic-cryptic-hold · 5 years ago

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Writing Tips: Concussions Edition

In keeping with my typical style, this post is not about the medical facts of concussions, as you can google those yourself pretty easily. Instead, it focuses on the more writing-oriented aspects of head injuries, as well as details that require some first hand knowledge to get right. I’m a hockey player, so in my day, I’ve both seen and had some nice bonks to the head to draw from. I’ll start with the hits themselves and then move into the immediate aftermath, and finish up by touching briefly on long-term effects.

The sounds of a concussion are surprisingly varied, and depend both on location and perspective. If you hit your head on something hard like concrete or a gym floor, you will hear a crack like something brittle breaking. You may not focus on the sound for very long (or possibly not notice it at all) but those around you will definitely hear the same gunshot-esque crack. On softer surfaces, like firm dirt and grass, the sound of your head hitting the ground will be more of a konk sound, both to you and those around you.

When you hit your head, it will probably bounce. If you’re not too out of it already, you will feel this and it is kind of funny. In my experience, you get maximum bounce from hitting grass or hitting a hard surface while wearing a helmet, and minimum bounce from direct skull-to-concrete action.

If you hit the ground shoulders or back first, the momentum from your fall will whip your head into the ground, making the impact to your head worse than the initial fall. You can also hurt your neck like this. This motion will be dramatic enough to be noticed by outside observers.

Hitting your head fairly lightly doesn’t usually hurt right away. There will probably be a moment of shock before a wave of pain comes, originating from the point of impact and sweeping through your head.

Light hits to the head (which I will now refer to as non-concussion hits) can still cause a significant amount of pain and disorientation. It may take a little while to accurately judge how hard you actually hit your head, as it is a sensitive region of the body. If the hit was a non-concussion hit, however, the original wave of pain will move through your head and fade away soon after.

Hard hits (concussion-causing) are a bit different. Those might start hurting right away, though not in a way that registers as pain to you. You might indeed see bright lights and blurry images, though they probably won’t seem like the cartoon kind. It’s more of a look like you’re still moving very fast, even though you’re still.

In that same disorienting time period, you probably won’t be able to tell what you’re doing or what kind of position you’re in. Your brain is scrambled and your body is in high-alert. For a good panic-inducing ten seconds or so, you will be living in a world of extreme pain, bright colors, blurry images, and confusion. The best way to describe it is that sensations register in their most simple forms. Someone yelling to you will simply register as sound. Nothing more specific. Just sound.

From the outside, this is a very distinctive look. Someone who has just hit their head will probably curl their arms around their head instinctively, balling up to protect themselves. They may seem completely panicked and unreachable for a little while, and they’ll need some time to process what happened.

Now, there is another level of head injuries: the ones that knock you out. If you get hit hard enough, you might just briefly black out. People around you probably won’t notice unless they know you well (example: I can tell right away when one of my teammates has passed out, but for another girl, I wouldn’t know), and it doesn’t seem like a big deal. If you manage to get up after this, it’s probably because you have no idea what’s happening. You won’t feel any pain. You won’t feel or think much at all for a little while, actually.

If someone is severely concussed (the brain injury kind) they might be in and out of consciousness for a while. They’re not totally out, but they might as well be. This is very dangerous, and you should call emergency services.

Now it’s time to get into the aftermath of a head injury. Not the medical treatment, but the much later stuff. Someone with a history of concussions is much more likely to get one again. That’s fairly common knowledge. What’s not is the fact that those same people may react differently to even light hits to the head. What may seem like a simple tap to you could cause them extreme pain for several minutes at a time. The more times you get hit, the longer it takes you to recover.

Now, let’s talk about writing experienced characters. In the same way a wrestler can tell their weight without a scale, someone who is used to head injuries can probably tell right away if their injury is severe. They know all the signs. They don’t need to wait for the bump.

Fight scenes and concussions make good combos, especially when you bring in experienced characters. A character who is focused on their own safety or some goal will probably spring right back up from a non-concussion hit or even a light concussion-causing hit. There will be a moment of disorientation, sure, but after that, their first instinct will be to run for safety. Get somewhere safe ASAP so you can assess the injury. This occurs almost unconsciously. When I hit my head in hockey, I’m at the bench almost before I know what’s happened.

However, you cannot “fight through” a major head injury. This is something I see a lot in fiction. No matter how badass you are, there comes a point where you just can’t get up, and even if you can, you’re useless. It’s not about pain tolerance or any kind of toughness, because concussions aren’t normal injuries. When you hit your head hard, your world goes away for a little while. You’re in pain, you’re confused, and you can’t really control your own body. There’s no getting up from that, at least not right away.

Hope you guys found this helpful! I’ll be back soon with more whump writing tips, turning my hockey playing into creativity.

#whump #concussions #whump trope #whump scenario #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #writing tips #author #creative writing #fiction #whump prompt #head injury #head injuries

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whump-a-la-mode · 4 years ago

Text

Gilded Cage - Part 2

Thanks so much to everyone who read and voted on part 1! The votes were very close. In the end, option A won out, with 6 votes, while option B received 4 votes. That means that Villain will tell Journalist the truth.

I received a number of amazing suggestions for this part, based on the questions from last time around. I would like to publish their names to credit them, but I am currently waiting to see if they would like this or not. I’ll edit this post if they give me permission to publish their names.

Edit: @jenny-ruths-writing-blog has given me permission to credit them for their ideas. I would appreciate it a lot if you would give them some love, they’re just starting out.

I hope you enjoy!

CW// Imprisonment, collars, shock collars, villain whumpee, implied torture, depiction of a panic attack, scopophobia, mentions of death, mentions of hostage taking

Villain didn’t notice when they fell.

They weren’t even sure that they fell at all. One second, they were on their feet, face stretched into a smile. The next, their knees grew weak, and they were on the ground, a pain growing in the back of their head as though it had been struck.

Their vision blurred as they felt their breathing speed up, paradoxically increasing to such a point that they were no longer taking in sufficient oxygen. They couldn’t feel their hands, or their legs, or... Oh god oh god oh god, where were they? Why couldn’t they breathe?

It was hard to be sure whether the pressure on their shoulders was real, or just another hallucination of an oxygen-starved mind. As the other pains softened into the background, however, that pressure stayed.

There was a noise... where was it coming from?

Was it a voice? Or music? Or just a far away hum of the fluorescent lights? Slowly, slowly, it began to fade closer and closer to reality.

“Hey, hey, oh god, please don’t tell me you’re having a heart attack or something. God dammit, you hit your head, can you hear me?”

The words blended together into a mix of slurring syllables, all spoken with a tone of nerves and concern.

Concern.

They had almost forgotten what that sounded like.

“Please, please say something. You’re not dead, right? That’s not how death works, right? Come on, come on.”

The pressure on their shoulders tensed and loosened in rapid succession, managing to somewhat revive their consciousness. Breaths rapid and shivering, they opened their eyes. Though it took a few seconds for their vision to clear, they still jumped at the face only a few inches from their own.

“Hey, hey. Are you awake? I see you- Your eyes, come on. Are you okay? Please, please be okay.”

Villain’s thoughts swam in their head a moment, a plastic ball drifting about in a fishtank. Their training returned to them faster than their senses, and their empty expression suddenly sprung to one of politely metered cheer.

“I’m just fine, Journalist. I apologize. I must have fallen.”

They shook their head, shaking off as much of the panic as they could. The words had come out on instinct, not out of thought, and Journalist seemed to have noticed.

“You... You fainted. I think? You don’t have a fever, do you?”

One of the hands on their shoulders moved to their forehead, flinching away a moment later.

“You’re cold. Um... is that bad? That’s like, the opposite of a fever, right?”

“‘m okay...” Villain muttered, remembering where their half-numb hands were and using them to right themself into a sitting position on the tiled bathroom floor.

“What happened?”

“It’s... I’m fine.” The words came out dully. It was hard to feel sorrow when feeling emotion at all was nearly impossible.

“Is it this thing?” Again, the hand moved, this time to their neck. A shiver ran up Villain’s spine as fingers ran along the scarred flesh beneath their collar.

They should have been used to being touched, even when in such a state, but for some reason, it was just making them feel worse.

“Please. It’s okay.” They protested. They just wanted to go back to sleep. “Don’t worry yourself.”

“No. No.” Journalist, who seemed to have formerly been in a kneeling position, shifted their legs so that they were sitting criss-cross before Villain. Their breathing slowed, panic turning to concern on their countenance. “If you’re sick, or hurt, or something, I can’t let you go out there and do that interview. It’ll just make you feel worse.”

“I’m not hurt! Or sick.” Their protests grew in volume and intensity as they fought to get to their feet. Their attempts were, however, thwarted, as the feeling in their legs had yet to fully return just yet. “Please. Just drop it.”

Journalist frowned.

“Villain. Tell me what’s going on. Please. We- I can get you to a doctor? We have a van just outside... Fainting out of nowhere isn’t normal.”

Villain blinked a few times, lips ajar. They didn’t know what to do. There was no script for this. They could do ‘how are you,’ they had the response for that well memorized, but ‘are you okay’ ? They didn’t know that one. They’d never been taught that one.

They...

Villain wanted so badly to lie. To smile, perhaps say that they slipped, or that they were narcoleptic, or something. Anything that would get them out of here and back on script.

But...

When would anyone ever ask them again? Ask them what was wrong? Offer to help? With their luck, it would almost certainly be never.

Almost unconsciously, they wrapped their arms around their chest. A comforting hug. The kind that no one had offered them in so long.

“The...” They raised their hand to their neck, curling a finger as far under the metal ring as it would go. “The collar. It’s a collar.”

“A... collar?”

The smile that crept onto their lips was one of sorrow. A sadness so profound that it became funny.

“What did they tell you?” Their self-hug grew tighter.

“What do you mean?”

“About me. How did big, bad villain go from terrorizing the city to, fucking, making television appearances? What was their story?”

“They- I guess they just said you’d seen the error of your ways. That you were a good guy, now.”

That sorrowful smile grew wider.

“I just chose to be good? Is that it?”

“Well, they said they talked to you, there was something about therapy?”

Villain’s smile turned to an audacious laugh.

“Therapy?” They shook their head. “Is that their code word for beating someone into submission?”

“W- What?”

Villain tapped the collar, a hollow noise ringing out.

“Shock collar. 100,000 volts, or something stupid like that. They didn’t fix me. I’m not a good guy. I’m still just as dangerous as I ever was. But now I’m... under control.”

At that, they hung their head.

More gently this time, Journalist again raised their hand to Villain’s neck, placing their finger under the collar. Feeling the burnt flesh.

“You’ve been here- You’ve been in their custody for months.”

“How could I forget?”

“You just... gave up?”

Those words alone were enough to send a pang of nausea through their chest.

“What choice did I have? Anything to make the pain stop. Heroes and Villains... all of them, they’re just as human as anyone else. They feel pain just as much as anyone else. And sometimes, that pain just gets to be too much. Fighting back just isn’t worth it anymore.”

They raised their head, forcing a rehearsed smile back onto their lips.

“But it’s okay. It’s the best way to keep the city safe. Sometimes you have to break a few eggs.”

Journalist’s concern turned to frustration, but whatever words they were about to say were halted by the sound of knocking on the bathroom door.

“Journalist? Are you in there?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re live in ten. We need Villain on the set.”

Their head turned back to Villain, who nodded.

“Okay. We’ll be right out.”

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“Turn your head a little to the right... Raise the chin, little more- Keep going, there! Okay, stop. And look at the camera. Right here, this lens. Sasha, can you go touch up their hair, please?”

Villain struggled not to flinch away from the blindingly bright lights that stared at them in a semi-circle. They sat on a small stool, hands perfectly held together in their lap. Their neck was already cramping from the position they were fighting so hard to maintain.

Stage lights always made the burns on their neck hurt. Hurt worse, that is.

From the bustling area behind the cameras, an assistant appeared, rushing over to Villain and yanking a small, black comb through their already-done hair.

It took all the will they had, and a little more than that, to choke back the tears that desperately wanted to rise in their throat. To scream and shove the stupid, clueless assistant to the ground. So they would stop fucking touching them.

But they didn’t. They sat perfectly still, cheeks aching from their smile.

“We’re live in one!” A screeching voice came from somewhere Villain could not see. The assistant retreated, and the cameraman started up the device that was his namesake.

It was difficult to see behind the blaring lights, but silhouettes that may have been people seemed to be rushing about in a panic, taking position. That shrill voice began to count.

“Thirty...”

“Twenty...”

“Ten...”

‘And we’re live!”

A red light appeared on the camera, and Villain tried not to imagine just how many eyes were on the other side of it. For a terrifying few seconds, they were there, alone, before the world. That was, until footsteps sounded, and someone sat in the chair next to them.

They didn’t dare look. Didn’t dare to turn their head away from the camera, to muss their perfect posture and hair.

“Welcome, everyone, to News at Nine!”

A single bead of sweat formed on their forehead.

They had assumed that Journalist was simply one of the many busybodies that the news crew dragged around with them. Not the reporter.

They could only hope that their gulp couldn’t be seen in the recording.

“As promised, tonight, we have a very special guest. Villain, it’s so good to have you here, tonight.”

“It’s great to be here.”

“Yes. Now, I really wish we could spend some time on niceties, but we have promised our wonderful viewers at home a very special interview, and we wouldn’t want to disappoint, now would we?”

“Of course not.”

“Now, Villain, I’m sure everyone remembers you in your, well, in your villain days. Would you care to explain where you have been since then?”

An expected question. They had a script for this. It flowed from their mouth like water.

“Well, after my capture several months ago, I have been working with and learning from the Heroes of this city. I understand that what I did in my previous occupation was wrong, and since then, I have been working to right the wrongs I have caused. Now, I am an advisor for the Heroes’ Organization. They say to catch a villain, you need to think like one, and, well, I have plenty experience in that field.”

They didn’t take a breath, not the whole time. When they did, after finishing their monologue, it sounded far too much like a sob.

The script was bullshit. They weren’t any kind of advisor. It was a fancy word for prisoner. ‘Advisor’ would imply that they weren’t locked up for 20 or so hours a day, when they weren’t eating or appearing before the cameras. They couldn’t advise the Heroes on anything if they tried. Their very voice was treated as though it was the funniest joke anyone had ever heard.

“And it is your position as an advisor that has led to the events of last night. Is that right?”

“I would say that it played no small part in it, yes.”

What the fuck happened last night?

“That event is what I want to speak to you about today. Our viewers have been very keen to know your thoughts on the matter, so let’s get right into it.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“So, Villain.” Journalist seemed to let their chipper attitude fall in favor of a more relaxed one. “How did you feel, exactly, when you first heard about Supervillain’s death?”

They wanted to throw up.

The Heroes did not allow them access to any outside news, but could they at the very least have said something? Anything?

Anything?

Keep to the script. Keep to the script. Keep to the script.

But they didn’t have one.

They swallowed.

“Um... I- I felt... Uh...”

The collar felt to be tightening around their windpipe.

“It’s okay. Do you need a moment?”

“No, no. I apologize.” Villain shook their head. “It’s just so shocking, to hear it said so plainly, like that. When I first heard the news, I have to say, I felt... conflicted. Certainly, it’s a good thing. But at the same time, I worry about what their absence will mean for the other villains in this city.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I suppose I’m afraid of a power vacuum forming. Or that the other villains will attempt to act out in vengeance, of a sort.”

“That’s understandable. Did you know Supervillain personally, at all?”

Of course they did. Everyone did. Every villain, at least. Their organization was informal, but entirely centered on Supervillain. If a villain was seriously hurt, or worse, Supervillain was there for them.

Some called them mother.

“I wouldn’t say I knew them personally. I met them, a few times, but they were always very distant. Not to mention that they were a bit terrifying.”

Behind the camera, Villain spotted a form appear. One of a very familiar stature, and wearing a very familiar cape.

“I’m sure they were. I’ve never met them in person, but even just on TV... that’s scary in its own right.”

No. It wasn’t. Supervillain wouldn’t hurt a fly. Not unless they were acting in self defense. Hell, they made sure their hostages all got lunch, for gods sake.

Villain nodded.

“It is scary.”

“On that note, do you believe that the city will be safer, now, with Supervillain gone?”

Two more figures. Two more capes.

“I do. Even with the possibility of a power vacuum or avenging attacks, ultimately, this will be a good thing for our city. Anything to keep those at home safe.”

“Of course.” Journalist paused a moment. “I understand that some villains have already made announcements decrying the actions of Hero. Do you believe that they were right in their decision to kill Supervillain?”

Villain gulped.

Behind the camera, Hero joined their comrades. Their gaze pointed directly at their prey, sitting beneath the blazing stage lights.

“No. I don’t believe that Hero was right.”

The words made their mouth feel numb.

“Supervillain was dangerous, yes. But there is a difference between stopping someone from causing harm and ending their life outright. Had it been me, I wouldn’t have committed a murder.”

The cameraman raised his eyebrows.

Even in silhouette, Villain could see Hero clench their fists.

“That’s a very interesting take on the matter, and that seems to be the stance that many others, villain and citizen alike, have been taking. I believe that’s all the questions I have for you, today.”

Journalist’s gaze turned to the camera.

“After a word from our sponsors, the weather! It’s gonna be a scorcher this week, folks. And don’t forget to stick around for the reveal of the new fashion line: Be Your Own Hero. Thanks, everyone!”

The little red light on the camera blinked off. Villain felt about to puke.

Finally, finally, they felt able to move their neck. The cramps were bad enough that doing so hurt terribly, filling their muscles with pins and needles. They stood as the stage lights flicked off, one by one.

Revealing, in full detail, the Heroes.

Most of them looked various degrees of concerned or frustrated. That was, all except Hero themself. Their face was twisted in a horrid mask of pure, unadulterated fury.

Villain felt their legs lock up, as if staying on set would protect them. Already they couldn’t breathe. They wanted to gasp for air, but the collar was crushing them, choking them, and they wanted to cry. Oh god, the tears were already beading in their eyes. They swallowed them, but more threatened to well up, to take their place.

A pressure on their shoulder nearly made them jump. Only their eyes would move, all else locked up, but they could see well enough to locate what was touching them.

Journalist.

Their face a mask of concern. Panic, concern, and worry.

They dropped their hand, stepping back as Hero practically stomped over to Villain. Their face had turned to the brightest smile, but that did nothing to diminish the rage in their eyes.

“Villain, good job on the interview. That must have been a difficult one.”

“A little difficult, yeah.”

“Well, good on you for getting through it. If you wouldn’t mind, let’s go back to my office for a minute. Just to have a little chat.”

Villain paled.

They knew full well that Hero didn’t have an office. What they did have was a sound proofed room with a very specific purpose.

That pressure on Villain’s shoulder returned. Journalist’s hand.

“Well? Are you coming, or not?”

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What should our Whumpee do? It’s up to you to decide!

There are two options, each one leading to a separate story branch. Alongside each option is a question specifying what exactly will happen. Answering this question is completely optional, but it is great if you have any particular ideas! Otherwise, feel free to just put a letter.

To vote, feel free to use any means you would like to contact me. Replying or reblogging this post works just fine, as does PMing me directly or sending me an ask. I am unsure when I will be writing the next part, so as long as the next part hasn’t been posted yet, voting is still open!

I will choose the story path based on which option has more votes, and will choose whichever answer I find the most interesting to base the next part upon.

The choices and questions for this part are as follows:

A) Go with Hero - What should Journalist do?

B) Refuse - How should Villain try to get out of it?

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to contact me. This is my first time doing anything like this, so I apologize if it’s odd or confusing ^^

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #choose your own adventure #choose your own whump #gilded cage #villain whumpee #whump community #hero villain whump #hero villain prompt #whump prompt

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georgeswand · 4 years ago

Text

light that never goes out | george weasley

george weasley x reader

SFW, fluff, slight mentions of death

inspired by the song ‘there is a light that never goes out’ by the smiths

it was a dark, damp night and the stars sparkled brightly behind the thick of the clouds. you were staying at the burrow for the holidays, rooming with ginny and hermione. you were the oldest among them, being a year above hermione and two years above ginny. being the eldest, you decided the younger two should be able to sleep in the bed together. bad idea. the floor was wooden, hard, and cold. although there was a knitted duvet mrs. weasley had made that you lied on, there was still no support and your shoulders ached.

despite the pain, you sucked it up and closed your eyes. you could hear the faint breathing and snores of the two younger ones in the room with you, “at least they’re sleeping well” you thought, feeling a bit envious. after a few minutes of not being able to fall asleep, you opened your eyes and took a deep breath. you couldn’t sleep. with a mix of the cold, rock-hard floor on your back and the long minutes you waited with your eyes closed attempting to fall asleep, you decided to get up and go use the restroom.

you put on an oversized, grey jumper over your white t-shirt and fixed your blue, cotton pyjama bottoms. you took quiet steps towards the door, luckily you wore socks so your feet wouldn’t be directly touching the freezing cold floor. you took hold of the door handle and gently turned it, slowing pushing the door forwards, making sure its hinges wouldn’t squeak. you quietly walked through the doorway and slowly closed the door behind you, gently letting go of the doorknob. a bit more relaxed now that you’ve gotten past the hard part of not waking anyone up, you walked down the stairs to the bathroom doing your best to prevent the floorboards from creaking or yourself from tripping due to the lack of light.

once you reached the door to the bathroom, you noticed a light was beaming from the gap under the door. you sighed and lightly knocked on the door, a voice from the other side whisper-shouted, “i’m in here!”

“george?” you whisper-shouted back through the door, you’ve heard his voice so many times, you knew it had to be him. “no, dearie, this is molly weasley!” a now high-pitched, squeaky voice spoke through the door. he had raised his voice an octave higher to create a poor impersonation of his mother. you smiled to yourself, “i don’t think your mother sounds like that.” you heard him chuckle through the door. you then heard water running for a few seconds and moments later the door opened. george was standing there looking down at you, his shadow casted over you since the lantern in the bathroom was the only source of light.

“are you going to move?” you inquired, feeling a bit awkward under george’s gaze. “what’s the magic word?” george taunted, leaning against the doorframe.

“i dunno, abracadabra? now move out of my way-” you lightly shoved him out of the bathroom and turned around to look at him, he was now standing in the dark hallway. “leave or else i’m going to think you’re listening to me piss,” you jokingly remarked. instead of walking away, he cupped his hand behind his ear, leaning into the door. you scoffed and closed the door, locking it before you went to the toilet. you use the toilet and washed your hands, then adjusted your clothes in the mirror. you looked at the candle in the lantern by the door and extinguished it by pinching the flame with your thumb and pointer finger. though it was dark, the moonlight from a nearby window gave you just enough light to be able to see where you were walking. you opened the door, walking through it, and closing it behind you.

you looked up and down the narrow staircase, no one to be seen, including george. you turned and made your way up the staircase, careful to not make too much noise. you were a few steps from ginny’s bedroom door when someone suddenly whispered behind you, “y/n-”. startled, you jumped and turned around, seeing george’s moonlit face grinning behind you. you gently hit his chest and angrily whispered, “god- george! you scared me, what if i had yelled?” he smiled, struggling to hold back his laughter. “you should’ve seen your face! you looked like you were about to cast a curse onto me-”

“well if you do that again i just may.” you threatened, looking up at him. you ran your fingers through your hair and composed yourself. “what did you want, shouldn’t you be back in your room?” you asked confused.

“well i couldn’t sleep,” he explained, “and fred fell asleep a while ago and ron and harry are playing a game of wizard’s chess which is quite boring-”

“so how does that have anything to do with me” you interrupted. “let me finish,” he continued, “what was i saying? oh- ron and harry are playing wizard’s chess which is boring so i thought we could go somewhere.”

“go somewhere?” you exclaimed bewilderedly. “where would we even go? it’s almost midnight and-”

“and that’s the fun of it! it’s late at night, we’re just a couple of teens breaking a couple rules, what’s the harm in that?” he rhetorically asked, his eyes gleaming with youth. he took both of your hands and waved them around eagerly, hoping you would agree to go out. you never said no to a good adventure, you loved sneaking out at night and letting yourself live a little. it gave you a sense of freedom and an escape from reality.

“fine.” you give in, george exclaimed a little ‘yes!’ in celebration of successfully persuading you, which doesn’t happen often. “we need to be back before the morning though, i don’t want your parents thinking we’re up to something bad. especially since we’re… together.” you said that last part reluctantly, he chuckled. “why are you being weird about saying we’re together? we’ve been together for a few months now.”

“i’m just saying!” you said defensively, “i just don’t want your parents to think we’re up to something weird.”

george shook his head and smiled at you, he took your hand and pulled you down the stairs. you followed behind him down the narrow stairway into the dark, moonlit living room. you and george put on some sneakers before heading outside. george had taken the car keys to his parent’s car and he kept them in one of the pockets of his black sweatpants. you finished tying the laces to your sneakers and stood up, following george outside of the house. you gently closed the front door behind you, following him to the sky blue ford that belonged to his parents which was parked on a dirt driveway. he clicked a button on the car keys which make the car beep and the lights flash momentarily. he opened the door to the driver’s seat as you got in the passenger’s side.

“do you know how to drive?” you asked, the thought hadn’t even come up in your mind until now. you’ve never seen george drive, nor has he ever mentioned doing so. he put the keys into the car and turned on the ignition switch, “of course, dad taught fred and i last year. haven’t really driven since then though, let’s see how much i remember.” he looked over to you and smiled, you watch as he switched the gear into drive and gripped onto the steering wheel.

he pushed his foot into the pedal and the vehicle had started moving, he maneuvered the car out of the driveway and onto the dirt road, driving straight ahead. you looked over at him, his orange hair was long, falling below the base of his neck. he wore a dark red sweater that, surprisingly, looked like his mom didn’t knit. you admired his side profile as he kept his focus on the road.

he had now reached a road which was paved and divided into lanes with white dashed lines. there were no other cars in sight, just you, george, and the road. you kept looking over at him unconsciously, admiring every feature of him. you could slightly see the moles on the right side of his neck which were partially covered by his hair. his nose arched in a way you thought was perfect, his lips were a pale pink and his freckles were so faint but you could still see them in the moonlight.

“i know i’m attractive, y/n, but you don’t have to stare.” george looked over at you as you quickly turned to face the road, blushing. he looked back onto the road, laughing at your reaction. embarrassed, you learned towards the door on the passenger’s side and looked out the window, trying to forget what had happened. from the corner of your eyes you saw george reach over to the car radio, he turned it on and upped the volume just enough the fill the silence. the music sounded fuzzy and cracked here and there since the car was ways away from a radio station and the signal was bad, but you could still make out the words.

“and if a double decker bus crashes into us,

to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.”

george hummed along with the song, his left hand held the steering wheel steady while his right hand was on his thigh, tapping his fingers along with the beat of the song. he looked over to you and reached over the armrest that sat between the driver and passenger’s seat. he took hold of your hand and held it as he drove, you stopped looking over at the passenger’s window and you leaned back in your seat, looking down at your hand. you looked up toward’s the road and gave george’s hand a squeeze.

you two stayed that way as the song on the radio played, the lyrics resonated with you. if you could stay that way with george for the rest of your life, you would. it felt as though time stopped, though the both of you were moving at 60km/h, you felt this moment could have lasted forever, like a photo. this moment was a breath of fresh air, something away from the struggles in life. if you were to die right then and there, at least it would be with george.

“and if a ten ton truck kills the both of us,

to die by your side, well the pleasure, the privilege is mine.”

as the song played, you continued to embrace the moment. you had slightly lowered the windows on both you and george’s side, letting the cool breeze of the winter night rush in, sending shivers down your spine. the stars shone elegantly, witnessing this simple moment being shared between you two. you could hear the song coming to an end, after the final chorus, the song repeated the lyrics:

“there is a light that never goes out,

there is a light that never goes out...”

you hoped that as time went on and as you saw the next morning, or if you two had died right then and there, the light between you two would never go out.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #weasley twins #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fluff #george weasely fanfic #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you

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eberles · 4 years ago

Text

Memories

Jamie Oleksiak

Request: Hello!:) Can you write something (super) sad with Jamie Oleksiak? I don’t have a specific idea in my mind so I’d like to leave it up to you completely if that’s okay 💕

A/N: officially the longest thing i’ve ever written coming in at 5300 words!! based this fic off of The Vow, so it’s sad but not like sad sad. i hope you enjoy it i feel like this is one of my best works so hopefully you guys think so too! 🥰 italics = flashback

Warnings: angst, sad, mentions of car accidents & hospitals

Every Friday you and Jamie had a date night, it was the one night a week the two of you could wind down with each other and you never missed it unless Jamie was on a roadie. This Friday you guys went to your favorite restaurant and saw a movie after, the movie was some stupid romantic comedy and in all it’s cheesy glory it had the two of you laughing all the way to the car after the movie. It was a fairly hot night in Dallas, both you and Jamie wearing shorts and light t-shirts, walking back to the car hand in hand at around 11 PM.

“AC, I need the AC.” you groaned, buckling your seatbelt, not even in the car for a whole minute before complaining about the horrible heat.

“Don’t pressure her, it takes a few minutes.” Jamie spoke, softly patting the steering wheel as if to give the car some comfort after your harsh tone towards “her.” You laughed, putting up your hands in surrender as Jamie buckled his seatbelt and began pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road. It was fairly quiet tonight in Dallas not many cars on the road, so you and Jamie decided to have some fun and sing along to the radio at full blast not having a care in the world. Pulling up to a stop sign, you looked around before turning the music down and undoing your seatbelt, smirking at your husband in the driver's seat.

“You know, i’ve always wanted to get knocked up in a car.” you whispered as seductively as possible, Jamie smiling at you, his eyes going wide once he realized, and you took no time to lean over the center console and press your lips against his. Tonight was supposed to be like every other Friday night, dinner, movie, sex, it sounded simple, but it was truthfully all you wanted and everything you looked forward to during the week. Tonight ended differently than your other Friday night dates, only a few seconds into kissing and there wasn’t anything to stop what happened next. You never predicted for your once blissfully in love moment to be completely ruined within a matter of seconds. You couldn’t have predicted the drunk driver speeding up behind you and shoving your car full force through the intersection. Yet it happened. With your seatbelt undone the collision caused you to go right through the front windshield, your head suffering most of the damages as you landed on the hood unconscious.

Everyone’s life was based on moments and how one decision you make could impact you for the rest of your life, no matter how big or small. Jamie felt that meeting you was one of life’s greatest joys, he knew the second he saw you that you were meant to be, that you were his one true love. Jamie used the one opportunity he was given to talk to you and he knew it would change his life forever.

-4 years ago-

Jamie couldn’t stop staring at the back of your head from a few feet away from you in line at his favorite coffee shop. You paid the barista and said “thank you” before turning around with your drink and walking passed Jamie, stopping at the door briefly to turn and look back at him realizing that he was already looking at you with a small smirk. You gave him a smile and continued out the door and made it the short distance to where your car was parked.

“Ugh!” you groaned, turning around almost bumping into Jamie who came walking up behind you with a small bag in his hand.

“You forgot your bagel.” Jamie smiled, handing you the bag feeling giddy inside that he was given the opportunity to talk to you.

“Thank you, you’d think I would remember my breakfast after spending 20 minutes waiting for it.” you laughed, looking up at his broad figure just now noticing how tall he really is.

“Yea, it’s what i’m here for.” Jamie said, mentally face palming at the corny line he just gave you.

“Um, i’m Y/N.” you reached your hand out to him, and noticed a small blush on his face.

“Jamie.” he shook your hand, both of you laughing awkwardly and pulling away from each other.

“Well, thank you for this.” you said, opening your car door handle.

“You know, um, I noticed that we have the same coffee order.” Jamie mumbled, and you turned back to look at him, a smirk showing on your face.

“Is that so?”

“Yup.” Jamie nodded his head, as if to confirm it and you could already feel the butterflies bubbling in your stomach.

“How intimate.” you giggled, keeping your eyes on his and noticing how the squint when he smiles.

“I was thinking, we should drink our coffees together. You know, to create a bond over our joint tastes...in coffee.” Jamie said, looking down at you and giving his award winning smile. You agreed closing your car door, the two of you walking back into Weekend Coffee together. You grabbed a table while Jamie ordered his coffee and pastry, coming back to the table and telling you he swears by their pastries. It took Jamie all of about 5 minutes to fall in love with you and you with him. The next few months were spent getting to know each other and falling for each other's quirks and habits.

Jamie woke up in the hospital with virtually no injuries having to listen to the doctor explain to him that his wife was in a medically induced coma. He sat by your side as often as he could and made sure to place your wedding band on your finger where it belongs. Jamie replayed the significant moments in your relationship in his head while he sat by you.

“Babe, you can’t keep doing that.” Jamie walked outside to where you were crouched over a grey cat giving him some food to eat.

“I know, but I love him.” you frowned, going back inside his apartment.

“I can’t keep him though, I'm allergic.” Jamie mentioned, and you knew that already, but the poor cat having to stay outside in the heat made your heart ache.

“Do you want some fruit? I bought it this morning.” you pulled the bowl of fresh fruit out of Jamie’s refrigerator and looked at him while he just smiled at you. Jamie, in those moments, confirmed the thoughts he’d been having for a while now. “What?”

“I want you to move in.” Jamie continued looking at you as he flipped the pancakes he was making for breakfast and you gasped.

“Yes!” you put the fruit down on the counter, coming up behind Jamie and pulling him away from the stove to give him a kiss.

Jamie smiled at the memory, and looked over at you with a tear in his eye. You had a tube down your throat connected to a ventilator to help you breathe and he couldn’t get over the sight. He blinked back the tears and put his head in his hands thinking about your wedding.

“I vow to always love you, and always try the new pastry flavors at the cafe, no matter how weird they may be.” you said looking up into Jamie’s eyes, making him and both your friends laugh at your vow to him.

“You wrote your vows on a Weekend Coffee menu?” Jamie asked, noticing the paper in your hand and you smiled shyly holding it up over your face. Jamie held the same menu up with his vows on it and you both laughed in shock. “Okay, I vow to love every bit of you, now and forever. I promise that no matter what gets in our way, we will always find our way back to each other.” Jamie said, promising his love to you in every way as long as you were both alive.

“Do you take each other as man and wife?”

“I do.” Jamie said proudly, a wide smile covering his face.

“I do.” you smiled just as big, letting a happy laugh leave your throat as you said it. The wedding was small, just having Jamie’s bestest friends there who grew to be your friends as well over the years and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

A few days later you started breathing on your own so the doctors removed you from the ventilator and told Jamie you should be waking up soon and you did. The nurse told Jamie to give you some space when you woke up, knowing that you wouldn’t be fully coherent and probably scared.

“Hey.” Jamie whispered from the end of your hospital bed, seeing the eyes he fell in love with finally flutter open. You looked around the room feeling confused and avoiding eye contact with Jamie. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Y/N, it’s okay. You’re in the hospital, you were in a car accident, you suffered from some head injuries, but you’re okay.” the nurse explained in a soothing tone.

“Was anyone else hurt, doctor?” you asked softy, looking directly at Jamie and feeling uncomfortable under his confused gaze.

“What?” Jamie whispered, feeling his voice about to give out. “Y/N, you know who I am right?”

“You’re my doctor.” you stated, and watched as the man in front of you looked at the nurse and back at you before coming to sit in the chair beside you.

“Um, i’m your husband.” Jamie said, reaching for your hand and feeling his heart break when you pulled away from him holding a scared expression on your face. You glanced down at your left hand gasping when you noticed the wedding ring. Jamie walked out of your hospital room with the nurse feeling frustrated as she explained how brain injuries were hard to diagnose because of how unpredictable the brain is.

“She doesn’t remember me!” Jamie said frustratedly, pulling at the ends of his hair.

“The swelling in the brain can cause confusion and memory loss sometimes, but it’s normal.” the nurse explained, watching Jamie walk down the hallway of the hospital with tears in his eyes.

Jamie went home to pack a bag for you and came back to the hospital later that night. He fell asleep laying on a few of the chairs in the waiting room and was woken up by you tapping his shoulder lightly.

“Hi.” Jamie said sitting up, his voice gravely from the short slumber he was in.

“What are you doing?” you asked, wrapping your hospital robe tighter around your body.

“Sleeping.” Jamie yawned, and you smiled awkwardly before nodding your head. Jamie grabbed the bag he packed for you and moved it closer to you. “I brought you some clothes.”

“Thanks.” you spoke, sitting on one of the chairs next to him. “I’m hungry.”

“Okay.” Jamie laughed, grabbing your bag and walking with you to the hospital cafeteria. Jamie explained to you that you were a painter and had your own studio and you were shocked to find out you didn’t follow through with going to med school.

“I remember being in med school and...being engaged to Samuel.” you said, noticing how Jamie put his head down a little. “I just, I don’t know.” you got up from your seat in the cafeteria heading up the stairs hearing Jamie run after you.

“Babe, babe, just wait!” Jamie called after you and you tensed hearing the pet name he used, but stopped on the stairs turning to look at him.

“The best thing you can do is to go back to your life, with me. You heard what the doctor said.” Jamie said, putting emphasis on the word “best.”

“But I don’t know you. So what? I’m just supposed to go back to a stranger's place.”

“It’s our place.”

“There’s no proof of our love? A journal?” you asked, feeling helpless. Of course, you wanted to believe Jamie was your husband for the right reasons and that you were in love with him, but it was so hard for you.

The next day you got ready to leave with your parents not feeling like going home with Jamie was even an option at this point.

“Wait hold on, I have a letter you sent when I was away.” Jamie ran into your room, holding up his phone. “You said you wanted proof.”

Hey baby,

I’m at the studio right now and I miss you so bad these paintings are starting to look like you. I’m sending you a letter because I thought it would be a fun surprise for you on your roadie. I hope it actually makes it to you. Anyways, I love you and I can’t wait to see you when you come home next week.

Love you always,

Y/N

“Just think about it, you quit med school, you pursued being an artist, you moved to Dallas. These are all things you did way before meeting me, you know it to yourself to at least experience the life you set up for yourself.” Jamie said, grabbing onto your hands and pouring his heart into those few sentences. “Come home with me.”

“I guess I could try it out, to see if it will help my memory. If it doesn’t work out, i’ll come home.” you turned to look at your parents as you spoke and your parents understood. They loved Jamie and just wanted the best for you. You drove home with Jamie taking everything from Dallas in on your ride from the hospital. You spent the night looking around your shared apartment at the pictures and smelling the perfumes you had on your vanity. Nothing felt familiar when you went to sleep alone, Jamie sleeping on the living room couch.

When you woke up you took a shower and came out disturbed to find out you had a tattoo of a bird on your shoulder, and changed into an oversized sweatshirt before going into the kitchen area where Jamie was.

“You look nice.” Jamie said, smirking slightly, taking in your interesting clothing choices.

“Really? This is the only thing of mine I feel comfortable in.” you said, hugging the material around your body awkwardly.

“That’s mine actually.” Jamie laughed, pointing to the Stars logo on the front and you laughed while apologizing and he assured you it was okay that you wear it. Jamie went to practice and you managed to find the video of your wedding chuckling at your corny vows and tears up at Jamie’s. You noticed the name of the cafe on the menus and decided to go there for the afternoon.

The next few weeks went by as seamlessly as they could when you’re suffering from amnesia. You and Jamie made small talk in the mornings and at night before retreating to your own beds. Nothing felt normal for you, but you were trying everyday to discover new things around the apartment that might jog your memory while Jamie was at practice. Today you were feeling curious about your old life and Samuel and how things ended between the two of you when you remember being so blissfully in love with him. You called your mom and asked where he worked so you could visit him and although she was hesitant on telling you she eventually gave you the information. You took a short bus ride to locate his office building that he worked at and asked the receptionist to show you where his office is.

“Hi.” you said walking into his office, smiling widely when he turned to look at you and you realized he hadn’t changed a bit.

“Y/N.” Samuel said, shocked to see you standing in his office after no many years apart. You explained to him what happened with the car accident and how the last thing you remember is being with him.

“Can you please explain what happened with us?” you asked, shifting in your seat across from him in his office.

“Only you would dump a guy and then come back and ask for answers.” Samuel said, fidgeting with the pen on his desk. “A cruel, pre wedding dumping.”

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused not fathoming why you would call off your wedding to the guy sitting in front of you.

“You just changed. You weren’t sure about med school anymore, and you really weren’t sure about me.” Samuel explained. “It’s okay though, i’ve been with Rose for about a year now.”

“Right.” you shook your head slightly disappointed that the guy you last remember loving had moved on from you.

“I couldn’t wait forever, Y/N.” you nodded your head agreeing with him and stood up to leave.

“I’ll let you get back to work.” you said, both of you going in for a hug, something you hadn’t felt in ages. Feeling Samuel’s arms wrap around your waist made you pull back to look at him before leaning in to kiss him with your hands cupping his cheeks. “I’m sorry.” you said, pulling away and walking out the door.

The next day you woke up ready to explore a different part of your new life that you hadn’t yet understood. The artist side. The last time you wanted to be an artist you were in high school so owning your own studio and actually selling paintings to people was one of the biggest things you had to wrap your mind around.

“I’m ready to see the studio.” you said at breakfast with Jamie, hoping he would take you there and show you around.

“Yea? Alright! We’ll go after this.” Jamie said excitedly, ready to show you a huge part of who you were. It was a short walk from your apartment so after breakfast the two of you went there and Jamie unlocked the doors for you.

“This is it.” he said, opening the door and letting you inside first to take everything in. “It’s cool right?”

“Wow.” you said slowly walking around the room, looking at all of your art supplies and paintings all over the room.

“You used to come in here and blast the music and get so lost in your art.” Jamie explained, watching you look around at everything, stopping to touch a few of the pieces you had on the walls. Jamie handed you a paintbrush when you stopped in front of your latest unfinished piece and you hesitated before taking it. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t really know what i’m doing.” you felt panicked and insecure in those moments, with Jamie watching over you knowing he wanted nothing more than to know you still remember how to make art.

“Hold on.” Jamie said, running over to the stereo you had in the corner of the room and turning it up loudly before walking back to you with a big smile on his face. “Just try it.”

“Can you just turn the music down please?” you asked, voice shaky feeling anxiety erupt in your stomach and spread all over your body.

“I swear you used to listen to it way louder than this-”

“I have a clinically bad fucking headache! Please turn it down!” you threw the paintbrush, yelling over the music at Jamie and rubbing your temples. Jamie turned off the music, feeling anger bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want to blow up on you, but he wanted you to realize it was hard for him too.

“I’m trying to help you! We don’t speak to each other like this, Y/N. This is difficult for me too.” Jamie explained, before turning around and walking out of your studio. After he left you spent some more time looking around before going back to your apartment. Jamie went for a walk and stopped at your favorite takeout place before returning home to you.

“Y/N?” Jamie called out, not seeing you in the living room.

“I’m in here.” you responded, and Jamie walked into your bedroom seeing you packing a bag. “My sister is getting married soon and I just feel like I should be there for her. She has an engagement party coming up so I want to help her with that.”

“Okay, but what about your life here?” Jamie asked, watching you walk around your room grabbing more things to pack away.

“I don’t know, I just- I can’t do it.” you said. “I’m sorry, it’s just going to be until after the wedding.”

You invited Jamie to your sister’s engagement party, per your family's request, and against your sisters. Your sister never minded Jamie, but she always preferred you with Samuel, since she was the reason you guys had met in the first place. Your parents insisted on Jamie being a part of this event, not as your date, but just so he could feel welcome in this aspect of your life since it was new for all of you.

“Y/N!” Jamie said, spotting you once he entered the backyard to where the party was happening.

“Jamie! You made it!” you said, walking over to him and noticing his suit. “You look nice.”

“I was thinking that we should try a new method. We should start from the beginning, and I would like to take you on a date.”

“A date?” you asked, feeling uneasy at his question when you looked behind him briefly noticing Samuel. “I don’t know, the weddings coming up-”

“But if we go before that, you could still take me as your date.” Jamie said, smirking. Suddenly feeling smooth and confident with his choice of words.

“Okay. A date.” you nodded your head in agreement, smiling widely up at Jamie before both of your attentions got turned to some toasts being made.

A few days later and Jamie was getting ready for his date with you. He picked you up at your sister’s house, just outside of Dallas.

“Where are we going?” you asked curiously, noticing that Jamie was driving back into the city.

“It’s a surprise.” Jamie said, and not long after you made it to your first destination which was parked on the side of the road, you knew it looked familiar from the day you explored on your own, but you couldn’t pinpoint it. “This is the exact spot where we first met. I’m gonna take you down memory lane.”

You guys got out of the car and headed into Weekend Coffee where Jamie brought you to the table you first sat at together and left to go up and get you the same order you both had that day.

“This is my favorite pastry of all time and the day we met I forced you to try it.” Jamie said, sliding the pastry over to you for you to try. You took a small bite and moaned in satisfaction making both of you laugh at your reaction.

“It’s amazing!” you took another bite, and listened as Jamie explained to you how you always order that pastry and whatever new flavor they have that time and split them. The next stop on Jamie’s list was the rink where the Stars practice and also where he taught you how to skate very quickly into your relationship.

“What do you think?” Jamie asked, handing you a sweatshirt to wear while you're inside the rink.

“Um, I can’t skate. I’ll eat ice.” you said, shaking your head and Jamie laughed throwing his head back.

“I got you, don’t worry.” Jamie said, finishing the laces on his skates before kneeling down to help you tie yours the proper way for them to be secure on your feet. Jamie stood up on his skates and walked towards the opening of the rink before turning to look at you. You nodded slowly wobbling behind him, and watching as he expertly took his place on the ice.

“Hold my hand.” you shrieked, holding both your hands out for him to take. Jamie grabbed a hold of your hands and led you onto the ice, but he quickly moved his hands to your waist to help stabilize you.

After a little while of him holding you tightly, you hadn’t realized when he started pulling away from you and you were skating on your own. You gasped realizing he was watching you from about a foot away and that caused you to lose your balance. You felt your skates come up from under you and you closed your eyes bracing yourself for the fall, but it never came jamie saving the fall, holding you in his arms.

“Oh my god! I thought I was gonna die!” you yelped, and looked up at Jamie seeing him smiling down at you.

“I think you learned even quicker this time around.” Jamie smirked, standing you up straight on your skates. The two of you wrapped up the lesson and made your way back out to his car.

“Kiss me.” you said to Jamie once both of you were in the car. Jamie looked at you with wide eyes and you were already smiling confidently at him.

“Are you sure?” Jamie asked, already starting to lean into you and you nodded your head yes before pulling him in by the back of the neck. Jamie put everything he had in that kiss and you could feel all his emotions pouring into it.

“This is nice.” you said, pulling away with a smile on your lips. Jamie nodded, leaning in to kiss you again, finally letting himself feel safe in your embrace because for the first time in months he felt close to you again. You pulled apart both of you breathing heavy and your faces flushed and Jamie drove you back to your sisters house and of course, walked you to the door like a gentleman.

“I miss you. I miss us. I love you.” Jamie said, and you gave him a sad smile before looking around to avoid meeting his gaze.

“I should get inside. Goodnight Jamie.” you walked into the house, giving him a small smile before closing the door. When you walked inside your sister was sitting on the couch watching tv and waiting for you.

“Hey! Were you out with Samuel?” your sister asked excited.

“No, I was with Jamie. I like him.” you smiled, trying to fight off the tears beginning to pool in your eyes, but that didn’t help and they came rushing down your face.

A few days later and it was your sister's wedding, you didn’t bring Jamie as your date knowing that it wouldn’t be fair to him to give him that kind of hope. Jamie kept his distance with you, not wanting to overwhelm you with his presence at the reception.

“Hey, you want me to introduce you to people. Can’t feel good to be the one left out.” Samuel said, coming over to where Jamie was standing at the bar.

“I’m not the one left out.” Jamie said confidently.

“If you say so. You just seem weird over here all by yourself.” Samuel laughed, getting his drink from the bartender.

“I’m just waiting for Y/N.” Jamie said, slight irritation in his tone of voice

“Good luck with that.” Samuel said, starting to walk away from the bar.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Jamie asked, before Samuel could get too far away. “Y/N leaves you, has a whole life without you with some new guy that's different and now you get to watch her reject all of that.”

“I like it a little bit, I guess.” Samuel smirked, a condescending chuckle falling from his lips.

“You wanna know what I like? I like that Y/N told me everything about you, that when she was with you she’d wake up at night panicking thinking, ‘is this all there is?’” Jamie said, taking a sip from his drink.

“She told you everything?” Samuel asked, a smile on his face. “Did she tell you that she kissed me a few weeks ago?”

“Look, you obviously love her and think that you're gonna get her back, but she outgrew you. It’ll probably happen again, man.” Jamie said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, i’ll be sure to think about that when i’m in bed with your wife.” Samuel said, and that was the final straw for Jamie as he threw a punch to his face knocking Samuel to the ground.

“Jamie!” you yelled, running over and seeing Samuel on the ground. Jamie turned to look at you and ran after you.

“What was that?” you felt Jamie coming up behind you so you stopped short turning around once you were out of earshot from everyone.

“I’ve been driving myself crazy trying everything possible to save us and you’ve been kissing Samuel?” Jamie said, frustration hitting him like a brick.

“That’s not fair!” you said, looking up at Jamie.

“No? I see the way you look at him, it’s the same way you used to look at me.” Jamie whispered, looking at the ground and back up at you. “Your memory’s not coming back. I’m a stranger.”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to hurt you Jamie. I’m so tired of disappointing you.” you let the tears fall down your face freely.

“I know. How do you look at the girl you love and tell yourself it’s time to leave?”Jamie asked, before turning and walking away from you.

9 Months Later

You were finally getting around to unpack your things from Jamie’s apartment. You hadn’t realized the last box was holding something very near and dear to your heart. It was your wedding vows, the ones written on Weekend Coffee menus.

“I vow to help you love life, to always hold you with tenderness, and to have the patients that love demands.” you read the menu outloud, feeling a pang in your chest and your breath hitch in your throat. You decided to take a ride to the small cafe where everything started, upon arriving you saw Jamie outside the doors reading the “closed” sign on the glass. Jamie turned, walking away from the door and doing a double take as he saw you approaching and stopped in his tracks.

“Hi.” Jamie said, walking closer to meet you halfway on the sidewalk.

“Hi.” you responded, both of you stopping in front of each other.

“I hope you didn’t come all the way to the city for a pastry.” Jamie said, turning to look back at the sign.

“Actually, I moved back here six months ago.” you said, smiling up at Jamie.

“Really? That’s great.”

“I’ve actually started to paint again.”

“That’s amazing!”

“It’s crazy what my hands remember, that my mind forgot you know?” you said, gesturing to your head as you spoke. “So, thank you.”

“Wasn’t me.” Jamie said, shaking his head noticing the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Yes it was. You did everything. You never wanted anything but the best for me.” you said, reassuring Jamie, wiping the tears that started to fall down your face.

“I just wanted you to be happy.” Jamie confirmed.

“Isn’t there somewhere we used to go when this place closed?” you asked, smirking at Jamie hoping he’s getting the hint that you want to go out with him.

“Yea, let’s go.” Jamie said, both of you walking the same direction. Jamie smiling down at you when you reached for his hand.

You never regained your memory, but the love between you and Jamie was true, it was real and raw and able to be felt no matter what forces were between you. It was a love that anyone could feel being in the same room as you, it was kind, patient, and honest.

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taglist: @sortagaysortahigh @sweeterthansammy @butgilinsky @kiedhara @taiter-tots @jjmaybanksbaby @jamiedrysdales @ana-maa @iamtheblondestblonde @elitebarzal @softboybarzal @himbos-on-ice @bestestbenn @dreamypeaches @mycaptaintazer @dunnerbarzal @matbarzall @sidscrosbyy @calgarycanuck @celestialblae @jackiesquinn

#jamie oleksiak #jamie oleksiak imagine #dallas stars #nhl writing

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lunarmessenger · 4 years ago

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Hard Regrets - 707 x MC (Part 2)

Part 2 to that little short that a precious anon had requested! I said I’d post after new years but my depression has me weirdly inspired JGELHGEH probably because this is a negative situation ^^;; pls enjoy getting your heart broken hahahaaaaa - luna

warnings: angst, depictions of graphic injuries

word count: 1.6k

(pt. 1) (pt. 3) (pt.4)

He woke up in a cold sweat, chest heaving as he gasped and grabbed on to his black sheets. His brows furrowed as he sat up, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he took deep breaths. The image of the wind howling, rain pounding against the asphalt as the blue and red lights flashed. The image of MC being put onto a stretcher, her limbs mangled and face matted with blood as she remained still.

“Snap out of it, Zen.” He mumbled, throwing the sheets off of himself as he ran a hand through his silver hair. Nimble fingers gripped his knees for a second as he tried to remember what he saw, the fear and panic still trying to leave his body. Deep down he knew that he couldn’t just “shake this off”. It was one of his prophetic dreams; he just knew it.

“She was right by the theater; why would she be there?” He sighed as he stood and walked over to his kitchen, grabbing a beer out of the fridge as he sniffed. Thankfully he didn’t have rehearsal tomorrow, and he deserved a drink after seeing MC like that. He opened the can with a resounding snap as he picked up his phone, opening the familiar app to reach MC. He knew that she’d been having a rather rough time; that jerk Jumin had assigned Saeyoung yet another project.

His red eyes darkened as the memory of what happened last time Saeyoung was assigned a project by Jumin; MC had shown up in tears because her own boyfriend had yelled at her for interrupting his work. He knew that Saeyoung worked hard, and that he needed all of his focus to do his projects; but that didn’t give him a free pass to treat his girlfriend the way he did.

“Ha...I don’t understand how she’s still with him.” He grumbled, taking a sip of his beer as he tapped on MC’s contact. He sent her a private message, sure that she would be up at this hour as usual. She couldn’t sleep unless Saeyoung was with her, and lately she would call to listen to his voice just to get a couple hours of sleep. The thought of it made him smile; he would treat her so much better if given the chance. A few minutes passed by and he hadn’t heard a response from her yet, his brows furrowing as he decided to call her.

The tone rang over and over until it went to voicemail, her familiar voice cheery as she told whoever had called to leave a message. His heart sank at the realization of why she might not have answered his phone, knocking his beer off the table as he rushed back to his bedroom. He grabbed a pair of jeans and shoved them on, shrugging on a T-shirt and his leather jacket and his boots before grabbing his motorcycle keys.

“No, no no,” He hurriedly ran out the door and cursed at the rain; no way he could ride in weather like this. “The theater. She was by the theater!” Within seconds he was sprinting, boots splashing in the different puddles as his hair became matted to his face.

“Please just be a dream, please just be a dream...!” His eyes became cloudy as he saw the blue and red flashing lights, a drunken man being placed into the back of a police car as he shouted that he didn’t mean to do it. His gaze switched over to the paramedics that were on the street and immediately he felt his entire world come crashing down. There she was; just like in his dream. Her long hair was spread out around her, gray cardigan stained dark with her own blood.

Her feet were bare and bruised, one of her bones from her right leg sticking out of her skin and gushing blood. Her face was covered in small cuts, glass surrounding her as she remained unconscious. He staggered towards her, the closer he came the worse her injuries were. His eyes widened when he saw the large piece of glass that was lodged underneath her rib, the bandages that the paramedics had placed already soaked and needing to be changed as they moved her to a stretcher.

That’s when it’d really hit him.

“MC! MC!” He shoved through the onlookers, even pushing away a police officer that tried to keep him away from the scene.

“Get off of me! That’s my girlfriend! She’s my girlfriend!” He screamed, the veins in his neck bulging as the officers looked at him. His lie worked as they let him through, running to the paramedics and begging them to let him ride in the ambulance. They obliged, allowing him inside as they continued to patch her up as best as they could.

“She’s going to need surgery,” One of them mumbled as they gently swiped alcohol across her face. Zen wasn’t even paying attention, his eyes focusing on her motionless body. She didn’t even look like her; bruising all across her face and body as they’d ripped open her shirt. He switched his gaze to her face out of respect of her; she looked horrible. He hadn’t even realized that he was crying until one of the paramedics asked if he had been part of the accident.

He barely shook his head; he couldn’t even come up with a small lie to tell on why she’d been out in the rain by herself. He was in complete shock, his hands shaking as he tried to wrap his head around it. This wasn’t a dream. It actually happened. His fingers twitched as they reached for her still hand, Zen clearing his throat as he looked at one of the paramedics checking her vitals.

“Can I...?” He was given approval, easily sliding his warm hand over hers. She was cold, and that was enough to send him over the edge as his body was racked with sobs.

“Please MC...Please be okay. You have to be okay.”

He’d been at the hospital for over four hours, running his hands over his face as he nervously tapped his foot against the linoleum floors. He was all to familiar with the smell of the chemicals, the too clean look of the place. After all, this was the same hospital he had been in when V had saved him. The cleanliness of the place and cheerful posters didn’t mean a damn thing to him; people died here.

And he was scared that MC was going to be one of those people.

After sitting for another hour he’d grown restless, pacing endlessly between the few chairs around him. Finally a doctor had started walking towards him from one of the halls, Zen quickly meeting her halfway as he clasped his hands together.

“Well? Is she okay? Please tell me she’s okay—”

“She’s just fine. We had a couple of scares while working on her, but she pulled through. But I must warn you; the glass punctured one of her lungs and it collapsed. She lost a little too much oxygen to her brain and...Mr. Ryu. She’s in a coma. We don’t know when she’s going to wake up.” He brought a hand up to his hair, his eyes stinging with tears once more as he shook his head.

“But...but she is going to wake up? Right?” The surgeon nodded.

“Yes, she is. We just...we don’t know when.” Zen sank into one of the nearby chairs, sticking his head between his knees as the surgeon sat beside him.

“I usually don’t allow this but...seeing as she is your girlfriend. It may help that you see her. Try talking to her. It could coax her to wake up sooner. Visiting hours are long over, but I’ll give you an hour.” He quickly looked up as he nodded, following her to one of the patient rooms. She stopped at the door, allowing him inside.

He immediately walked through the curtain, a small gasp escaping as he choked from the sudden inhalation. A bandage was wrapped around her head, the bruising on her face having gone from yellow to a deep purple as she lay silent. Her leg was propped up and wrapped in a cast, her arms limp beside her as she slept.

“Oh, oh God...” He stammered, reaching out to touch her. He stopped; he felt that she was just too fragile. Like if he’d made the wrong move she would fall off the ledge that she was already on the edge of. He instead brought one of the chairs over, sitting down and placing his elbows on his thighs as he leaned forward. His eyes wandered each injury, and they widened when he noticed some cooling patches placed on reddened parts of her skin.

“Were you burned...?” He leaned forward even more, and he noticed that one of the bruises on her arm faintly outlined a hand.

Saeyoung’s hand.

Rage instantly filled his blood as he brought out his phone, pulling up his contact and ready to tell him to come to the hospital so he could beat him until he was in just as bad shape as MC.

But then he stopped.

He looked at MC one more time; he didn’t know what Saeyoung did this time, but it was enough to send her running in the rain instead of enduring it at home. He didn’t want him to come, he didn’t want MC to see the man who’d caused her to run off in the first place. But...he is her boyfriend. Zen would want to know if she were his girlfriend. Should he tell him? He looked at his phone, then MC, then his phone one more time.

He put it back into his pocket.

#zen #hyun ryu #mystic messenger #707 #mc x 707 #mystic messenger short #saeyoung #saeyoung choi #luciel #luciel choi #lunarmessenger #my writing #oUCH #grey's anatomy has helped me with the hospital scenes #i've been watching it non stop with my fiancee LMFOAGJEH #but this hurt me to write FUK!#i hope you all enjoy #i love youuuuu #707short

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echo-three-one · 4 years ago

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Whatever It Takes

Alex thinks Maxine is with Roach, this means Samantha is nearby. Join us as the Alpha Team and Bravo Team breach the last safehouse in the hopes that Samantha is inside.

But is she though?

Previous Chapter : Roach - Run Through the Jungle

Chapter 4 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"Déjà vu"

"Alex"

Task Force 141

Germany

Short Blonde Hair. If intel was correct then Maxine was with her. This means he's really close to Samantha and he could feel his excitement burst out as they creeped closer to the house. It was a simple white house with a brown roof with windows on all sides, the door was facing them but it was sealed shut based on his assessment. He turned his gaze toward France, he could see her fingers tremble and he can't help but wonder why in the world did she know Maxine. Maybe she's her…

"This is Kilo One-One. We have detected multiple armed tangos going to your position. It looked like they were restocking supplies and headed your way. Be quick though, it looks like they're already suspicious about this bird." the pilot reported over comms. The team needed to hurry before they lose their chance at saving Samantha.

Let's do this, he said to himself as Alex turned to France, Royce and Meat, his Alpha team, and gestured them to slowly surround the building. He nodded to Price as the Bravo Team consisting of Price, Soap, Rocket and Lazer positioned themselves around the other side.

Alex's heart thumped as he shot the door knob safely and kicked it open. What he saw was an unconscious girl tied on a chair, tears were falling from her eyes. She looked thinner than that of the photo, and her skin was almost pale. They haven't been feeding her because she isn't awake since they got her.

Alex quickly slung his rifle and dashed beside her, checking her vitals and used his knife to cut her away from the chair. The rest of the team entered and checked around for intel. Price stood by Alex and summoned a flight home.

"Ghost, Roach. Proceed to the LZed as planned. Our job here is done." He muttered over the comms. Both soldiers agreed but Roach added that he was kind of lost and will wait for the aircraft to arrive so he could use it as a guide.

"Bravo Six to Kilo One One we're ready for extraction in five. Over."

"No can do. Bravo Six. Our Primary LZed is swarming with hostiles. I may have to retreat to our secondary." he replied.

"Bollocks!" Price cursed and instructed everyone to exit immediately.

"Multiple Tangos by the trees! They're firing at us!" Soap roared after peeking at the broken door. Alex held on to Samantha tight. He couldn't let their mission end like this.

"We don't have air support so we're going to have to push through them." The captain commanded.

"Throw smokes around the house so we can position ourselves." he added and everyone nodded.

"Alex. We'll cover you. The best option for you is to retreat south to Ghost's position with Samantha." Price instructed the former CIA agent. The rest of the team did as ordered and exited the building one by one.

Alex ran and looked back, everyone was still acounted for. The radio chatter was filled with location tags of tangos.

He saw Ghost shine a reflective light by the bushes. He almost couldn't see him through the ghillie suit.

"That's Samantha?" Ghost asked.

"Yeah." Alex replied and set her beside them, grabbed Gary's spotter equipment and began scanning the area.

"Echo Three One to Bravo Six. I'm reunited with Ghost and ready to provide assistance to sniper support. What's your sitrep? Over."

"Bravo Six here. Good to hear you made it. There are RPGs on the North Northeast of the Safehouse and they're putting pressure on our formation." Price replied, sounding a little bit stressed.

"Got it."

"Adjust to 11 degrees." he suggested. Ghost's knob clicked softly and he took a deep breath firing the trigger.

"That's a headshot on RPG number 1. Number 2 is just a few degrees left." Alex commented and Ghost pulled the trigger once again, hitting the grenadier on the chest.

"Good hit Good hit."

"Ghost, Roach, Alex. This is Soap. I'm seeing multiple squads heading to your position to flank." MacTavish reminded them, heavy gunfire filled the background.

"Let's swap weapons. I want these tangos to stay the fuck away from us." Ghost requested and Alex quickly obliged, slinging the sniper and carrying Samantha.

"Let's meet up with Roach. I'm pretty sure he's already met our friends." Ghost said as he lead the way, covering the CIA and the HVI.

Gunshots were fired across the distance, signaling Roach's presence. Alex turned to Ghost and nodded walking to the direction of the fire. Plowing over thick leaves and marching across the muddy tracks, they found themselves in a clearing where Roach hid behind the huge rock with an unconscious Maxine beside him. Alex quickly lifted the sniper and began assisting Roach from behind the tree. Ghost rushed to Roach's aid fending off the hostiles shooting at them. A few moments later they found themselves in a moment of stillness.

"Soap, what's the sitrep over there?" Ghost asked.

"We've retreated back to the house and are taking heavy fire. Looks like these bastards don't know how to give up!" He yelled.

"If you can find time, we really need your gunfire right now!" Price added.

"Bollocks. That's my last grenade!" he muttered before cutting off his line.

"We better get going." Alex commanded and Ghost led the way. He was the only one not carrying any load so he's securing the path for the two of them.

"Holy Shit." Ghost whistled as they saw the situation. The whole squad was hiding behind the house while it was slowly being chipped away by explosives. They only shot those brave enough to encircle them and were smartly conserving their bullets.

"Let's clean this street." Ghost said as he dashed to the house firung with his grenade launcher attachment, it had 10 rounds and he used it at certain clusters of enemies. Hostiles flew as the blast exploded beneath their feet, oddly enough it wasn't one of the recommended loadouts but Ghost forced Roach to bring one in case they needed to chip off a wall for sniper support. It was a great idea. Alex and Roach followed behind him, carrying the hostages on their backs and made their way to the Alpha Team and Bravo Team's Location, placing both hostages in an area protected by the squad.

"This is Kilo One One. If you don't get rid of the SAM Turrets we cannot call a VTOL. And I'm running low on fuel!" he complained over the radio.

"Guess we'll have to plant a c4 on it. Soap, take France with you and run toward the SAM turret. Alex and I will provide support from behind. The rest of you, continue protecting our hostages and hold this position. Once the VTOL is out we're going to be home safely." He ordered and everyone nodded, proceeding to their positions.

"You ready to go lass?" Soap asked France who nodded without looking at him. Alex could tell that something is already bothering her ever since Roach rescued Maxine. But she still looked determined and tried to focus on the mission, but deep inside she was actually worried He knew that feeling as he was feeling the same way about Samantha.

Alex tapped her back. "You better go. You can do this. We're right behind you" he yelled. The duo nodded and readied their rifles.

"Go! Go! Go!" Price yelled and started opening fire against the rows of enemies that were targeting them. Alex sniped the farthest threats who were protecting the SAM Turret, their bodies twitched the moment the bullet hit them as they slowly dropped on the floor.

This gave way for the duo to sprint faster covering each other's backs. They made their way to the turret and Soap placed the charge.

"Charge is good to go." Soap muttered and ran back to them. The events were too quick and Alex was too late to notice it but an RPG flew across them and blasted on their side, the explosion knocked them back away from the group as they both rolled downhill.

"Soaap! Fraance!" Price roared as Alex shot the rocketman square in the head. The allied VTOL immediately assisted the squad, raining grenade shells across enemy forces, forcing some of them to retreat, making way for Kilo One One to safely land. Alex quickly rushed to Soap's side while Price went to France. Ghost and Roach took care of the hostages while the others helped each other to extraction.

"Soap. Soap… come on. Let's go home." Alex pleaded, softly slapping his cheek.

He groaned and reached for his head, rubbing the short hairs growing on the sides of his mohawk. He didn't have any bruises but he reported that he might have broken a bone. Alex turned to France who was already on her way to the bird, Price was assisting her, putting pressure on her grazed forehead. Alex assisted Soap as he limped toward the aircraft as huge gusts of wind blew across them.

The ride home was awfully quiet. Ghost was nodding his head to some tunes. Roach sat beside Alex while making sounds by tapping his metal leg, Price stared outside the open sky. The hostages were at the stretchers being assisted by medics along with Soap and France who were the only ones whi sustained major injuries from the mission. For Alex, it was a success, but it could've gone better. If they were to arrive and begin earlier, they shouldn't be having this kind of results right now. They won this mission but they're sure Nero is going to be one more step ahead.

After mission briefings were the worst. The team had to suck up their mistakes and it brought everyone involved down. It was unfair but as the famous saying goes, All is fair in love and war. And speaking of love… Alex paced quickly to the infirmary, where the four of them lied in adjacent beds, all of them still either asleep and unconscious. He looked at Samantha by the window. He couldn't help but feel pity and sadness at her situation. It wasn't fair, it's as if all her efforts to remove him from her life we're useless. So much that he wished he convinced her to keep her memories and run away with him.

"Ya think they're going to be fine?" Roach asked, startling Alex.

"Yeah. They're a tough bunch. Have faith in them." Alex muttered, he almost felt like he lied to Roach as he was also unsure of their situation, but at times like these, it's always better to have a positive approach.

Next Chapter : Reunited

#codmw #horRAYfic #Alex #alex echo 3 1 #john price #john soap mactavish #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley

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iamkidfish · 4 years ago

Note

Would you be at all interested in writing a prompt based off a quote? I've been reading On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous and got destroyed by the line "sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined". I feel like it's a line that works for both Leah and Fatin, and I would love to read your interpretation of it!

have a little angst this morning

Read on ao3!

It shouldn’t be a big deal. 50 days on the island. 50 days of fighting for their lives against the elements, against each other, against themselves.

It shouldn’t be a big deal, except it is.

50 days pass for eight girls barely surviving on an island when there should be nine.

There’s a choked sob, like someone is trying to muffle the sound, and then another and Leah wakes to the sound of Fatin crying. It surprises her more than it should, Fatin crying. She hasn’t seen Fatin cry, not at school, not on the first day, not when Fatin held Leah in her arms on the beach, not even after Nora pulled Rachel’s unconscious body from the ocean, her bloodied arm looking like it got sent through a wood chipper.

She turns over, trying to look for Fatin’s body by the shine of the moonlight. As the weeks went by, they all started sleeping closer and closer together, kind of like a group of seals on a dock, so it’s impossible to discern Fatin from the others. Shelby’s blonde hair catches Leah’s eye and she focuses in, noticing how Shelby’s left hand is gently curled around the inside of Toni’s elbow. Leah smiles, in spite of herself.

Past Shelby, Martha and Dot are curled together, with Dot lying on her back, mouth open, and Martha tucked into her side. Near them, Nora and Rachel are wrapped up so tightly Leah can’t really determine who’s body is who’s. They’ve slept like that ever since the accident and every time Leah looks at Rachel her eyes can’t help but slide down her arm to what’s left of her wrist. It’s mostly a mangled stump, but considering the limited supplies, it looks at least stable. Rachel’s been highly medicated most everyday and every few hours Dot pours their quickly depleting supply of vodka on it.

A noise behind her makes Leah turn around. She maneuvers around their campsite, the best she can in the dark, stepping over water bottles, pieces of driftwood, even Martha’s suitcase, before she reaches Fatin.

She’s curled tightly, more like a ball than the fetal position, and away from Leah so she can’t see her face. It’s not particularly cold out, but Fatin’s shaking.

Leah drops to her knees, hands hovering over Fatin’s side, unsure if she can touch, then switches direction to lie behind Fatin. She tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, the ones that have been there since around day 29, as they try to flutter awake. For a second, Leah pauses before wrapping her arms around Fatin. The other girl doesn’t protest at the contact, but she also doesn’t acknowledge or lean into it, just continues shivering.

It’s hard but she tries not to notice how well their bodies fit together. They’ve slept close together before (Fatin actually has been insistent about Leah sleeping near her ever since “Leah’s second Virginia Woolf moment” as Rachel dubbed it accordingly), but never this close, with her front pressed up against Fatin’s back. They’re basically spooning.

As if she heard Leah’s thoughts, Fatin mumbles, “I’m the little spoon. God, how embarrassing.”

She lets out a pained laugh and Leah freezes. She wasn’t expecting for Fatin to react, let directly acknowledge what’s happening.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t spooned someone before, Rilke,” Fatin’s voice cracks but still manages to have her signature teasing lilt.

“Of course I have,” Leah says into Fatin’s shoulder, her face heating up against her will. Thank God, Fatin isn’t looking at her.

“Well then you know you have to commit,” Fatin says, moving Leah’s arm so it’s curled against Fatin’s stomach. Leah counts to 100 by 7’s twice to resist the urge of flexing her fingers against Fatin’s skin. Not the time.

Her brain blurts out the first thing she thinks of, “Ironic, how you’re talking to me about commitment.”

(Smooth Leah, real smooth)

Fatin doesn’t respond to her stupid ass comment, doesn’t talk for a long time. She is not crying as much, at least not that Leah can hear, the tears could still be falling down her face silently, she reminds herself.

“You know, my dad didn’t let me say goodbye to my brothers,” Fatin finally says. “At the airport. Didn’t even let them come, they had to stay home with my mom. He said they had ‘too much homework’ which was bullshit. School was almost over by the end of May. I knew he just didn’t want me to see them and now…”

Fatin takes a shuddering breath and dissolves into fresh sobs.

“It’s been fifty days and...and I don’t know if I’m ever going to see them again,” she hiccups.

“Fatin you don’t…” but the reassurance dies in Leah’s throat. After fifty days, dying on the island seems like a very real possibility, as real of a possibility when Leah was losing her mind over the realization and tried to run into the ocean a month ago, maybe even more so now, with their collective fear growing each day about how purposeful everything feels, how a group of (seemingly) random strangers arbitrarily came to be stuck on an island, depending on each other. The day they saw the plane fly over doesn’t even register in Leah’s mind as significant anymore, just another circumstance on her list proving that something is fucking wrong.

It hits her, Leah’s bad at this. Being there for someone, let alone comforting them. It feels alien to her, as much as her cell phone or Ian, a thousand miles away, desperately insignificant to her, to what’s on this island. Honestly, she can’t remember the last time she’s touched someone like this before the island, especially someone she cares about. Leah was never a particularly touchy kid but after him, when she started to flinch at her mother’s touch or shunned away from her father’s hugs, her tolerance for physical contact plummeted, pretty much becoming nonexistent.

The feeling rises from her chest into her throat like bile and Leah becomes acutely aware of how her body is positioned, how she’s holding Fatin, just like how he held her: from behind, chin tucked into shoulder, arms snaking around her waist. She always found it comforting but now, in the haze of the memory, she wonders if he did that to keep her in place, to hold her down. Leah stiffens, she can’t help it, as the pressing, suffocating feeling settles again over her body.

But Fatin isn’t him, and neither is she. Leah knows that, knows it in the way Fatin’s hair smells like pears and sand and salt, knows it in the spaces that she's hesitant and timid, Fatin is unselfishly bold, knows it by the way Fatin’s fingers never rest, even now tapping out a slow melody on her arm, knows it because Fatin’s been there for her since the plane crash (well, close enough), holding her and crying with her, and a tiny, persistent voice in the back of Leah’s head whispers loving—

Still, Leah gently extracts her hands from around Fatin’s waist and tugs on her shoulders until Fatin is turning over to face her.

“You will. We will get back home, we have to.”

Maybe it’s the darkness that makes her bold, but Leah leans forward, just enough, to brush her lips against Fatin’s forehead. She tries to ignore the hitch in her chest or the memory of Fatin doing the same to her after she ran into the ocean, thinking Leah was still knocked out from the pills instead of just dozing.

“You probably just got sand in your mouth, dummy,” the weight of the insult is weakened by the way Fatin’s voice breaks.

“I don’t care,” and Leah doesn’t. She has more important things to think/worry about than a few grains of sand, like keeping everyone she knows alive, keeping herself mostly sane, and not screwing up and saying something incredibly stupid in front of this girl she’s holding in her arms.

Fatin sucks in a breath and maybe, just maybe, thanks to the light from the full moon above them, Leah sees Fatin’s lips quiver. It takes her a second to look back up at Fatin and the other girl is already looking at her, the air thick with tension, thick with an unspoken something.

Leah’s nose tickles as Fatin nudges it ever so slightly with her own. It feels like an invitation and maybe in another life without deserted islands and broken girls Leah would understand and kiss Fatin until they’re both breathless, but she looks at Fatin again, still with tears on her face, and wonders if Fatin expects it because that’s all she’s ever known: people using her body for their own motivations. And it’s not that Leah doesn’t want to kiss her, because God, she does, but she wants to do it right, and wants it to last this time.

She leans in because she can’t completely resist the hedonistic (self-destructive) pull in her stomach, the curiosity of how Fatin’s skin feels against her lips, and presses her lips into the corner of Fatin’s cheek, just close enough to her mouth to say I want this too, but not now. Leah knows she’s lingering, but the mix of perfume and salt is almost addictive and it just feels so fucking good to touch someone, knowing Fatin won’t break. (Is it because they’re both broken already, who knows?)

Leah pulls back and Fatin’s looking at her with more tears streaking silently down her cheeks, but Leah’s pretty sure she understands.

She wipes a tear from the side of Fatin’s eye and maybe, she thinks for a moment Fatin is going to make a comment about messing up her mascara, but then thinks better of it, because this moment, where they’re both staring into each others eyes under the moonlight on an empty beach feels too heavy for any words.

Instead, Fatin just tucks her face into the crook in Leah’s collarbone and shudders and shakes with silently sobs, but Leah holds her, all through the night, even when she’s too exhausted to open her eyes anymore, and falls asleep too.

Thankfully, when Dot finds them in the morning still curled into each other, she waits until they walk back to camp with the others before nodding and passing a water bottle to Fatin.

#the wilds #the wilds!fic #leah rilke #fatin jadmani #leah x fatin #leatin #leatin fic #leatin breakdown hours #my brain decided to finally finish this prompt and i absolutely love it <33 #whoever sent this in thank YOU i'm sorry it's like a month late #the void

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writtenonreceipts · 4 years ago

Text

A Throne of Glass Fanfiction. Rowaelin.

8k words later and everything hurts. I just kept writing and writing because I couldn’t make up my mind on what I wanted to happen or how to end it so here we are...part four? i seriously don’t know if i can or should fix it at this point, hahaha...ha. ha?

Warnings: angst. it hurts.

Based on a prompt I received here and you can find part two is here

PART 3

December 18th

“How are you today, Aelin?”

The was, without a doubt, her least favorite question.

Picking at her nails, Aelin shook her head. There was so much to say and most of it wasn’t significant. Did she talk about how she hasn’t had a decent night's sleep in over a month? Or how she couldn’t concentrate at work for more than ten minutes? Or maybe she could talk about the fact that her best friend and cousin were getting married and she was asked to play the piano as Lysandra walked down the aisle.

“I’m fine,” she said as she looked up.

Across the room Yrene didn’t look convinced. Her curly brown hair framed her lovely features and accented the golden-brown light of her eyes. She was a beautiful woman and Aelin had to wonder why she didn’t have a ring on her finger. She was obviously successful, kind, attractive, and when Aelin wasn’t being stubborn—easy to talk to.

“If you’re going to lie to me, you may as well leave now,” Yrene said. She leaned back in her seat and clicked her pen as she watched Aelin.

Sighing, Aelin ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know how I am.”

“You don’t want to be here, we can start with that,” Yrene suggested. She smiled knowingly and Aelin rolled her eyes.

“I don’t want to be here because I know it’s a waste of time,” Aeline said.

“But you came anyways. Why?”

“It’s what everyone expects of me,” Aelin said with a shrug. “So, I may as well get it over with.”

“So, you don’t think anything is wrong?” Yrene pressed. “There’s nothing keeping you up at night? Your tapping foot is just a random occurrence?”

Aelin’s foot stopped. She pursed her lips and glared at Yrene who smiled serenly.

“When we are in uncomfortable situations we have tells, unconscious ticks,” Yrene explained. “I’m not trying to intimidate you; I hope you know you can be honest with me.”

Intimidate. Yrene was not intimidating. Not really. Aelin just didn’t want to spill her problems out like this. Not now.

“Why, despite everything, did you come today?” Yrene asked.

There’s no point lying. Not when Yrene can point it out so easily. Not when she doesn’t get much satisfaction out of it anyways.

“If I didn’t come, I would have had to go into a work meeting,” Aelin said, “and Sam would have been there. And after that stupid party—I just can’t be around him right now.”

“Why do you think that is?” Yrene prods. “Are you embarrassed by what he may have seen with you and your friends? That was the first time he really met any of them, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I mean, we only got together a few months ago after I left,” Aelin replied, her foot began tapping again and she adjusted the bracelets on her wrist. “But why should I be embarrassed by him? He treats me well; he cares about me. But it was my first time seeing everyone in so long and I didn’t think he would have come.”

“You didn’t want him to meet everyone.” Yrene’s words were innocent as they tried to make sense of Aelin’s rambling. For which Aelin was grateful, at least one of them knew what was going on. And yet...and yet they sent a chill through Aelin’s body.

“I didn’t want him to meet everyone,” Aelin agreed. She met Yrene’s eyes. “Because as soon as he did everyone would try and assume that I was fine. And dammit, fine is the farthest from what I am feeling.”

When she started therapy, Aelin had been back in Terrasen for all of twenty-four hours. November twentieth was her first session with a woman who had a private practice and a website that declared her specialties lied in healing from trauma and working through anxiety and depression. It was a simple profile. One that Aelin wasn’t sure why she went for it, but in a spurt of desperation she’d made an appointment.

Almost a month later and at times, bi-weekly appointments, Aelin didn’t know if she were any better off than when she first stepped off the plane from Paris.

Sitting in her office near the end of the workday, Aelin scrolled through social media on her phone. She really had to stop doing so, but staring at a computer screen full of fashion sketches or marketing reports was not appealing. She unfortunately stumbled across a post Fenrys made not twenty minutes ago.

It was a simple picture of him, Lorcan, Conall, and Rowan. Each dressed in a suit and tie. Each handsome in his own right. Of course, Aelin’s eyes lingered on Rowan. Of course, she couldn’t help but imagine what he had done with himself over the past year. Of course, she knew it was stupid of her to do so.

Landed an epic deal in Wendlyn! Got the best team around.

Aelin was surprised to see Fenrys had managed not to cure on the page, even if it was a work-related post. Just as she was surprised that he had kept his innocuous verbage kept simple using only one “epic” and not a single “dude” or “rad.”

The knock on Aelin’s door had her looking up and she found Sam staring in at her. He had a handsome smile and his bright eyes watched her with interest.

“Hey,” he said, “you almost done here?”

Aelin glanced at her screen where numbers and approvals still needed to be inputted. She was a terrible person. How the hell had she been selected to go to Italy, let alone Paris, for those work assignments?

“Chock it up to the Monday brain, but I’m going to need to make it a late day,” she said regretfully.

Sam frowned and Aelin knew he could see right through her. At least mostly. He might not have seen everything going on in her mind, but he knew her enough to take an educated guess.

“Let me order take out and I can stay and help you,” he offered.

An unexplainable stab of emotion filled Aelin as she looked up at him. He was too good to her. Too good for her.

“I thought you had plans,” she said after she was able to school herself.

Sam smiled sheepishly. “Just with your cousin and Dorian. They invited me out for drinks.”

I didn’t want for him to meet everyone.

Just as soon as she’d swallowed down her emotions, the panic began to rise again. Hell.

“Go.” She said. The response surprised her. It was the absolute last thing she wanted to say but the simple word slipped her lips before she could stop it. “Go. I’ll be fine. It’s not much anyways.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” she lied.

And because Sam was too good, he couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t see the subtle shake of her foot or the way she adjusted the bracelets on her wrist.

Instead he crossed her office and leaned over the desk to kiss her. Slow and languid. He pulled back much too soon.

“I’ll call you later, yeah?” he said with a heart wrenching smile on his face.

“Yeah,” she replied and watched him go.

It wasn’t long before five o’clock rolled around and he stopped by again to make sure she was fine working late by herself. After she convinced him to leave, she waited. She waited until the last of the interns and admins left before she pulled out her phone and made a call.

They picked up on the second ring.

“I’m going to send you an address,” Aelin said, “can you bring a few things and meet me there in an hour?”

“I thought I was mortal enemy number one on your hit list.”

Chaol Westfold. Tall, muscular, handsome, and an ass.

“Did you bring the cake?” Aelin asked.

He hefted a plastic bag up. “And the beer.”

“Then congratulations,” Aelin replied, “you are now welcomed back into the fold of friendship.”

Chaol looked as though that were the last thing he wanted, but he entered her office and shut the door behind. He muttered under his breath about this not ever happening again as he unloaded the cake and beer.

Aelin immediately went for the cake. Chocolate hazelnut with a creamy frosting. It was the first thing she ate after getting back from Paris. It had to be the best creation in the world. She grabbed a plastic fork from one of the drawers in her desk and immediately dug in.

“Are we going to talk or am I just your cake supplier now?” Chaol asked.

Reluctantly, Aelin dug another fork out of her desk and tossed it to him. He accepted, but he didn’t eat.

Aelin licked a blob or frosting from her fork. “Do you know why we broke up?”

“We lied to each other about everything,” Chaol answered. Slowly, he scrapped a bit of frosting on his fork. He contemplated his next words before continuing. “And we never talked about it either.”

“Right,” Aelin said, nodding. “Do you ever regret breaking up?”

That was the question that drove Chaol to a real bite of the cake and Aelin had to smother a laugh watching the sight. Chaol never ate cake or chocolate or anything that wasn’t specifically for keeping in excellent shape. So the sight of him actually enjoying eating the cake was the funniest thing she had ever seen.

“Of course I do,” Chaol said. “At least, I regret how we broke up. You’re the first woman I ever loved, Aelin. The first one who really...I don’t know taught me how to live.”

She shook her head. “Nah. I dragged you around into trouble.”

They sat in silence as they ate the cake. Aelin ate far more than her share.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Chaol asked. “Or tell me how the hell you still have my number?”

She grinned viciously. “I had to keep you in my contacts in case I needed someone to frame for murder. And you were just the asshat to fit the bill. Until you brought me cake.”

He rolled his eyes at her and cracked open a beer. “Why am I not surprised?”

Cackling, Aelin stuffed her face with more cake. She knew that she couldn’t ignore his original question for long. There was a reason she had called him and only him. Maybe this was something she should have talked to Lysandra about. Or even Yrene. But there was something about her friendship with Chaol that no one else could fill.

“Rowan cheated on me,” Aelin finally said. Chaol nearly choked on his beer. She grabbed a few spare napkins to toss at him before continuing. “That’s why I went to Europe. I had to get away.

Chaol sat quietly as she continued. She told him everything about the fight she had with Rowan, returning to his apartment, hearing what he did. She told him about leaving. About Sam. About the party.

“He said he still loves me,” Aelin finished. “But if he does, if he ever did then why did he do what he did?”

It was a lot to put on Chaol. He’d never cheated on her. But he’d lied about various things. She’d lied too of course, but they’d been fresh out of high school trying to live their lives. She’d certainly loved him enough to have sex with him for her first time.

And then they’d drifted further and further apart. To the point that Aelin never knew who she was when she was with him. It was unfortunate really because his friendship had helped her through the hellish years of high school and on into that first year of college. And then it was gone.

“Have you talked to him?” Chaol asked. It was an innocent enough question, but Aelin could see the rise of his brow and knowing glint in his eyes.

Aelin sighed dramatically. "You should meet my therapist. All the two of you want me to do is talk."

"Aelin," Chaol said, his voice growing just a tick more serious.

"What is there to talk to him about?" Aelin stabbed at the cake, suddenly feeling ill which was far too disconcerting. "I know how I feel on the matter. So does he."

Chaol grunted unconvinced. "I doubt that."

She stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed the second beer he brought and settled in to mock him endlessly.

December 19th

"It's seven in the morning." Yrene frowned as Aelin pushed herself into the office.

"And yet you're already here," Aelin said.

She hadn't slept the night before. Not really even after talking to Sam who's had a riotous night with Aedion and Dorian. And all she could about was her conversation with Chaol.

"To get ready for the rest of my appointments," Yrene said slowly, still watching Aelin with obvious confusion.

Settling down on the couch, Aelin looked up at Yrene. "Why do I still love him?"

Yrene pursed her lips and shut the office door before crossing to her own chair. She said nothing and simply waited for Aelin to continue.

"I mean, he hurt me, betrayed what I thought we had together, what we could have had together...and all he can say is I don't know what happened. Am I that replaceable to him?"

Yrene continued looking at her, quiet. But she had opened up her notebook and began taking notes on what Aelin was saying.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Aelin added, “and I have not talked to him yet. I don’t think I can.”

Silence stretched through the room and Yrene clicked her pen as she stared at Aelin. The latter woman staunchly avoided looking up from her nails. It wasn’t until Aelin’s phone buzzed with an incoming text that she sighed heavily.

“Where do you feel safe, Aelin?” Yrene asked suddenly. She leaned forward in her chair and fixed Aelin with a long look. “Where do you feel like you are in control and confident?”

Aelin made a face and shrugged. She’d never really thought about that before. “Serious answer? There’s this dumpy little apartment that the company rents out for storage. I go there when I need to get away. Or the coffee shop down on Fifth. A friend I met in Paris has family that owns it.”

“Okay,” Yrene said with a slow nod. “If, and only if, you feel comfortable I think you need to talk to Rowan. You deserve closure on what happened.”

“You really don’t like me, do you?” Aelin asked.

Yrene smiled. “I really think you deserve more than what you are allowing yourself to have.”

Glancing at her phone Aelin sighed. “I need to get to work. Let me know how much I owe you for this.”

Yrene assured her that she would and Aelin slipped out of the office.

By the time she made it outside, a light snow began to fall. The thick white flakes assaulted her and clung to her hair and coat. Aelin muttered a curse. She really did not miss the snow. Nothing about it. Not the cold, the ice, the distinct scent of pine that always seemed to come when the chill did.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Aelin hurried down the walk towards her work building. Thankfully Yrene’s office was close to her own so Aelin was usually never late for work or gone long when she had her appointments during lunch.

She texted Sam and he met her in the lobby of their work building, coffee in hand.

“Hey babe,” he greeted with a kiss to her cheek.

Aelin smiled warmly and accepted her coffee, grateful to the immediate warmth that spread through her fingers.

“Thanks,” she said. She leaned into his side as they made their way to the elevators. “You have fun with the guys last night?”

“They’re great,” Sam agreed. When he glanced down at her a strange expression flashed on his face.

“What?” Aelin asked. “Dorian didn’t shove you into a rose bush, did he?”

Frowning, Sam shook his head. “No?”

“Never mind,” Aelin said quickly. “He just does that sometimes.”

Sam still looked utterly confused and it was such an endearing look that Aelin rose on her toes to press a quick kiss to his jaw.

“They just mentioned something,” Sam began slowly, “it’s just, ah, they mentioned Rowan.”

Aelin nearly choked on her coffee. Sputtering, she covered her mouth. “Rowan? Why the hell would they?”

“It’s nothing,” Sam said quickly, “he was at the bar and they—I don’t even know what it was about. It’s not a big deal.”

Aelin didn’t have a chance to say anything as the elevator opened on their floor and a group of interns was already waiting for Sam to sign off on orders and marketing issues.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” Sam called over his shoulder as he hurried off towards his office.

Aelin could only wave weakly as he disappeared. Sometimes she wished she’d thought through starting a relationship with him a little better. But after everything that happened with Rowan...Sam had been something new. And she’d believed that something knew was just what she needed.

It didn’t help that sometimes Aelin could still feel Rowan’s hands on her, his lips ghosting hers. She could still feel the rumble of his laugh when they spent late nights together and woke up early.

Her stomach churned with acid. The coffee was not sitting well in her empty belly. At least she still had chocolate cake hidden in her office from her chat with Chaol.

But Aelin certainly didn’t want to feel this way. Not anymore, not when she had been trying so hard to move on with her life.

So as soon as she got into her office, she pulled out her phone and sent a text.

Rowan without a doubt hated himself.

He had for a long time and without a doubt fully deserved it. So when he got a text from Aelin he promptly threw up in the nearest trash can of the office break room.

Fenrys laughed at him, absolutely pleased with how the morning was going. Over the passed year they’d been working together, diving into a business management system to help companies and the likes from going bankrupt. The only reason it was going so well was because Rowan did nothing else but work.

"Dude, did you get wasted on a weekday again?"

Rowan flipped him off and grabbed a cup to fill with water. He took a long drink before he glares at his friend.

"Aelin texted me," he said, "she wants to meet for coffee later. To talk."

"And your first response was to vomit?" Fenrys asked, brow quirked.

"Yes," Rowan affirmed.

"If you're looking for sympathy, you're not finding it from me," Fenrys said. He pulled a soda from the fridge and cracked it open, "I'm a sucker for Aelin and would choose her over you any day."

Rowan scowled. "Thanks man,"

"Anytime," Fenrys said. He ripped an invisible hat as he left the break room.

Rowan scrubbed a hand over his face. He knew that Fenrys was right. It was a miracle he'd even managed to hold onto any of his friends. For some reason, they’d all stayed with him. For the most part. Elide and Lysandra were the exceptions. Neither of them, no matter the situation, even bothered to look at him.

One year.

He didn’t blame them.

So now Rowan had the chance to meet with Aelin and, hopefully, talk to her. If she yelled that was fine. If she threw things at him that was fine too. As long as he got the chance to be around her at least once more.

Oh hell he actually had to talk to her didn’t he?

It was going to be an impossibly long day full of Rowan hating himself and coming to terms with the fat that Aelin was going to kill him.

And despite the fact that he’d had a year to prepare for this, Rowan couldn’t have been further from being ready. In all honesty all the scenarios he’d come up with in the last year had not prepared him for this in the slightest.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Rowan barely got anything done throughout the day. Every time he would start on something his mind would begin to wander and he’d find himself on Aelin’s social media pages. Which consequently would make things worse.

Photo after photo were of her and Sam. Italy, Paris, white beaches, and blue waters. She was a goddess in each and every picture. And the smile in each picture, Rowan had to remind himself, weren’t meant for him but for another man. A man who knew how not to screw up the greatest thing in his life.

As he left his office, Rowan took care to avoid running into Fenrys, Lorcan, or any of the others. He knew full well that Fenrys wouldn’t have kept his mouth shut and Rowan wasn’t in the mood for dealing with anyone else telling him he was an idiot. Even Lorcan had avoided talking to him for several months after the incident. Lorcan whose least favorite person was Aelin.

Granted Lorcan was a better man than he was on so many levels.

Brown shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he headed down the street towards the coffee shop Aelin had indicated. It was a small place Rowan had passed by several times but had never bothered to go in. The shop was small and had such a niche ambiance that Rowan never felt like he could go in.

Now as he entered the small space with its rich scents of chai and chocolate, Rowan’s concerns were confirmed.

A woman with chin length black hair and warm, bronze skin greeted him from behind the counter. As Rowan glanced over the menu, he shouldn’t have been surprised that Aelin chose this place. Half the menu was devoted to pastries.

“He wants a black coffee, Nesryn,” a soft voice said from behind him.

Rowan winced and turned to where Aelin sat at a small table tucked into a corner. She already had a large slice of cake in front of her.

Nesryn fixed Rowan with a glare and nodded while muttering under her breath in French. He had no doubts that she knew exactly who he was. Death was most certainly in his future.

Rowan waited until his coffee was finished and paid for--a generous tip added to the jar on the counter—before he joined Aelin.

He didn’t know what to do other than pull the other chair out from the table and take a seat across from her. They sat in silence like that for a long time. Aelin slowly ate her slice of cake and sipped on her own drink. Rowan was startled to see that it was a cup of tea instead of her standard double shot of espresso with hemp milk and cinnamon.

“You wanted to talk before,” Aelin said slowly. It had barely been three days since that party and she couldn’t believe that she had actually let herself meet with him so soon after being staunchly against it. She kind of hated herself for it, but she would deal with that later. “So let’s talk.”

She still didn’t look him directly in the eye. Rowan could see creases in her makeup lining on her eyelids. Her lipstick had long since worn off and he could tell she’d been chewing on her lips like always. A habit that even a year hadn’t taken away. She was still beautiful of course.

“I’m sorry, Rowan said immediately.

Aelin flinched at his words and dragged her teeth over her fork as she scraped as much frosting off the tines as possible.

“And,” Rowan continued, “I can’t...I’ve never forgiven myself for what I put you through.”

Soft classical music played overhead. It reminded Rowan so much of what Aelin liked playing--the gentle folds of notes blending together until they reached a crescendo of sound, of feeling. And then slowly fading bad into those gentle folds.

It wasn’t until a new track started that Rowan continued. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but given with what he did he wasn’t entirely sure what good any of his words would do. Perhaps they would at least help him move on. Maybe.

“I never wanted any of this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you.” Rowan stared at his coffee. His words sounded hollow to his own ears and he couldn’t imagine how Aelin was handling his ramblings. “It just seemed for the longest time we were never on the same page. Nothing was changing and we...we were barely treading water together.”

Aelin pushed the plate of cake away and crossed her arms over her chest. Rowan could feel her eyes digging into him but he was too much a coward to look up and meet that gaze.

“So you left,” Aelin said. “Instead of waiting and trying to make our relationship work, you ran.”

“I’ve regretted it every day,” Rowan whispered.

Music continued to play overhead and a few people trickled in to order drinks or dessert. No one lingered long however, despite the empty tables, the warmth as compared to the outside. In and out. In and out, the customers drifted.

Aelin’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the message and sighed. Barely sparing him a look, she stood grabbing her coat and pulled it on.

“I need to go,” she murmured.

Finally, Rowan glanced up at her. Her eyes were rimmed red, yet she hadn’t shed any tears. Instead the sorrow on her face turned fierce.

“Aelin,” Rowan began, he started to rise, but Aelin held a hand up.

“My boyfriend needs me,” she said. And then she spun on her heel and left the little shop.

Rowan stood next to that little table in the back corner of that shop and watched her go. He watched through the front window until she crossed the street and disappeared around the corner.

He would never get over the idea of her walking away.

Sam was waiting for her in the kitchen of her apartment. He smiled brightly as he looked up from the stove. He was making something that smelled like spices, and warmth, and home.

"Alright, so this is something my mom used to make around Christmas," Sam said. He had a twinkle in his eyes and a dopey sort of grin on his face. "And I know you've had a long week."

Aelin can't help but smile gratefully. She hangs her coat up on the hook beside the door and drops her purse on the small side table there too.

"It smells wonderful," she said. Coming into the kitchen she took a seat at the counter so she could watch Sam as he chopped vegetables and slowly stirred the pot. From what she could tell is was a stew of some sort.

"How was your day?" He asked. As if he didn't know. She'd told him that she was going to meet with Rowan, and while he might not have known what had transpired in that relationship, he'd known something. And especially after the conversation she’d had with Chaol, Aelin knew she had to open the doors of communication and honesty.

And it sucked.

“It’s better now,” she said.

He smiled softly and poured her a glass of wine. It was different from what she usually drank but she was just grateful he was even here that he’d stayed.

When they first got together almost six months ago it had been something haphazard. Slow but quick. Random but natural. And after everything with Rowan...Sam had helped her pull herself together.

It had been something she’d never thought possible. She’d thought that Rowan was her soulmate. That he would always and forever be her person.

As she sipped her drink, Aelin watched Sam work. He talked endlessly about winter nights where he’d helped his mother with cooking dinner for the family. The stew had been his favorite comfort food and thus figured it would be something she might enjoy.

And then he told horrible stories of other occasions where he’d burned dinner too.

Aelin cackled at the idea of him setting off the smoke alarm and having to wave a towel around like a madman.

“I swear I was banned from the kitchen for a full month after that,” Sam laughed. He set the table, simple settings of Aelin’s mismatched bowls and cutlery.

“Well you can’t do anything worse than what I could do,” Aelin said.

Grinning, Sam pressed kiss to her forehead and took a seat next to her.

Through the meal, Aelin was able to press everything else about her day away. She could forget Rowan. She could forget the past year. She could see herself changing.

Maybe it was that notion that caused her to lose her appetite.

“So, what prompted you to make me dinner,” she asked, pushing her half-eaten bowl away. “Your text sounded off.”

Sam shrugged halfheartedly. He’d removed his tie long ago and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. He looked so relaxed and at ease that the slight pang of panic Aelin had felt just moments ago returned full force.

“I’ve just been thinking about you,” he said honestly. He smiled again in that same delightfully silly way that he had.

Aelin knew that wasn’t all that was on his mind. She rolled her eyes and kicked him beneath the table. “And?”

He opened and closed his mouth before taking a large bite of stew to get out of answering.

Aelin stuck her tongue out at him and rose to get a start of dishes.

“Nope,” Sam said, he snatched a hand out and grabbed her wrist. He swallowed his bite of food and shook his head. “You have no responsibilities tonight.”

“Oh?” Aelin arched a brow. “None at all?”

Sam shook his head.

“Then why the hell am I not in my pajamas yet?”

Aelin ran her fingers through his hair and hurried off to her room, more than ready to be out of her work clothes. And, in all honesty, needing to get away for a breath.

There was something about the way that Sam looked at her just now. Something about how he’d been acting recently. It wasn’t anything bad, but it was enough to make Aelin’s breath catch, her pulse race. There was something about him. The man.

She’d never really noticed it before. Not in all the time that she’d been dating Rowan. But when she and Sam had been in in Paris working on the extended project together. She’d seen in then. There was compassion and honor written all along the threads that made Sam who he was. And now...now those threads were becoming more and more noticeable.

By the time Aelin had changed, Sam was already started on the dishes. He topped her wine off and allowed her to help him dry what wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher.

“Aelin,” Sam said after they’d started the dishwasher and left the last few items out to dry.

“Hm?” Aelin hummed taking a long sip of wine.

Sam stepped closer, placing his hands on her waist. He was trim, lean, and obviously in good shape, but not bulky or broad like other men. It didn’t deter Aelin’s attraction to him though.

She leaned into him, willing herself to play on those subtle emotions building in her body.

Sam pressed a kiss to each corner of her mouth before hovering just before her--waiting to give her a longer more meaningful kiss.

He’d been patient with her the last six months. Never pressuring her into sex or anything more intimate than she was ready for. And Aelin would be forever grateful to him for it. But she also couldn’t help but wonder how long that patience would last.

As Rowan had shown, men had their limits.

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut. She would not focus on him. Not now. So she closed the distance between her and Sam and kissed him. It was somewhat sloppy as he’d not been expecting her to move so suddenly, but Sam was quick to recover.

She could most certainly get used to him. Every little thing about him.

“I love you,” Sam said. So carefully his lips moved against hers as they sounded out the words.

I love you.

Aelin’s hands froze at the lower buttons of his shirt. She’d gotten a little out of hand, not that she was too sorry. But his words just reminded her what was really happening.

She opened her eyes and stared into his golden gaze. Her throat constricted as she found herself pulling him closer, closer.

“You love me?” she whispered.

Sam nodded once, firm and definite.

Aelin felt her breath slip out too quickly from her lungs as she kissed Sam again.

December 20th

It was ten o’clock the next evening when Aelin was knocking at the door. Someone swore behind it and Yrene answered. She was still dressing for the day, still wearing makeup. Still holding her case notes in one hand.

"I'm going have to start charging you extra if you keep showing up like this," the woman said. But she let Aelin into the office all the same.

"Fine by me," Aelin replied.

The office was dimly lit by a single lamp and a pile of take out containers from an Indian restaurant took over the table.

"So do you live here or what?" Aelin asked. She turned a lifted a brow at Yrene.

Snorting, Yrene ignored Aelin and crossed to the chair she usually took over and sat down.

"What are we talking about tonight, Aelin?" Yrene asked.

Why was she here? Aelin had no idea. She just knew she didn't want to go home. If she went home, she knew Sam would be there because he was too good for her. He was planning on a late night of hot chocolate and cheesy Christmas movies. And Aelin should want to be there. But she was the idiot who went out for coffee with her ass of an ex. An even bigger ass than Chaol had been.

"I talked to him," Aelin said. "At least I listened to him."

"And? Do you feel better?"

"No." Aelin answered immediately. “Because my current boyfriend who is the best man I could ask for after the hellhole that is Rowan Whitethorn. My current boyfriend told me he loves me. And what do I do but give him a kiss and tell him thanks. He barely left my place half an hour ago before I came here.”

Yrene gave her a bland look. “Don’t you have friends for this? This is girl talk Aelin.”

Aelin cursed and pushed herself off the couch. She stood there for several long moments. “Why can’t I love him? I want to. Dammit, I want to. But, I just…”

“What?” Yrene prompted softly when Aelin didn’t continue. “But what, Aelin?”

“But what if it happens again?” Aelin asked. She looked at Yrene and shook her head. “I thought I could trust Rowan and then he cheated on me. I think I can trust Sam. But I just can’t go through it all again.”

Neither of them spoke as Yrene makes a note in her little booklet. She lets Aelin stand there breathing heavily and collect her thoughts.

But Aelin isn’t thinking much aside from being angry. Angry at Rowan especially.

“He had no right to tell me he still loves me,” Aelin said suddenly. “If he’d really wanted to talk why would he do that to me? Why would he put me in that position?”

“Would you have listened any other way?” Yrene asked. Aelin shot her an angry look and Yrene held up a finger. “All I’m saying is that he might not even know how to deal with it all either. Have either of you moved on?”

“I’m trying,” Aelin whispered.

“And I am so proud of you for that,” Yrene said with so much conviction that Aelin felt tears prick her eyes. “But I also want you to consider what else might be holding you back. You talked to Rowan; you made that step. What else can you do? Do you think you could—”

Yrene cut herself off and frowned. Aelin watched her have an internal battle.

Finally, Yrene shook her head. “Do you think you could forgive him?”

Aelin cursed and stalked to the office door, closing it with a loud snap.

December 23rd

Rowan decided that he hated the holidays.

And he did not have to explain himself for it.

Besides, everyone basically already knew why he did. And that it was his own fault for being in such a miserable state of existence.

Because of course he’d tried. He’d tried to reach out to Aelin in the past year, just for some sort of reconciliation. He’d never gotten anything in response. Connall told him to try therapy. Lorcan told him to try drinking himself to oblivion. Fenrys had ignored him for the better part of the year.

And now they were in the holidays and Rowan had to at least try and not be a “broody old buzzard.”

As Aelin would have said.

He was a fool. An utter waste of a fool.

“Remind me again why you’re having another holiday party?” Rowan asked Dorian that night.

Unlike the last party, this one was far more casual with far more alcohol and far less dress code.

“Because this one will actually be fun,” Dorian told him lightly.

The man still didn’t like Rowan, of course, but he had been gracious enough to allow Rowan to join his other friends to the invite.

“Especially when Aelin gets here and skins you alive,” Doran added. With a feral grin that he’d likely learned from Manon Blackbeak, Dorian slapped Rowan on the back with far too much force and left him alone.

He needed a whisky.

As Rowan went to get a drink, he heard more guests arrive. He glanced up to see Elide Lochan give a squealing hug to Lysandra.

Elide, he knew, was a longtime friend of Manon’s as well as a somewhat potential girlfriend of sorts to Lorcan. Rowan wasn’t sure and didn’t really want to ask knowing Lorcan would likely punch him. Elide was also a friend of Aelin’s so he would also be avoiding her.

“Oh look, it’s the ass,” Elide said as she calmly slipped past Rowan to grab a beer for her and her friend.

“Lochan,” he said looking down at her.

She fixed him with a sharp smile that was mostly teeth and derision. Lorcan better pray he never get on the woman’s bad side.

The night was progressing far too slowly for Rowan’s tastes and he debated to simply walk out. No one really wanted him there anyways. He had to squash that plan when Aelin entered, her new boyfriend at her side.

As always, Aelin looked phenomenal.

Her hair was straightened and pulled into a low ponytail so it hung down her back. Her makeup was simple with only bright red lipstick as the biggest accent. If Rowan hadn’t already been screwed over by the sight, the tight black dress she wore did the trick.

Hell she was glorious.

But he shouldn’t look at her like that. He had no right to. Not anymore.

Rowan knocked back his whiskey and refilled his drink. What was he even doing here?

Aelin was laughing too loudly at something Manon said. The two it seemed had the potential of becoming friends which in and of itself should terrify everyone.

He knew he must have been staring too long and too intently because Aelin chose that moment to look at him. The light that burned in her eyes snuffed out almost immediately and Rowan felt his heart squeeze in his chest.

He was a damned fool.

Like everything else in her life, tonight wanted to screw her over.

Aelin found Rowan staring at her. Blatantly. A slight haze of panic wrapped around her, until her felt Sam’s hand cup her elbow and pull her into his side. For that she was grateful. Grateful for that small ounce of support. Even though she couldn’t quite focus on anything, she could focus on Sam and the fact that he was there.

“Oh, we’re so excited,” Lysandra said, pulling Aelin from her tunnel vision of self-doubt. “It’s a miracle there was even an opening at the venue, but it’s going to be perfect.”

“That vineyard is so beautiful,” Elide agreed. She wore her hair long with her straight-line bangs finally growing out to the point that she could part her hair properly and style her hair the way she wanted to. Aelin had tried to convince Elide that getting bangs was not a good idea. But Elide had been drunk and on a mission.

“You’re going to make me play the piano outside?” Aelin complained. At least she could somehow contribute to the conversation even though she was lightyears away from the party.

“Oh you’ll be fine,” Lysandra insisted. She sent a wink Aelin’s direction as if to prove the worries were unfounded.

Aelin rolled her eyes.

This was normal. She could do normal. She could do easy and relaxed. All of her friends were here. All of the people she knew and loved. With of course the one exception.

“I just can’t believe you guys were able to squeeze your way onto the top of the list,” Manon said. She not so subtly thrust a drink into Aelin’s hand. Something that would most definitely get her drunk, no doubt.

There was the briefest of pauses where Lysandra and Aedion exchanged a look that was so quick and practiced that Aelin first thought how wonderful it was that they knew each other so well to communicate the way that they did and then a terrible sense of foreboding.

It was seconds. Seconds spanning years.

“Rowan helped,” Lysandra finally admitted. The guilt on her face was evident.

Aelin immediately took a sip of the drink Manon had made her. Oh yes, it was certainly going to make her forget about the night.

“He knows someone who knows someone,” Lysandra added. She glanced over her shoulder to where Rowan was still hiding near the kitchen.

His feature’s in their perpetual scowled lightened only for an instant. “My friend, Ren owed me a favor.”

“Ren?” Aelin couldn’t help but burst out. Ren was the last person she would have expected Rowan to interact with. Even though she was part of the reason the two even knew each other. “He hates you.”

“I became one of his managers in his company,” Rowan said softly. He met Aelin’s eyes. “Helped him from going bankrupt.”

Her mouth went dry and she had to fight against her automatic instinct to drown the rest of the hellish drink in her hand. Instead she nodded once. Stiffly.

Well here’s to doing something right, she wanted to say. She wanted to scream. She wanted to do anything but stand there and tell Lysandra and Aedion how excited she was.

But what else was there? She would not make a scene. Not so close to the holiday. Not when somehow everyone had moved on with their lives.

And then as a saving grace, her phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Deliberately, she leaned up to kiss Sam on the cheek before excusing herself.

By the time she made it to the hall outside the apartment, she’d missed the call entirely. Aelin scowled to herself and headed downstairs. As long as she had escaped, she would make the most of it.

Outside, the wind had settled. At least she had a coat this time. Her coat with the long sleeves and deep pockets.

The missed call was from Yrene which made Aelin roll her eyes. Now who was bothering who? But she called back all the same.

“Hello Aelin,” Yrene’s calm voice came on.

“Are you upset that I made it one day without bothering you?” Aelin asked with a low chuckle.

She walked a few steps down the block, careful to avoid chunks of ice from a brief dusting snow last night combined with the sudden chill of last week.

“I just like checking in on my people,” Yrene said. The line went silent for a minute. “Are you okay?”

Aelin let out a long breath, glad Yrene couldn’t see her. But it seemed that the therapist could read people well enough without actually seeing their face.

“I’m fine,” Aelin said. She tilted her head up to the dark sky and watched as the first few flakes of snow began to descend.

Yrene made a disbelieving grunt on the other end, but remained silent.

“I am,” Aelin insisted. “I’m surrounded by my people.”

“Alright,” Yrene said, “let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” Aelin promised.

As she hung up, she took a long breath and told herself it was fine for not going into everything with Yrene. Because she was fine. Really.

She turned to head back inside and came face to face with Rowan. He remained a few feet off, just descending the steps from the apartment building. At first, it seemed he didn’t even see her. Until he turned.

They stood there, feet apart. Worlds apart. So far from where they had been.

“I was just leaving,” Rowan said.

Aelin stared.

“I didn’t even want to be there anyways,” Rowan continued.

Snow continued to fall. The large flakes weren’t that imposing. It would end quickly, at least that’s what Aelin had always heard. A large snow would come and go, but the small one always lingered.

“Why would you even be there?” Aelin asked. She shook her head, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “You don’t even like Dorian. And Lys and Aedion will tie you to a spit and burn you alive. Why—”

She cut herself off before saying something truly unnecessary. Collecting her thoughts, Aelin breathed in the bone chilling air.

“Don’t you realize how hard this is for me? I’m done trying Rowan.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “Try? Did you try Aelin? Or are you just like me, running away. It’s what you did back then too.”

“Don’t you dare put this on me,” she hissed.

Aelin drew herself up so close to him. Close enough to smell his cologne. It hadn’t changed in all this time. Close enough to see the dark flecks of his green eyes. They were just as bold as before. Close enough to remember.

Tears sprung to her eyes as she stumbled back. Too close. Too close.

Rowan cursed and ran both hands through his hair. The longer bits fell into his face, cutting across his features.

She wanted to tell him good-bye. Wanted to say that this was it. She was done. Because she was, wasn’t she?

“I’m sorry,” he said. So soft that the words were almost swept away on the snowflakes curling past. “I didn’t mean that. I just...Dammit Aelin, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to erase myself from your life. From my life. When even after all this time it’s always been you. It’s only been you.”

The snow fell around them. The thick tufts turned into tiny specks. There was so much that Aelin almost lost sight of Rowan, even though she stood mere feet from her.

Bastard. Bastard for doing this to her again.

Because all she could see was that woman, Lyria, leaving the apartment building. A smug, secret sort of smile on her face. And the woman couldn’t have been more different from Aelin. Dark hair, tanned skin. Small and petite. And all Aelin could see was Rowan’s hands roving another woman. His lips…

Aelin shuddered.

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life regretting what happened,” Rowan continued. He was the one coming closer now. He reached out to catch her when she turned away, his grip soft enough that she could have left if she’d tried. “I’ll spend the rest of my life hating me for what I did to you. To us.”

His words were too soft, too gentle. Aelin found herself staring up at him with the tears in her eyes that she would not let fall.

She would not break. Not now. Here she was falling into the sense of love and life he always provided. Hell. What couldn’t she just let him go?

Aelin pressed a hand against Rowan’s chest. The sweater he wore was thick but she could still feel the steady thrum of his heart beating an uneven rhythm.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life hating you for that too,” she said.

And then she pulled away.

Seriously though, idk what happened here. Oh boy, ooooohhhh boy. thanks for reading my dears. love y’all!

AND I promise that I do have stuff in the mix that’s not so angst ridden.

tags, if i missed/you don’t want to be tagged-- let me know, I’m trying and failing at getting my life in order.

@ladywitchling @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @bamchickawowow @sjmships @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

#angst #rowaelin #rowaelin au #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin and rowan #aelin x rowan #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction

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