#remember when he swore so much it was a constant beeping sound for a while?

[misery-has-no-company-now]

Montana: I know you think you’re tough, but you are fucking five feet tall!

Rhode Island: I AM FIVE FOOT TWO!!!

[safespacespence]

just for tonight

[summary] you and spencer know that you'd break up as soon as you saw each other, but spencer can't be away from you for too long. he misses everything about you, so even if you break up the next day, it's worth holding you for one night. [pairing] spencer reid + fem!reader [warnings] it's just lowkey sad [category] angst with a sprinkle of fluff [word count] 1.4k

[a/n] i loved writing this, the way it flowed from my fingers was natural (concerning? because it's angst? anyways..) i was really happy with this. shoutout to @writer-in-theory for reading it so i could talk about it ! HEHE. masterlist

the start of every relationship is full of bliss, blind love, and pure innocence. it’s the forehead kisses while your partner is asleep, the eternal garden of butterflies in the stomach that you think will never disappear, and the hugs where you take a shy whiff of their hair and think about the scent for the next hour. thoughts are easily clouded. you don’t think straight.

and then you enter the stage of slowed reality. kisses are heartfelt and neither wants to let go, fights occur but both are willing to talk it out, and you smell their other scents, but love them even more for it. there’s a beauty to the slowed reality. it’s when you imagine a future together, and see how you both withstand the highs and lows.

you never got a slowed reality.

long-distance may be hard, but not-so-long-distance felt worse. at the start, spencer spent every weekend and day off to see you, to spend time with you, even if he came in while you were deep asleep. any and every bit of time counted. but there came a point where he stopped coming; both of you were lost in the whirlwind of work, and neither of you were willing to sacrifice that.

so, it was texts goodnight and goodmorning, with no in-between. happy anniversaries signified with a beep of your phone. hoping neither forgot what each other was like. a constant state of limbo.

you knew it was over. you swore you would end it when you saw him next. but that next never seemed to come.

spencer knew it was over, too. and he knew you would end it the next time you saw him. so he never wanted that next to come.

“reid, a word?” hotch asked as spencer packed up his satchel. spencer walked to hotch’s office, unsure of what was to come. as he entered the room, the air was odd. after years in the bau, spencer still had a slight trouble in profiling hotch, because of how well masked he was sometimes.

spencer sat down in front of hotch’s desk. “any weekend plans?” hotch asked casually, browsing over a file in front of him. spencer knew this wasn’t why he was called in to his unit chief’s office. “might see a russian movie. you?” “jack has a soccer game.” he paused, finally looking at spencer in the eye. “how’s your girlfriend?” spencer felt a lump in his throat. “i-uh. she’s okay—?” hotch could see right through him. “she called.”

spencer thought about what her voice sounded like now, only hearing her through her voicemail recording, the same six words ringing in his head, ‘leave a message after the beep’. “do me a favor, reid?” he asked, not waiting for spencer’s response. “go visit her this weekend, okay?” spencer remained silent, his mind running too quickly for his mouth. “that’s an order,” hotch paused, giving a small smile. “and a request, coming from a friend. you’re dismissed.”

spencer sat in bed that night, thinking. and though his eidetic memory allowed him to remember every single word you’ve said to him—it wasn’t as helpful when he wanted to remember the way you sounded, or the way your lips tasted, or the way you slept when he was holding you.

he missed you so much. but he didn’t want to let you go. he knew that if you saw him this weekend, it would be the end of things. plain and simple. but if he did see you this weekend, he would be able to hear your voice, hold you again, and maybe, just maybe, get to kiss you. even if it was for the last time.

spencer took his time to ponder on it, and then decided.

he grabbed his go-bag and ran out the apartment door.

it was time to see you. and he could not wait a moment longer.

spencer got to your apartment at three in the morning. he stopped in front of your door, taking a breath and realising what was to come. you would be far too disoriented and too indulgent of sleep to break up with him right then and there. it would come in the morning. he could hold you for tonight.

as he pulled the spare key from his satchel, he remembered doing this during the first two months of dating; the pure adrenaline that would run through his blood, pushing him to unlock the door already, to see you already. and now, his fingertips were cold as the blood was too slow for his constantly shaking hands. he trembled, finding the right angle for the key to enter the keyhole.

he heard a click as the door unlocked, and spencer swung it open. the wind gushed in through the open window and ran through spencer’s curls, and chills spread through his body, an appropriate physical manifestation of his anxiety.

he tiptoed into your bedroom and slipped under the covers immediately. the change in the amount of heat under the duvet was distinct. distinct enough to wake you up. you felt his curls settle on the pillow, and you knew it was him. a part of you felt like you were dreaming, but a part kept hope that it was real. “spencer?” you whispered, your eyes still shut.

hearing you say his name so innocently pushed him to the edge. he couldn’t help but feel his tears threatening to spill. when you whispered his name, his thoughts were brought to the absolute bliss you both held in your memories—the best parts of each other. and then he blinked, and the darkness and cold of the room came into focus, and your voice whispering his name hung in the air, waiting for a response.

“hi, sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you.” you sighed. “that’s okay.”

wordlessly, spencer slipped his arms around you, desperate for your touch. as soon as he did, you felt your breath hold in your lungs and your body tense. it had been too long since he held you. you could feel his eyes watch you, and he lightly brushed a hair out of your face. “i missed you.” he said. a part of him hoped you didn’t hear. “i missed you more.” you said, not missing a beat.

you heard his sniffle, and that’s how you knew that he knew. “you know what’s going to happen to us, don’t you?” after asking that question, you knew it was better to keep your eyes closed. because if you saw him cry, you would lose it too.

“i know.” his voice was cracked. he tried to make it sound like he wasn’t crying.

spencer pulled you closer. you could feel his breath on your skin now, and your body began to tremor. you were holding in too much tension, tears, and emotion.

you lifted your hand to wipe his tears, and the way his cheekbones rose and dipped came back to you like muscle memory. like everything about his body came back to you in that one touch. so you couldn’t stop yourself from what came out of your mouth next. “i love you.”

it was a whisper. but you would scream it if you could, and do whatever it took to remind him.

you felt more tears stain his cheek, and you continued to wipe them away. “i’m sorry.” he said. “i know.” you struggled to keep yourself together. “it’s okay.” he moved forward, and you felt his lips land on your forehead. with your eyes closed, you focused on the way his lips felt.

the moment ceased the tremors of your body.

there was a lasting buzz on the spot he kissed and he lingered over it, wondering if that was okay. “i love you too.” he whispered back.

he held you tighter, taking in as many whiffs of your hair as he could, memorizing and rehearsing the way your skin felt under his hands.

he didn’t want to forget you.

“just for tonight?” you asked. he ran his fingers through your hair, still sobbing quietly. your eyes were still closed, but you knew he wouldn’t take his eyes off of you. “just for tonight.”

you both knew what was to come in the morning.

but while the moon and stars decorated the night sky, you both hung on to each other, tangled in scents and warmth, falling asleep, hoping to delay the inevitable of tomorrow.

tell me what you thought masterlist send me prompts or requests navigation

join my taglist @sinnxagain @literaila @sheslostinbooks @reidsmilf @pretty-boys-book-club @writer-in-theory @simonsnowsblog @foxy-eva @reidsbookclub @spencerreidat3am @shooting-a-star-at-the-moon @belongwithreid @angstyalex @writingquillsandpainpills @lil-stark @fightingdragonswithreid @hoshihiime @samuel-de-champagne-problems @sadgirlml @cynbx @matthewgraygublerlover

[greenygreenland]

What I'd Do For You:

-imagine Roy as your adoptive father

-he'd be so flawed but he'd try his hardest

-I write for females because that's what I'm most comfortable with, but it's not too prominent (please don't be offended! It's only what I'm comfortable with!)

Summary: You're feeling down. Roy's here to help.

Today was nothing short of a bad day. It poured as soon as you stepped out of the house, and before you could grab your umbrella, you realised you were going to be late. Not long after, you ran straight into Ed and Al, who both ignored you in favour of chasing some guy down the street.

Whatever, you told yourself. Not like I needed a 'hi' from my best friends anyway.

Not long after, a car zoomed by and splashed muddy water at you. If it weren't for the rain, you'd be caked in the stuff. As you continued down the street, some guy thought it would be fun to mug you. Of course, when he found out you were a state alchemist, he made a run for it. But that didn't make you feel better, not when there were people staring at you like you were a nuisance.

What did you ever do to them anyway? Maybe it was just the fact today was a terrible Monday afternoon.

When you got to Roy's office, your clothes were sopping wet, your hair a matted mess, and your heart, very much hardened and cold. You softly closed the door behind you. There was no point in slamming it when you didn't have the energy to be angry in the first place.

"(Y/n)?" Roy stared at you incredulously. "What happened to you?" You pointed to the window.. The pouring rain and gray clouds were enough of an answer. "Everything happened, that's what." He raised a brow with a short sigh. "'Everything' is quite vague, don't you think?" He stood and made his way to a cabinet. From seemingly nowhere, he found a towel and threw it at you.

"Thanks Roy." You ran it through your hair and placed it on the couch to sit on. It was just as wet as your clothes, but it wasn't like anyone had a blow dryer on hand. Roy took a seat across from you on the opposing couch. "Care to tell me what happened today?"

You thought back to the Elric brothers, then the mugging and everything else you had to go through today. Roy listened intently. "Why did you leave the house so late?" he inquired. "You could have been here at eight o'clock sharp if you hadn't been up all night reading. Then you could have avoided that mugger, the rain, and everything in between." You huffed. "So what? Changing one thing wouldn’t change the day. And besides, it was a good book. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Put it down." Roy plainly offered. "Save that 'last page' for tomorrow, or better yet, sleep before three in the morning." You didn't like the way he was looking at you, as if he were deciding on whether he should be disappointed, frustrated, or annoyed with you. But bad habits died hard. It wasn't easy to break out of those cycles.

You leaned back into the couch. Defeat crossed your eyes, and that was when Roy realized how tired you looked. It wasn't because of your constant travels, or the fact that Edward and Alphonse ignored you completely (he'd give them a piece of his mind later on), but because you were burnt out.

And maybe feeling a bit down.

"You've been studying a lot." Roy stated. You didn't need him to point out the obvious. It was no secret you were doing your best to help the Elric brothers on their journey towards finding their bodies. "Have you found anything useful?" You shook your head with a tight frown. There was so much you needed to work out, so many variables that didn't add up, and so many frauds you needed to uncover.

"Whenever we're close," you mumbled, "our goal keeps getting farther away. Sometimes I feel so useless while Ed and Al go off on their own accord. I just...I don't know." Your shoulders slumped and Roy's heart began to ache. "It's so hard, and I'm really..." A sigh escaped your lips.

"Tired?" Roy finished. He knew that look well, the one where your eyes darkened with clouds and you looked like you wanted to scream when you couldn't. Long ago, he had the same look. Silently, he swore he'd never do it again. At least, not when you were around.

Seeing that same look on your face made him sick to the stomach. "Take a day off," he started. "The Lieutenant is here so don't worry. As for the Elric brothers, I don't think they'll need your help now. They’re fine as is if you ask me." Roy winced at his words. He didn't mean to make it sound like you were unwanted. In fact, he wouldn't do that even if he was paid.

"Maybe I'm not needed by them anymore.” you concluded. “They're busy anyway, so they won't miss me. It’s been weeks since we last talked actually. And besides, Ed’s really great at everything he does. Same with Al. They’re skilled, smart, everything I’m not." You smiled and it was a bit watery.

Roy's lips parted. No, no, no, that wasn't what he meant. The urge to punch himself in the face was overwhelming. Why was he so bad at wording things?

You stood and folded the wet towel. "I'll take the day off. I'm not sure what I'll do though."

"Wait--"

"If you need me, I'll be around the block somewhere." You looked like you were about to cry, and all Roy could do was watch. He wanted to say something, but what if he made it worse? Saying 'Don't cry!' wasn't exactly comforting, and by the looks of it, you weren't in the mood to talk anything through.

A forced smile made its way to your lips. "I'll be back later Roy."

And just like that, you were gone. The door closed shut with a small click, leaving Roy alone in the quiet office. He stared at the phone on his desk tensely. Hughes was good with people, and he knew how to talk to (Y/n) better than most. If Roy called then maybe...

No. Why should he have to rely on Maes? This was (Y/n). He could deal with his daughter just fine. "Teenagers." He found himself making his way to the phone "Why are they so hard to understand?” The familiar beeping sounded on the other end as he dialed the number.

“Hello, could you connect me to Maes Hughes?”

-----

The lone bench you took refuge on was lonely. But you were fine with that. Here, no one could see you through all the pouring rain and darkened clouds. As your tears mixed in with the cold droplets, you stared into the far off distance. The trees swayed in the occasional breeze and you shivered.

Maybe you should have brought a coat.

Suddenly, the rain stopped pounding against your head. Your dampened hair had rivers flowing down it, and the tears that quietly came to a stop left your cheeks with stains.

“So this is where you’ve been,” a voice calmly said. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Why, after an hour, did he come looking for you in the rain? It wasn’t like it mattered. Roy settled by your side, the umbrella hovering above. “Here,” he handed you your coat, “you’re shivering.”

You pushed the coat away with a shake of your head. “I don’t need it.” There was a crack in your voice you covered with a cough. If Roy noticed or not, he didn’t show it. Instead, he helped you put on the coat. “It would be inconvenient if you were sick,” he decided. “How are you supposed to help the Elrics with a cold?”

That didn’t matter. The Elrics were busy for all you cared, and it wasn’t like they needed you anyway. “I’m dead weight, dad.” The words made your eyes sting again. “They don’t-t-they don’t need me.”

“And why is that?” Roy’s gentle tone made the tears fall fast. “Because, dad, I’m useless. Edward’s so much better at everything. He--he’s always saving the day and figuring out all of this country’s problem’s. And...and when I try to help, I always mess it up.”

You thought back to earlier today, where you bumped into the boys spontaneously. They might’ve been busy, but they blatantly ignored you. And the fact that they hadn’t called all week made you worry. Had you done something wrong? No, maybe they didn’t care for you anymore because you were so useless.

“I...I don’t know what to do.” With the umbrella over your head, Roy saw every tear as clear as day. He watched your shoulders tense and your fists clench into tight fists. You were trying to stop crying, but the tears kept coming and coming like a river.

How useless of you.

“Come here.” You didn't want Roy to see your face. “Come here,” he repeated. You hesitantly scooted closer to him on the soaking bench. He held the umbrella in his left hand and pulled you close with his other. When was the last time he actually hugged you like this? He couldn’t remember, and that made him feel guilty.

Was it his fault that you thought so lowly of yourself? Maybe he should have been more adamant on showing how proud he was of your accomplishments. Becoming a State Alchemist at this age was more than a simple privilege. It was a precedent that no generation had ever seen in their lives.

“Why do you compare yourself to Fullmetal?” he inquired, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “He’s not you.”

“But he’s better than me and I can’t measure up to him.” Roy shook his head dismissively. For a moment, you wondered you disappointed him. “It doesn’t matter what Fullmetal is, (Y/n). He’s strong, I admit, but the most hot-headed kid I’ve ever met. Unlike him out, you never let emotions blind your choices. That’s something Fullmetal can’t do. As for strength, you don’t need that.”

He smiled a little and it was so warm. It wasn’t everyday you got to see this side of Roy. He was always caught up in paperwork, plans, and looking after what he worked so hard to accomplish. “You have enough wits to outsmart me. Remember that time Fullmetal challenged me to a match?”

You nodded. “I joined because I didn’t think he could handle it. Ed didn’t want my help, but I ended up coming along anyway.” A smug smirk made its way up Roy’s lips. “And who lasted the longest?”

“Me.”

“And why was that?”

"Because I read your attack patterns?" You uncertainly replied. Roy frowned. "Say it like you mean it."

"Because I read your attack patterns." you repeated. An approving look made its way up your dad's face. "Exactly. Fullmetal has wit, but you are a much more terrifying opponent." You sniffled with a huff. "I'm not--I'm not even close to your level."

"You don't have to be." Roy turned his gaze to the pouring rain, as if he were thinking about how useless his alchemy would be. "If you believed in yourself more, then you will advance farther than you've already come."

That wasn't true. How could you believe in yourself when you felt like an absolute failure? It didn't matter how many successes you've had in the past, because what if they were all flukes? Some day, your luck would run out. Then you'd let your dad down, along with Ed and Al and Hawkeye and Uncle Maes and everyone else you knew.

"You're not a failure, if that's what you're thinking." Roy blurted out. "I couldn't be more proud of how far you've come. The day I met you, I thought I'd fail you. Look where we are now." He laughed a little and it made you relax in his hold. "If you were a failure, you wouldn't have become a reowned State Alchemist. You wouldn't have survived in the most dire times either, and you wouldn't have made me so proud of you."

Your eyes widened. Had you heard him right? You had to be hearing things. Roy met your gaze and smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm proud of you. Why wouldn't I be?" For a moment, you remained still. The gears in your head churned like clockwork, dissecting and rewinding the words Roy had spoken. You tentatively wrapped your arms around Roy's middle.

Yes, I'm proud of you.

You buried your head into his shoulder.

Why wouldn't I be?

And then you cried. Today was nothing short of a bad day, but if you hadn't forgotten your umbrella, gotten ignored by the Elrics, nearly mugged, or showed up late, then you wouldn't have been able to hear those words and the silent I love you's.

IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLEASE REBLOG (IT HELPS ME OUT SOOOO MUCH AS A WRITER!)

[peachyteez]

death’s grip ≫ DAY TWO, LITTLE CUB.

the tiger hybrid managed to escape from south korea’s top illegal hybird ring fights. of course, they didn’t let him go so easily. losing his chasers in a forest, covered in blood—his and others’—he decided to accept his fate of death from his wounds until a female and two other hybrids managed to take him from death’s grip.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @choisaniskillingme, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @koasworld, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny

can’t be tagged: @yoongisleftboob

feel free to let me know if you would like to be part of the list! :)

✧ notes: went on a lil tangent towards the end buuut ┐(︶▽︶)┌

back。| next。

hongjoong slowly drifted in and out of consciousness. as he slowly came back to reality, so did his senses. the constant beeping of a machine next to him, the painfully familiar hospital antiseptic, the soft mattress he was laying on—wait.

mattress? shooting up in the hospital bed, hongjoong examined his surroundings. instead of the forest where he swore he was just at, he was inside what seemed to be a hospital room. feeling something in his arm, his eyes widened when he looked down. there was a needle in his arm. following the tube that was connected to the needle, he looked up and noticed a clear fluid in a bag that was slowly dripping out. his mind went into panic mode, not understanding what had happened and how he had gotten there in the first place.

suddenly, the door of his room automatically opened and he made eye contact with a familiar woman. the woman from the forest? 

she smiled, seeing him conscious. “good morning, hongjoong,” she greeted. “how do you feel?”

hongjoong blinked, still trying to process the situation. looking down at himself, he realized he was no longer wearing his own clothes, but rather a baby blue hospital top and bottom. he looked back up to her, confusion written all over his face. 

jiyu chuckled. “do you remember? you were bleeding out in the forest and i called the facility’s rescue team to bring you back here. don’t worry, i didn’t change your clothes. yeonjun did. and we cleaned your...many wounds and bandaged them up for you.”

peeking down through the neckline of the top, he indeed noticed the white gauze and bandaging that covered his entire torso. there were even some on his arms and legs. 

“yeonjun washed you up, too,” she sheepishly admitted. “we didn’t realize how much dirt and...blood you had on you until he washed you.” hongjoong had so much dirt and blood that you couldn’t even see the orange fur of his ears and tail. 

“...why?” hongjoong stuttered out, utterly confused. “why did you help me? we don’t even know each other.”

jiyu cocked her head in confusion. “i don’t have to know you to help. the caretakers here don’t know any of the hybrids when they first come in, but that doesn't stop us from trying to help,” she explained with a soft smile. “there’s some good out in the world, hongjoong.”

some good. does that mean he’s gotten the bitter end of the spectrum his whole life?

“other than your wounds,” jiyu continued as she looked through his file, “you don’t have any life-threatening injuries, thank god. but you will have to remain here in the facility for a few weeks for you to fully recover. from how you reacted to me two days ago, i can tell you’ve been through a lot.” 

hongjoong slightly winced at her words. “two days ago?” he asked, slightly horrified. 

“you passed out in the ambulance and you were knocked out the whole day yesterday,” she revealed. “most likely from exhaustion and pain.”

he blankly nodded. he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he had been rescued, or so he hopes. judging from his environment and the woman in front of him, he was pretty sure that was the case. “...you won’t bring me back, right? to my owners?” he quietly asked. the pain, the blood, the sound of the crowds cheering and chanting for a kill. he winced. he never wanted to kill them. he never wanted to hurt them. he did it to survive, to see another sunrise from his cage. 

jiyu furrowed her eyebrows. “if you don’t want to go back, then i won’t force you. although, i don't know where you would go after recovering. judging from your behavior, i can tell you didn’t have the brightest life, am i right?” 

hongjoong didn’t say anything, he just stared down at his clasped hands in his lap. taking his silence as a yes, she felt her heart ache. he’s like seonghwa and yunho. she felt her anger slowly rise. there’s some messed up people in this world, i swear i’m gonna track them down.

shaking the thoughts off, she looked at hongjoong again. “don’t worry, you’re safe here, i promise,” she reassured. “and if you feel uncomfortable in the slightest way, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

hongjoong observed the woman. it was amazing how easily she was willing to go to such lengths to help him. and for what? what was her motive? what would she get out of it? he suddenly remembered the two hybrids that was with her that day.

“your hybrids...” he started, unsure of how to word his question. what did you do to make them trust you so easily? he wanted answers. something, anything  that would put down the little bud of doubt and distrust inside. he didn’t want to be betrayed again.

“seonghwa and yunho?” she asked, taking a seat on the chair next to his bed. “what about them?”

he fidgeted with his tail. “...what did you do?” 

jiyu silently thought about his question. what did she do? she didn’t do anything special—she just did what she assumed anyone with a heart would do. care for them, love them, respect them. it’s just the basic manners. she wryly smiled. “nothing special or manipulating if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said. “you’d think it’s just basic manners to show hybrids some love and respect, but i guess not for everyone.”

she looked over the bandaging on his arm. “i don’t know how your life was like before ending up in the forest, but let me make one thing clear. not everyone in the world is the same. if every human out there truly was heartless, the world would’ve gone to shit a long time ago. someone had the idea of creating this hybrid recovery center. doesn't that go to show you that they want to help?”

hongjoong intently listened to her little tangent. while he wasn’t completely convinced, he could feel his heart and mind ever-so slowly open up to her words. 

“i won’t lie, it’s sad how one bad apple can spoil the whole tree,” she humorously laughed. “it takes one heartless person for hybrids to lose trust in us completely. i don’t blame you, though,” she mumbled.

with a small smile at him, she stood up from the chair. “all i’m saying is...give us a chance, yeah?” she felt deja-vu from that line. it was the same request she had asked seonghwa when they first met. “you can start with me since i’m your designated caretaker, then if and when you're ready, i’ll bring in more people, deal?”

what seemed like an eternity passed before hongjoong slowly nodded his head. “deal,” he quietly agreed, his orange and black tiger ears slightly twitching in anticipation. 

jiyu smiled, happy that he was slowly letting her in. “thanks, little tiger.”

hongjoong raised an eyebrow at her name for him. “little tiger?”

a mischievous and teasing look flashed across her face. “you just look so small and adorable on the bed,” she laughed. his cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he looked away, a pout unconsciously forming on his lips. 

“what was it about good humans you were talking about?” he mumbled to himself. but seeing her smile and radiating happy energy, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad. 

strange, he thought, how did she reduce me to a little cub in only half an hour?

glancing at the clock, her eyes almost bulged out of her head. “good god, i promised beomgyu i’d eat lunch with him!” she frantically yelped as she quickly gathered the paperwork and clipboard. she could already envision the golden-retriever’s pouting face while asking her why she was ten minutes late. “oh, right. are you hungry?” she asked hongjoong.

seeing him shake his head, she pursed her lips in thought. “well, it’s my lunch break right now. i’ll buy some food for you and bring it back when i’m on the clock again, okay? alright, i’ll see you in a bit!”

without giving him time to deny her offer, she sped walk out the door. hongjoong didn’t know how to react. one minute, she was seriously explaining to him that there was good in the world; then another minute, she became a clumsy girl that lost track of time. 

he scoffed. “if all good humans are clumsy like that, then what’s gonna happen to me?”

[mnictasbcl]

Wake up

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 10th: five stages of grief @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating:  Mature

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson, Gavin Reed

Relationships: Connor & Hank Anderson, Connor & Gavin Reed

Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Graphic Descriptions of violence, Gunshot wounds, Gun violence, Blood, Serious Injury, Guilt, Denial, Swearing, Grief, Not what you think it’ll be, Bargaining, Anger, Graphic medial description, Crying, :(, Coma, Medical coma, Depression, Talk of terminal stuff, Suicide, As in, mention of suicide, Suicidal thoughts, Hope, lots of talk about death, Surreal,

Summary: Hank takes a bullet for Connor. Things only go downhill from there…

 TW: Make sure to read the tags, this is a more heavy fic. Angst, gunshot wounds, gun violence, blood, graphic descriptions of injury/violence and medical description, a lot of mention of death, suicide reference/suicidal thoughts

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

 Connor couldn’t believe it had happened. Everything flew past so suddenly, motions and actions a blur, shouts numb to his ears, only focused on his partner, his friend, his father figure, going down in front of him.

A normal day on the force gone wrong. The suspect they’d been apprehending had had one last trick up his sleeve. They hadn’t realised he was connected to the red ice ring Hank had taken down all those years ago.

In hindsight, from the way the suspect just… let themselves get arrested, maybe they should have been expecting it.

All too willing to walk with them into the DPD, through the rows of desks, see the perp look towards Hank—Hank look back, notice the concealed weapon he drew, pushing Connor to the ground—

Something warm and sticky was sinking into his clothes, the android noted. But he hadn’t been hit. The blood wasn’t blue, it was red.

“Hank.” He uttered, short word broken, syllables distorted. He pushed the man onto his front, saw the gaping bullet hole in his chest.

“I’m…” The man began to choke out, hand reaching up, trying in vain to comfort. “Okay… son…”

“Hank!”

This time, the Lieutenant didn’t answer.

 ­______________

 They carted him off in a stretcher, and left Connor staring at the blood on his hands. If he’d been a human next of kin, maybe they’d have let him go along with him. But the waters surrounding android rights were still murky.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before someone from the force picked him up, made him wash his hands and drove him to the hospital.

Gavin, he noted dully, paying the man no attention on the drive there. He could scan his hands over and over, see them completely clean, but the blood was still there.

But it didn’t happen. Hank was just injured. It happened all the time. They’d stitch him up, Captain Fowler would send him home on bed rest for a few weeks, which he’d bitch and moan about but reluctantly agree to, along with help from Connor and Sumo.

The last time he’d bene injured, however, there hadn’t been so much blood.

Connor blinked, and he was in the waiting room. His LED spun a constant red, but his eyes remained vacant. He tried to push away the facts and figures about blood loss and bullet wounds to the chest that were clogging up his vision.

“He’ll, uh… he’ll be okay.” Connor heard Gavin try to comfort. He looked up with a strange expression on his face.

“No, he won’t.”

Gavin swore under his breath. “Phck. Just… stop looking at me like that, okay? I didn’t realise he meant so much to you before. Look, the doctors are gonna try their best.”

“He was shot in the chest, Gavin.”

He heard a scrape as the man sat on the hard plastic chair beside him.

“I know. Look—Anderson’s a tough guy. He’ll pull through.”

Connor could tell Gavin was trying to help. Maybe seeing his distress, helping him wash Hank’s blood off his hands as he numbly allowed him to do so, changed the man’s view about androids. Maybe he really was starting to care.

But Connor couldn’t care about that right now. And denial wasn’t helping. Sugar-coating the fact that Hank had been shot—shot in the chest—somewhere packed with vital arteries and organs and—

It wasn’t helping. He didn’t want this. Didn’t want Hank hurt, having nothing to do about it—Hank hurt pushing him out of the way of a bullet that had meant to hit him—

He pushed away Gavin’s words, standing abruptly from the chair.

“Just go away.”

“What?”

“I said, go away!” His voice, rarely heard above a calm and collected tone, rose to a shout. “Just go away! I don’t want to talk to you about this, Gavin! Just leave me alone.”

For the better or the worse, there was another dull scrape, before footsteps echoed down the hallway. Barely looking to see where he’d gone, Connor collapsed back into the chair with a sob.

 ______________

 After a while, he was allowed to see Hank. By some miracle, he’d survived, with extensive surgery.

But from the blunt trauma and levels of blood-loss, he’d fallen into a coma.

Connor had sat with him for the full length of visiting hours, only leaving to tend to Sumo back at home.

On the seventh day, where doctors gave him partially hidden pitying glances, he closed the door and sat alone with Hank and his thoughts.

“Maybe I could have saved you.” He whispered, hand grazing over the bedcovers, only briefly glancing at Hank’s still form, save for the mechanical rise and fall of his chest. “You shouldn’t have blocked the bullet, Lieutenant. I could’ve taken it. Or even if I couldn’t—that wasn’t yours to take.”

He pulled his hand back, ghosting it over his chest, where he used to have a tie on at all times to fiddle with and straighten.

“The doctors are saying that it will be lucky if you’ll ever wake up. There’s nothing more they can do. The damage was extreme… and…”

Connor cleared his throat, gently wiping a finger beneath his eyes. “At least you didn’t die. But—if you’re going to, how do I cope with it? You lived with it for years, every day weighing you down, with no one but Sumo to keep you company…

“If you do die, Hank, and leave me here alone—perhaps you taught me all along how to cope with this.”

The heart rate monitor was beeping steadily. But that was the issue- it wasn’t alive, it was just a machine, a machine out of all the machines that were keeping him alive—

That was more than he could have said for himself.

  Time merged together. One week became two. Two became four.

Connor sat beside his bed. He’d decided to stop counting the weeks. Debate over whether it was humane to keep Hank on life support was in hushed tones that the android could hear even with the door shut.

There had been one spike of hope, a few weeks ago, that had led to be nothing. Since then, Hank hadn’t deteriorated in condition, but he hadn’t gotten better, either. Nothing had changed. It was simply a state of frustrating limbo, stagnation, the ugly truth hiding around the corner but not yet ready to strike.

Connor couldn’t deny it anymore. He couldn’t bargain, couldn’t change the fates or shout at them—

But he could hope.

Hold onto Hank’s hand, eyes pleading, LED flickering yellow, the skin peeling away from his hand—

Of course the man couldn’t interface, but maybe the change in texture would mean something, maybe if he replayed their happy memories over and over he would finally wake up.

It didn’t work. The skin crawled back over his hand, and he instead took Hank’s hand in his in a firm but gentle grip.

“Please, Lieutenant. You have to wake up. You have to wake up.”

Without knowing it, the last words, all too familiar from the Revolution, rolled off his tongue in the same commanding way. Something beeped on the monitor beside him—his head snapped up, hope flickering in his eyes—

Before being sparked out by the sound returning to normal. Normality, machine-like and regular, nothing changing, everything the same and not realising its error until it is too late—

He held his hand tighter, shaking his head. He’d rose against this deformed normality; he could do it again. If he just tried… harder…

“Wake up. Please.”

With more force and vigour. This time, something was different. That beep, again, and then again, and—

And then it stopped. Not the mechanical regular beat of the monitor—but a high pitched whine, loud and whirring. He cried out, reaching towards it, grabbing at the wires, the ones connecting to Hank’s chest, before everything faded away to black.

   When Connor came back to consciousness, something was different. He was… floating. There was a vast blackness surrounding him on all sides.

He pushed through it. There was a pinprick of light, shining out from the far distance. But the darkness was thick and heavy, pushing through it like treacle that was attempting to hold him back.

He couldn’t fail. Something was riding on this. Something… important.

The light was so small, but he could just reach out and touch it with the tip of his finger.

And suddenly, upon that contact, it exploded into a supernova of colours. They burst out around him, a galaxy of whites and blues and reds—

And in the centre, was Hank. Laying ever so still, just as Connor remembered him…

Except, on the hospital bed, there were no more wires, no machines hooked up to him. And his eyes were open.

“Hank!” Connor called out, running up to him. But only a few inches away from the bed, and something stopped him. An invisible wall, some unknown force, denying him that contact.

“Connor.” The man replied. He was smiling, but it looked sad. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed but didn’t look like he was moving to come and greet him.

“How—”

“It’s fuckin’ good to see you, kid.”

Connor laughed breathlessly. “I agree, Lieutenant. But how did you—”

“That doesn’t matter.” He shrugged. “What matters is… how are you?”

The android blinked. “I am doing… inadequately without your companionship, Lieutenant.” He replied, words coming out oddly unfeeling for a moment. He shook his head. “I… I miss you.”

Hank tilted his head. “But- I’m just in hospital, Connor. I’m not dead.”

“You will be soon. The doctors—”

“Screw them, though. Well, they’ve been helping me, sure, but you don’t have to waste time worrying about what they say.”

“Wait, so you’re alright?”

Hank laughed. “No. I might die. But,” he continued on, changing the subject abruptly, “You don’t have to spend time worrying about me. Look, son… you have all your life ahead of you. A pretty long one at that. You have a relationship. Friends. Work. Don’t you just want to—move on?”

Connor blinked, then snapped out of his trance, pushing at the invisible force. “No! No. I… I have all of that, Lieutenant, but I don’t have you. You…”

“Not ready to let go then, yet, huh.” It was less of a question. That same sad smile came back. “I wasn’t either. But—look—”

“No. No, I’m not. And I’m not going to.” Whilst he had a feeling what Hank (or was it Hank?) was saying was important, he had a different sense of urgency about the situation. “You don’t get to go yet. Not now. I need you.”

The force became weaker, the gap between them shortening.

“No, you don’t. You’re a deviant now, Connor. You’re alive. You don’t need me to show you that anymore.”

“But I still need you. You mean a lot to me, Hank. And I’m not losing you.”

He tested on the force again, with one last shove, skin peeling back away, the raw strength of his hands shoving into the wall.

“Connor. Are you sure?”

The only response Hank got was the wall breaking away, and Connor tumbling forwards, straight into his arms—

   And with that, the real world came hurtling back into its full colour and shimmer. Something warm was beneath him, but not warm and sticky like Hank’s blood coating his clothes, staining his hands—

No, it was the warmth of his heart beating, really and truly beating this time, and the weak grasp of his arms wrapped around him.

“Hank?” He asked tentatively, eyes still closed.

  “…right here, son.” This time, Hank answered.

[zhydoesart]

ultimately i believe we’ll be okay

ships: romantic LAMP

word count: 2.4K

AO3

Summary: "It's so cliché to say these things, but repetition is a key / I think I'm better when I'm with you / But I worry when you're gone..." Being in his apartment alone gets to be too much for Patton. It gets to his head. But his boyfriends rush to the rescue, and while that doesn't fix everything, it does make Patton feel better.

the song lyrics used here are from a song called Ultimately by the artist Khai Dreams.

taglist: @moxiety-my-love @celeste-tyrrell @lavender-static @acompletemusicalnerd @treasureofpriam @bitteryjittery-andveryglittery @unicornofdarknessstuff @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear

Patton jumped, blinking as he resurfaced out of his thought-induced reverie. His phone vibrated a familiar pattern in his pocket, and despite having recognized said pattern, he still had to check the caller ID.

Virgil, it read. Patton smiled at the contact photo he'd chosen, a candid picture he'd taken of Virgil when the emo hadn't been looking. It was a pretty photo, and even though Virgil had raised a fuss, pouting as he demanded that Patton delete it, Patton had decided to keep it.

Although the picture was a little over a year old now.

He really needed more pictures of Virgil, huh?

"Agh, no," he said. "C'mon, Patton, don't get distracted! Answer the call, silly!" He swiped left.

Neither spoke right away, each waiting for the other to speak first. The only thing Patton could hear from his end was Virgil's slightly labored breathing.

"Hey, Virge?" he asked, concerned about the sound of the breathing and curious as to the reason for the call. "What's up? Something wrong?"

"I…" Virgil sighed. "I dunno. Sorry, I probably didn't need— didn't need to call you, I just needed— to, to hear your voice. It's stupid, I know. You know what, never mind."

"Wait!" Patton exclaimed, astonished. "Don't go, it's okay! You're not bothering me or anything, I promise." Virgil let out a relieved breath. "I was just thinking when you called, actually, I was feeling a bit lonely myself. With Roman out of town, and Logan staying with you…" Patton chuckled half-heartedly, deep blue eyes downcast.

"Speaking of," he changed the subject, "where is Logan? You wouldn't have called me if he were there, right?"

"That's not true," Virgil protested. "Although Logan is out right now, getting groceries, or whatever." There was a momentary silence as they each pondered what to would say.

"Do you need me to come over?"

"No, it's fine, Pat. You shouldn't have to go out of your way just to make me feel better. Besides, Logan'll be home soon."

Patton attempted to stifle first his disappointment that Virgil hadn't asked for him and second the irrational flash of jealousy and longing that came with Virgil referring to his and Logan's shared apartment as home.

None of them had a house big enough for their three boyfriends to move in, so for the moment, they were forced to split into pairs. One pair shared Patton's and Virgil's apartments at all times. Every so often (typically every few weeks), they'd shuffle around so they wouldn't have to miss each other for too long. That wasn't to say that they didn't practically live at each others' houses already, there simply wasn't enough space to live there full-time.

And now Roman had left town for a callback he was excited for. If he got the part, he'd be filming closer to home, but the callbacks took place in a studio a few hours away. It had only been a little over 24 hours now, but Patton had already begun to miss him. At the moment, Logan and Virgil were sharing Virgil's place while Roman stayed with Patton, but with Roman gone, Patton was all by himself.

Over the years, Patton had come to need constant validation to combat the self-deprecation and feelings of being alone that had come with his depression. Now, he could still receive that validation if he were to text Logan or Virgil, but he couldn't help the nagging sensation that he was bothering them.

"Patton?" Patton blinked, he'd been stuck in his own head again. Clearly Virgil had been talking, but Patton hadn't been listening.

"Sorry, Vee," he replied sheepishly. "I got distracted, I wasn't listening."

"Well, I was just saying that Logan's back now, so…" A rumble of a voice that was probably Logan's muttered something from next to Virgil, and Virgil agreed quietly. "Hey, Pat, I'm gonna give Lo the phone, okay?"

"Hello, Patton," greeted Logan warmly in his familiar dulcet tones, the kind of warmth that he reserved solely for his boyfriends, and Patton almost broke down right then. He took a shaky breath to steady himself before he could speak again.

"Hey, Logan." His voice cracked on the second syllable of his boyfriend's name, and Patton winced.

"Are you alright?" Patton grimaced. Logan sounded worried now, which meant he could tell something was up.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Patton wrung his hands, hoping the conversation would shift soon. "Nothing's wrong," he reiterated. Logan's silence was so pointed that Patton could practically hear his raised eyebrow.

Logan sighed, and Patton could imagine him running a hand absently through his smoothly gelled black hair. "If something was wrong, you would tell us, correct?"

"You know we won't judge," came Virgil's slightly muffled voice. "We've all been through some hard stuff, remember?"

"I… I don't know if I can…" Patton leaned against the counter top, suddenly feeling as if he couldn't get enough air.

"It's alright," Logan assured, and Patton could hear his smile, and suddenly it was too much.

He let out a strangled sob, clutching at his head.

"I… I'm sorry, I don't know what's— what's wrong," he said through tears, his chest heaving and eyes blurry.

"That's it." A clattering came from the other end of the line, almost as if someone had stood. "We're coming over there."

"No, no, you don't have to do— to do that," hiccuped Patton.

"Too late, we're coming!" said Virgil, sounding as though he was holding the phone once more. "Logan's gonna drive, I'm gonna stay on the line, okay? We'll be there in a few minutes, Patton."

Patton sniffled, smiling faintly through the tears that kept streaming down his cheeks. "Okay. See you soon."

Then there was the sound of, presumably, Logan and Virgil running down the stairs, which was unusual for Virgil and more so for Logan. Several doors slammed, and soon a car alarm beeped as said car unlocked.

"Hurry up, buckle up," snapped Logan briskly, and Virgil audibly dropped the phone (hopefully into his lap) as he fumbled with the buckle.

"Operation Cheer Up Patton is go, I guess," Virgil snorted into his phone. He lowered his voice. "Y'know, Logan is taking this very seriously. Of course, he doesn't know the name of the operation, but he started sprinting for the staircase before I'd even stood up!" Patton smiled; that he could imagine. While not a lot of things could motivate Logan to full-on sprint, his boyfriends were one of the few things that would.

"Whoa, shit!" Virgil swore with no warning. "Sorry, Pat, it's just— LOGAN! Jesus fucking Christ, slow down! At this rate, we're gonna crash!" He panted slightly. "Sorry, Patton. I know you don't like it when we swear, but now I know why we never let Logan drive! He drives like a maniac." Logan muttered something Patton couldn't hear. "Yeah, I don't care why we're speeding, Logan! I don't want to go to jail!"

"Virgil, what's going on?" Patton knew he sounded worried, but it didn't matter because he was.

"Sorry, Patton. I bet that was scary, me just yelling out of nowhere. It's okay, we're okay. Nothing happened. Logan's just a crazy driver, is all." The sounds of the car slowed, quieted, then came to a stop, probably as the car did. "Hey, we're here, we'll be right up."

Virgil didn't talk as he and Logan ascended in the elevator, but Patton listened quietly all the same. Right now he was latching onto the quiet sounds of his boyfriends' breathing as if for dear life.

The elevator dinged that familiar sound Patton had heard every day for years now, the sound that signaled that you'd reached your floor. Presumably, Logan and Virgil had stepped out.

"We're almost there," Virgil murmured into his phone. The sounds of… running?... soon started up again, stopping on the other side of Patton's door. "I'm here," he said as he opened the door, and Patton heard an echo for a moment until Virgil hung up the call.

Virgil was standing in his doorway, panting, face flushed, hair mussed, but Patton thought he had never seen anything more beautiful. Logan stood just behind him, face neutral as always, but the slight tilt to his eyebrows told Patton he was worried.

"Hey," Virgil said, a lopsided half-smile on his face. "You okay?"

Patton raised a hand to his face. He still seemed to be crying. "Better now you're here." He tried to laugh but it came out choked, and he wiped at his cheeks again.

Virgil hurried over to Patton, who still leaned on the counter to keep his balance. Logan soon followed, closing the door behind them as he approached. Virgil placed a gentle hand on Patton's face, using his thumb to further dry his face.

"What's wrong, Patton?" asked Logan. He took one of Patton's hands in both of his own and squeezed gently.

Patton sniffed. "I don't really know. It's the depression, I'm sure, but— I feel so alone sometimes, you know? Roman's gone and you're both staying at Virgil's, it's… hard for me."

Virgil was gazing at Patton like he was the only person in the universe, or the only one that mattered, anyway. His brown eyes were filled with such concern and compassion for Patton, and his hand felt pleasantly warm against Patton's skin.

On the other hand, Logan's gray-blue eyes were searching for something within Patton's own ocean blues, his hands colder than Patton's, but not unpleasantly so.

"Honey, that's not true." Logan lifted Patton's hand up to his mouth and very lightly brushed his lips against the back of Patton's hand. Patton barely suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down his spine. "You're not alone, I promise."

"You know you can talk to us," interjected Virgil, stressing the last three words. "You're not a bother, I worry about that too! It's alright, sunshine." His brows furrowed as he thought. "Why don't you stay with us until Roman gets back?"

"There's not enough space," argued Patton.

"We'll make space," Logan said firmly. "This matters to you, and therefore it matters to us."

"Okay," Patton said. He'd stopped crying, and he wiped at the last of the tears with the sleeves of his cat hoodie. He seemed vulnerable, and Virgil couldn't help but wrap his arms around his boyfriend. Soon he felt Logan's arms wrap around the both of them as well.

"Why don't we cuddle?" suggested Logan quietly into Patton's hair. The black-haired man usually didn't initiate contact, so this was a rare opportunity and they took him up on it immediately.

Patton's bed was warm and covered in a million pillows. Virgil shoved a few to the side so they could lie down. Patton positioned himself directly in between his boyfriends, tugging them closer to him.

"Is this helping?" asked Virgil.

Patton thought. "You know what, I think it is." He squeezed Virgil's hand and buried his face in Logan's chest. "It doesn't quite make up for Roman not being here, but it sure does help."

Something clattered in another room, and Patton frowned, sitting up to listen. He held a finger to his lips, and Virgil sat up to join him.

Keys jangled, and Patton stood slowly. Who could be in their apartment?

He crept over to the door, peering out cautiously—and was met with a welcome sight. That windswept brown hair, those bright green eyes; there was only one person it could've been.

"Roman?" slipped out of his mouth, and Roman turned to look at him, expression a little guilty.

"I'm back early. I meant to surprise you, mi alma." Patton loved that familiar lopsided grin of Roman's.

"How'd it go?"

Roman beamed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I got the part! They loved me!" Patton barreled towards him, throwing himself into Roman's arms, and Roman spun him around before setting him down. Their laughs met in the air, Roman's deep, hearty chuckle intermingling with Patton's higher giggle.

"You did it! I'm so proud of you, and I missed you," Patton murmured into Roman's lips, eyes closed.

Logan and Virgil now stood in the doorway, watching with loving eyes.

"We were just having a cuddle puddle. What do you say, Ro? Wanna join?" Virgil asked nonchalantly.

"Duh," was Roman's only response. "I'd never skip out on a cuddle puddle. But I've got an even better idea than doing it in bed." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Patton playfully smacked his arm. "Why don't we bring the blankets and pillows out here? Make a fort? Watch some movies?"

"That is acceptable," replied Logan, but the corners of his mouth had curled up.

"Yeah, sure," shrugged Virgil.

"That sounds great, let's do it!" exclaimed Patton happily, blue eyes glimmering excitedly.

It's possible that Patton jumpscared Logan by hiding in a closet while they were looking for pillows. And maybe Virgil tripped several times on the same leg of the couch on the way to and from the living room. Perhaps Roman and Virgil ended up arguing over who should get the Lilo & Stitch pillow.

It was a joint effort to position the couches so that they could drape several blankets over it. Logan and Roman pushed one couch while Patton and Virgil took the other. Out of the four of them, Roman worked out the most and was the most outwardly buff, but Patton, despite his lack of height and cuddly appearance, was also deceptively strong, as they'd learned when he'd taken to picking them up to princess-carry his boyfriends around their apartments.

Once the blanket fort was in place, Patton stood back to survey their work. Roman, on the other hand, didn’t wait even a moment to lie down, and Logan shook his head in mock exasperation before the other three joined him.

Patton ended up in the technical “center” of their cuddle puddle, although with four of them it was hard to tell where the center was. Still, amidst their tangled limbs, Patton felt safe there, with the three loves of his life.

Having his boyfriends with him certainly didn’t make his depression go away—nothing could do that, Patton had to heal—but it definitely helped to quiet the nasty little voice in his head that told him he wasn’t worth loving. Like this, with the fire in the fireplace and the sounds of Moana starting to play, embraced in his boyfriends’ arms, he could pretend he was all better. And for now, that’s really all Patton can do.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 12

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

Originally posted on my Ao3 Crystallclover (If you can’t find it here)

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7a | 7b | 8 | 9a | 9b | 10 | 11

Let me know what you think in the comments or my ask box.

Chapter 12: An Awkward Goodnight

You arrived back at your chambers, once inside Kylo removed his helmet and set it on the ashes. He no longer had your arm in his. This disappointed you—the lack of contact. He headed up the stairs to the bedroom and you followed.

He stood at the end of his bed awkwardly. You headed to your room, the door opened and you saw something in the room that wasn’t there earlier. A large bouquet of your favorite flowers was on the side table. You gasped turning toward Kylo, “Thank you. They are beautiful.”

You saw Kylo smile quickly before turning his head away from you. “You’re welcome. Goodnight.” You could see him trying to control his breathing. Taking deep breaths and seemed tense in his shoulders.

You shut the door to your room. Now alone for the first time all day you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. You gathered your thoughts for a moment. Before thinking too much you moved to your bag and got ready for bed. You grabbed the pajamas and headed to the bathroom. It looked relatively normal to you with a vanity sink, a toilet, a large bathtub and a separate glass shower.

Finishing preparing for bed you headed over to the bed. You quickly unpacked and moved things into the closet, knowing you wouldn’t be able to sleep if things were out of place. When finished you moved to get into bed, you messed with the panel off to the side of the bed until the lights turned off.

You hoped that this day wasn’t just a dream. A lot happened and you were trying to remember it all, just in case, it was a dream. You moved to lay on your side and just stared at the flowers until you fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up with the slowly brightening lights of your room, squinting you wondered what time it was because you realized you forgot to set an alarm. You jumped out of bed looking for your phone. You found it, saw it was at 10% and that it was 9:00 am. This was the latest you had slept in since starting your full-time job. You weren’t able to plug in your phone as there were no plugins and you weren’t getting any service anyways so it did not bother you.

You got up and got dressed, a sweater and a pair of jeans, the ship was cold so you felt it was justified. You made the bed and left the room. You noticed Kylo wasn’t in his room and made your way to the kitchen but before you could do that there was a junior officer in the main living space.

“Oh, hello! Are you looking for the Supreme Leader,” you asked the short brunette man.

“Oh no, I’m sorry my lady. The Supreme Leader has informed me that I am to be at your service today,” said the man nervously.

“Ok, and your name is,” you asked.

He flinched at this, knowing he was probably supposed to introduce himself, to begin with.

“I’m sorry my lady, my name is Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka,” he replied tightly gripping his hat in his hands.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant. I just woke up and have yet to have breakfast, have you eaten yet,” you ask.

The lieutenant seemed surprised by your question, “Yes ma’am I have, would you like me to help you order something?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” you could tell that he was prepared to meet a different type of person than you. At first, he seemed scared but now he seemed to relax a little bit. He pulled out a small data pad from his pocket.

“Is there anything in particular that you would like to eat,” he asked.

“What do you have that is similar to Earth food?”

At this question, he seemed to frown not knowing what you were asking exactly. “Do you have pancakes,” you ask.

“Yes! Would you like some,” he asked unsure.

“Yes, with maple syrup if there is any and more importantly is there coffee?”

“Yes, ma’am I will order some right away is there anything else you need ma’am?”

“Not at this moment. Thank you, Lieutenant.” With that, he punched in your order on the data pad and you walked over to the dining table. You invited him to sit. “The Supreme Leader said I may return to earth today if I want. How would I go about doing that?”

“Yes ma’am, the Supreme Leader has requested that you be guarded by General Pryde and Commander Pyre with a squad of stormtroopers. Of course, I am to be at your service.”

You were surprised at the amount of protection that Kylo seemed to deem necessary. But you just nodded at the lieutenant. The door to the mailroom opened and the same droid from last night appeared with your food. You thanked it before it left and it beeped at you in response.

“Do you have access to the Supreme Leader’s schedule,” you asked the lieutenant.

“Yes, ma’am. He is in meetings most of the day, but he had set aside sometime in the late afternoon for you. He told me that it would be your decision as to what you wanted to do with that time.”

You wondered if there would be enough time for him to meet Carter and Hayden. But you thought better of it for now. Not knowing how he would react to meeting them. Plus it sounded like you would be near Earth for a while since things were behind schedule. You finished eating.

“I think I would like to return to Earth. Could you let the Supreme Leader know, and ask him if there is anything he would like me to do while I am there?”

The lieutenant nodded and sent a message through the data pad. “The general is currently on the bridge, would you like me to message him that you would like to leave or would you like to go directly to him?”

“Go to him I think. Last night the Supreme Leader gave meh a tour but I wasn’t able to really figure out the hallways.”

And with that, you both were off down the winding corridors of the ship making your way to the bridge. Just like yesterday officers ducked off to the side for you and stood at attention until you passed. You and the lieutenant came to the bridge, once again silence fell over the officers. You could tell this made the lieutenant a bit anxious, but General Pryde made his way over to you.

“My lady, I am guessing you have made the decision to return to the surface,” said the general.

“Yes, I was told that I need your escort.”

“Colonel Kaplan, you have command of the Bridge until General Quinn gets here during the Beta shift,” said the general to an older looking officer. He nodded to the general.

You all left the bridge and went to the hangar. There you saw a small group of stormtroopers and one that was decked out in gold armor. He addressed you, “Ma’am, General, we are ready to descend to the surface. The Supreme Leader sent back his command shuttle for you to use my lady.”

Once again Kylo surprised you, and apparently the general and lieutenant who seemed a bit shocked that the Supreme Leader sent back his personal command shuttle for you. You just followed the commander and boarded the ship.

You all sat and buckled in with the lieutenant on your right and the general on your left.

“The Supreme Leader answered your question, he would like you to stop at the White House as he would like to see you,” said Lieutenant Mitaka.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” you responded and settling back into your chair bracing yourself for the flight. Part of you was giddy that Kylo requested to see you even though you knew his day was filled with meetings.

The shuttle landed right outside the White House and you disembarked the craft. Crossing the lawn you could see Kylo’s tall frame coming towards the ramp. You could see the officers and troopers around you pause slightly as they prepared to greet the Supreme Leader.

Kylo reached you and took your hand, quickly paused and acknowledged the officers and lead you into the White House. He took you into the same sitting room you were in the day before. The junior officer in the room quickly left and shut the door behind them. Kylo then removed his mask and turned to you.

“How was your morning? How did you sleep,” he asked earnestly still holding your hand.

“Surprisingly I slept well. I had a good morning so far, haven’t done anything other than have breakfast and see you,” you responded.

Kylo seemed slightly bashful at your answer. He let go of your hand for a moment, to remove his glove to hold it again. This time with skin on skin contact. His hand was large and warm, you could feel calluses and scars. The back of his hand was soft and his thumb slowly messaged your knuckles.

He was mesmerized for a moment before clearing his throat to say, “You asked if there is anything that I would like you to do. All I want is for you to be comfortable and happy.”

This made you smile, you stepped closer to him saying, “I am happy, I just want to know if there is anything I can do to help you with the First Order? I just hate thinking your busy while I just sit around doing nothing.”

You swore you could see the wheels turning in his brain, “Why don’t you sit in on the next few meetings with me? They may be boring to you, but you understand this planet better than anyone in the First Order, you may be able to offer some insight.”

“Ok,” you said smiling at your little victory, being able to spend some more time with him even though you would be in a room filled with other people talking about other things. You just wanted to be near him—to know him.

He let go of your hand to put his glove and helmet back on. He took your arm this time and lead you out of the room and down the hall to a conference room full of different world leaders. Maybe this isn’t what you thought it was going to be.

[toutorii]

Shirou laid his head down on his clasped hands, leg bouncing. His uncle patted his shoulder before he left to check up on his other students in the hospital. That was twenty minutes ago. The heart monitor being the source of the boy’s comfort and insanity. The constant beeping assuring him that his sister was still alive and with them, but also a looming threat that he could lose her at any moment. He wished that his brother could be there with him, to say something comforting or make a joke, or even to give him some fresh air. But that was impossible, the minute his elder brother breathes in the general vicinity of the hospital, police, and heroes would go haul him off to Tartarus.

His thoughts got interrupted by his sister scrunching up her face, interrupting her sleep. Shirou rushed to grasp her hand, and assure her that she wasn’t alone. Her eyes slowly opened and rested on her brother next to her. Shirou swore that she looked like an angel with the way the light-framed her hair and face. She made a little pout, and proceeded to say,

“It’s no fair that you’re such a pretty boy. Give me some of that,”

And for the first time in what seemed like weeks, Shirou’s chest grew tremendously lighter, laughter tickling this throat as he let out a small chuckle. The anxiety dispersed as he knew that his sister would be alright.

Honoka looked around the room, “So I see that my fire didn’t go haywire while I was asleep”

Shirou shook his head. Grateful that his sister hadn’t lost control of her powers while unconscious again.

“You just missed Shouta” The words sounded gravely, the lack of use taking a toll on his speech.

“Hi yes, I'm Shirou and I have been smoking for fifty years.” She joked, mimicking Shirou’s raspy voice. Before he could protest she continued, “But I missed Shouta? Darn…. Has anyone else been to visit?”

“Toshinori popped in for a little while with Midoriya, but they’re all heading back to school now. All that's left is us, Mirio and little Eri.” Honoka’s eyes lit up at the mention of the little girl’s name. Shirou knew how much she cared for her, and was glad to see a sparkle in her eyes for the first time in ages. “She’s alright, only needs a little more monitoring to make sure her powers don’t freak out again.”

And with that, they left the conversation and sat in comfortable silence. Shirou every once in awhile rubbing his thumb against the coarse burnt skin of Honoka’s knuckle, noting the way she looked longingly at the once smooth and healthy skin.

Three months. Honoka had been gone for three months. The overuse of her quirk being the reason her skin was set ablaze, and yet the reason it healed so quickly as well. It was so ironic Shirou could do nothing but laugh grimly when he heard the doctors explain the situation.

The sound of his sister’s voice shook him from his thoughts, “I heard the doctors saying that there was a high chance that I would never walk again,” Shirou squeezed her hand, his chest becoming tight as she continued, “but there's still a chance that I will walk again, right?’ Her voice broke at the end of her statement, tears filling her eyes.

Shirou gently caressed his thumb over her knuckle, trying to think of a way to reassure her without giving her false hope. Honoka noticed his dilemma and looked down with a sigh. The older of the two panicked, he didn't want to give her false hope, but he didn’t want to crush her spirits either. So instead he directed the conversation elsewhere. They talked about the leaves changing colour outside her window, about how he was doing with school and his internship, they talked about everything but their brother and the whole rescue mission. Eventually, a nurse came in and told Shirou that visiting hours were over, so he slung his bag over his shoulder, kissed Honoka on the head, squeezed her hand, and left the hospital room. The fact that she would break down and take down her strong facade after he was gone broke him. Nonetheless, he kept walking.

A few weeks later, the doctors had run various tests and determined Honoka’s powers stable. The therapy sessions she had been going to had helped her tremendously. Even if she still had relapses and her moments, she could function in society. So the doctors wanted to get her back on her feet as soon as possible, to try and have her be able to walk.

“Ms. Takahashi you need to take a break,” the doctor said while reaching her hand out to the collapsed girl. Honoka swatted her hand away, pulling herself up with the parallel bars determined to walk at least a meter more. Her legs had other plans and immediately gave out, causing her to fall again, prompting the doctor to again say, “Mr. Takahashi, you are taking a break, you won’t get anywhere collapsing.” At this point Honoka started to tear up with frustration, her legs were as useless as a charger that didn’t charge. They had been working for a month and so far she couldn't walk three meters without falling, and that's with her leaning on the bars like her life depended on them.

“...why?” the young Takahashi choked out.

“Why what, dear?”

She punched the cold, smooth floor, “Why won't the damn things do their job? I haven’t made any progress in a whole month? Why?”

“Ma’am, you're making incredible progress, these things just take time,”

“I-” the doctor interrupted her again.

“Listen to me. You haven’t given up yet, have you? You are so strong, and I don’t care if you can barely walk two meters, that is progress.” Honoka sniffed and looked at the woman. “Remember when we started? You couldn’t stand without collapsing out of breath.” The woman grabbed Honoka’s hands, “That's called progress”.

“Name….”

This took the doctor by surprise, “eh?”

“What- what's your name? I- I never g-got it”

“Giran, but you can call me Mai if you want.”

“Only if you quit with the Ms. Takahashi stuff,” Mai smiled and nodded her head.

Honoka then hoisted herself up from the ground, arms shaking and sweat covering her face, declaring that she wants to try once more. Mai sighed in disapproval, saying how she should rest, but Honoka ignored her with a look of determination.

<><><><><><><><><>

Resting in her hospital bed, a nurse knocked announcing that there was a visitor. Honoka looked towards the door, wiping her eyes. She told the nurse to let them in, curious to see who visited her. The door opened revealing a small gray-haired girl. Honoka immediately made herself look more perked up to not worry the young girl.

"Eri! What brings you into here?" Fake a smile, fake a smile, fake a smile-

Eri pulled herself onto the bed and sat next to the older girl's legs. Fiddling with her hospital gown she said, "Deku and Lemillion gave me a tour of your school yesterday," Midoriya and Mirio "And they talked about a festival..." Honoka cocked her head to the side, confused about her hesitation.

"Do you not want to go to the festival? If so that's perfectly alri-"

Eri shook her head, "No that's not it...." she took in a breath, "I was wondering if you are going to the festival......."

All air left Honoka's lungs at that moment, all her attention focused on not conveying any of the panic going on inside her. Could she go to the festival? She still got tired wheeling herself from her room to the exercise area. How could she manage to survive a whole-

"Yeah. If you want me there, I'll be there." Fake a smile, fake a smile, fake a smile.

Even if she didn't smile at those words, Eri visibly perked up, making Honoka's inner turmoil just a little more bearable.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Knees slamming onto the smooth tile took the rest of the pink-haired girl’s strength. Mai rushed to help her get into the wheelchair.

"Well, Ms. Ta- I mean, Honoka. You have been making amazing progress building your strength back up. I think we should call it a day for now though-"

"No." Honoka interrupted. "The festival is in a few days, I have to be strong enough to get through the day."

"But Honoka, you were severely injured. You can't expect yourself to be up and walking just a few weeks after you were healed"

She knew this. She knew that it would take a miracle for her to be walking by the point of the festival. It didn't stop her from trying though. Before, she would have laughed at the challenge. Ignoring anyone who would tell her that she couldn't do it. But Honoka soon learned that girl was dead, and she might never come back. Even so, the desire to see Eri happy motivated her to keep going. Nothing mattered to Honoka except seeing that girl smile.

"You still have a few days to keep building your strength. Don't get too upset." Mai said, trying to comfort the teenager. Honoka nodded and slowly wheeled herself out of the room.

<><><><><><><><><>

Shirou walked up to the gray door with "Takahashi, Honoka" written on it. Lifting his hand to knock before hearing his sister's voice. She was talking to someone else, the doctor, Shirou assumed. He waited until a tall man who looked oddly like Yoshi in a white coat walked out of the room. The pink-haired boy walked into the hospital room with the flowers in hand. He smiled at his sister, put the bouquet on the table, and sat in his usual chair next to the bed. Noticing his sister's lack of cheer worried the boy. So he grabbed her hand, gently rubbing her knuckle with his thumb. He knew that if she wanted to tell him what happened, she would say.

"The doctor said that I wouldn't be able to grow my wings back. They're gone. Forever. I-" she broke down into tears, gripping her brother's hand. Shirou was still processing the information. His sister? Having her wings taken from her? Suddenly anger flared up in him. Honoka had already been through enough, that angered him, yes. But what actually riled him up is that he couldn't do anything to help her. He was useless, a word he was becoming extremely familiar with recently. His sister's quiet crying reminded him of what was important at that moment. So he just let her cry and express all the emotions she needed until her tears had run dry. When Shirou got ready to leave, Honoka was passed out, the emotional rollercoaster taking a toll on her. So he just smiled sadly at her, kissed her forehead, and squeezed her hand gently. Wishing he could take away her pain and endure it himself.

The next morning Honoka was awakened by a nurse telling her it was time to get ready for the day. This greatly confused Honoka, because, for the past seven weeks, all she has done was eat, go to therapy, and watch tv. Only after the nurse brought in some clothes for her to wear did she remember what day it was. She carefully pulled on the jeans and sweatshirt, still sore from the therapy session the day before. She looked over at the flowers Shirou brought, all nice and put into a vase. She wanted to properly thank him for the gift when she saw him again. Sliding off of the bed into the wheelchair beside her, she texted Mirio, asking him where to meet up. He replied quickly telling her that a car would pick them up in front of the main entrance. With the newfound information, she wheeled herself to the elevator.

"So Eri, are you excited?" The cheerful blonde asked once they got into the car. The young girl just nodded her head, squeezing Honoka's hand. The older girl looked towards her senior and nodded. They both were determined to make this one of the best days in Eri's life.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

"Are you not going to see the performance Noka?" Eri asked when she realized that the pink-haired girl wasn't following them into the concert venue.

"I'm afraid that this wheelchair would get in the way, besides, Mirio can only hold one of us at a time." Honoka answered, "But don't worry, I'll be able to watch it from up here."

That seemed to be enough to persuade her to go with Mirio, as she took his hand and walked into the packed room. Honoka stared at the two, wishing she could go with them.

When the concert started, Honoka was in awe. The music brought up so many emotions that she didn't know were buried. Sadness, frustration, but also inspiration and happiness, were all things that she felt during the performance. By the end of the song, her emotions were so fried that she could only stare at the stage. Only when a little hand touched hers did she snap out of her shock.

She turned her head towards the person beside her and was greeted with a bright, smiling face.

"Noka! Noka! Noka! Did you see? The singer? She was like waaah," She raised her hands above her hands, "and- and the dancers were like woosh!" She started spinning in a circle, "And the sparkly dude was like nyooom!"

Honoka let out a laugh. A real, genuine laugh. A sound that no one had heard in ages it felt like. All the stress, anxiety, and sadness were all expelled from her chest. She smiled at the girl. Not a fake smile like all the other ones. No, this was a real smile. A smile that the eyes crinkled and just radiated pure joy. Eri climbed into Honoka's lap, and when she did, she was met with a bone-crushing hug. In Honoka's mind, if Eri could be happy, then there was hope in this world.

The rest of the festival went by smoothly. Eri wanted to do absolutely everything it seemed like. She dragged Mirio, Honoka, and later Midoriya and Shirou, to all the stalls that the different classes set up.

When they got back to the hospital, Honoka changed back into her hospital gown and got into her bed. And for the first time in months, she went to sleep without any fears of tomorrow.

Writing tag list: @kingdoms--night--star @jovialnoise

[unfolded73]

My Heartbeat Shows the Fear (2/4) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: A canon divergent story: Patrick gets into a car accident and it brings the Brewers to town sooner.

Notes: This fic will be posted in 4 chapters, every other day. There is some description of injuries, but nothing too graphic or life-threatening.

The title is from “Overkill” by Colin Hay, which thanks to the show Scrubs puts me in mind of hospitals.

Thank you to Amanita_Fierce for putting so much time and thought into betaing this fic - you made it so, so much better. And thanks also to @high-seas-swan for some helpful suggestions, particularly on that one scene that I tore apart and rewrote.

Rated Teen, this chapter 5714 words. (ao3)

Chapter 1

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

Chapter 2

Patrick first became aware of a constant, irritating beeping noise. He blinked his eyes open, his eyelashes crusty with sleep. Oh right, he thought as he took in his surroundings. He was in the hospital. It seemed like no time at all had passed since they told him that he was supposed to go into surgery for his arm. Was the surgery already over?

He looked down and saw his arm enclosed in bandages and a splint. Guess that's a yes to the surgery, he thought. The pain he remembered when he’d regained consciousness after the accident was gone, fortunately, numbed by what he assumed were some powerful drugs. He would have almost preferred some pain to this complete numbness.

Patrick had thought of himself as pretty unflappable when it came to getting injured — as a teen he’d suffered cuts that needed stitches more than once, and the sight of his own blood hadn’t really phased him. Once he’d suffered a ligament tear and knee dislocation playing hockey, and the sight of his leg bending the wrong way had been pretty grisly, but he’d still managed to joke around with his coach while he was being carried off the ice on a stretcher. None of that compared to the sight of his own broken bone protruding through the skin of his arm. That had triggered a visceral reaction, a deep, inborn knowledge from his hindbrain that screamed: this is very wrong! The paramedic in the ambulance had covered it with a bandage to keep any more dirt from getting into the wound, mercifully shielding it from Patrick’s eyes. The pain had been intense, though. ”He’s in shock,” he remembered the paramedic saying as he swam in a viscous soup of cold sweat and nausea and agony.

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked over to his right side and saw David sleeping on the pull-out sleeper chair in the corner of the room. He was still in his clothes, but he’d taken his shoes off and lined them up neatly next to the chair. The sight of David’s shoes brought a swell of emotion to Patrick’s chest.

“David,” he said. His voice was raspy, and he was suddenly aware of how thirsty he was. “David,” he repeated, louder.

David started up, lines on his cheek from the pillow under his face and his hair sticking up on one side. It made Patrick want to hug him.

“You okay? Need me to call a nurse?” David asked.

“No. Is there water?”

David nodded, standing up and grabbing a cup with a bendy straw off of a small rolling table. He brought it over, carefully directing the straw so that Patrick could take it in his mouth and suck down some of the water. It made him feel uniquely helpless, being tended to like this.

“How long have you been here? What time is it?” Patrick asked.

David glanced at the clock. “It’s 2:30 in the morning.” He pulled his sleeper chair closer and sat on it, taking Patrick’s right hand in his.

Patrick frowned. “How long was the surgery?”

“A couple of hours. Do you not remember when they brought you out of recovery?” David asked, the first hint of a smile that Patrick had seen flitting over his face.

“No. The last thing I remember was them prepping me for surgery,” Patrick said.

Now David almost laughed. “In your defense, you were very high when you first came out of anesthesia.”

“What did I say?”

“Well, you swore a lot, which was very out of character. And you said I was handsome several times.”

“You are handsome,” Patrick said with a smile.

“And now all of your nurses know it.” David squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember that.” It sounded embarrassing, but he still would have liked to see a video of it — of himself high as a kite and gushing about his sexy boyfriend to anyone within earshot. He squeezed David’s hand back.

“Mm, don’t be. You threw up and you kept saying your ears were ringing and I might’ve gotten a bit… testy… with one of the nurses when she said it wasn’t anything to worry about.”

“My hero,” Patrick sighed fondly.

“How are you feeling now?”

Patrick tried to assess how he was feeling. He had flashes of more memories — agonizing pain when he was in the ambulance and when they put in him the CT machine, but now there was little more than a dull ache. “Not bad, actually.”

“Yeah, you’re on the really good drugs,” David said, pointing up to an IV bag. “Morphine, I’m pretty sure. Also some antibiotics, but it’s the morphine that’s relevant here.”

“That explains it.” Patrick lifted his uninjured arm and tried to smooth down David’s unruly hair. “Thanks for staying here with me.”

“They would have had to drag me out of here,” David said, his voice cracking with emotion. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault; it was the other driver’s fault.” David reached up and stroked a hand over Patrick’s forehead and cheek. “Do you remember the accident?”

Frowning, Patrick tried to probe his memories, and while he did so the automated blood pressure cuff around his arm filled up, squeezing his bicep almost to the point of pain before exhaling in a long hiss. “Not the impact. I remember flashes of being extracted from my car and put in an ambulance. Some stuff from when they first brought me in here.” He looked down at his arm. “I remember my arm looking really not good.”

David winced. “Yeah. Well, look at it this way: you’ll probably have a very manly scar when all this is over.”

“The car,” Patrick said. “I had all the products from the Mennonite farms in the car.” He knew insurance would cover the losses, but he still felt a stab of guilt that he’d caused some of their precious merchandise to be lost. It would take time to replace, time during which they couldn’t earn any money from the sales. He wanted to kick himself for not watching more closely at that intersection. He’d seen someone run that stoplight before. He should have been more careful.

Shaking his head, David said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“David—”

“Let me worry about it,” David said.

“You should go home and get some sleep.”

‘Not a chance. Besides, Alexis drove me here and I sent her home a while ago, so you’re stuck with me until she comes back in the morning.” He lifted Patrick’s hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. David’s eyes were suspiciously wet. “Also I may never let you out of my sight again.”

“I love you,” Patrick said.

“I love you more,” David replied, “as evidenced by me sleeping on this thing.” He pointed at the sleeper chair. “It makes me long for my bed at the motel.”

Patrick felt an itch between his shoulder blades, and shifted his body in an attempt to scratch it. A spike of pain shot through his side. Broken ribs, he remembered. Right. “Ow.” He chuckled uneasily. “This is going to put a real damper on our sex life.”

David leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you try to get some more sleep? Your parents are going to be here in the morning.”

“My… what?”

His face cracking into a yawn, David answered, “I called your parents while you were in surgery. It seemed serious enough that they needed to know.”

Patrick’s heart began to race, which unfortunately he could hear echoed in beeps from the machines behind him. David noticed too, his eyes flicking up briefly to the monitors before looking back at Patrick’s face. Mind racing, Patrick tried to sit up, and another lightning bolt of pain kept him from executing that maneuver. “What did… what did you say?”

“That you’d been in a car accident and your arm was being operated on.” David’s face betrayed his confusion. “Patrick, I know you’re not super close with your parents but they needed to know that you’d been hospitalized.”

“Yeah, I know, but… David.” This was the worst case scenario, the thing that he’d hoped to avoid David ever knowing. If he could have just gotten up the courage to tell his parents the half dozen times he’d almost managed it, then David would never have had to know that he wasn’t out to them. That he was keeping his relationship with David a secret.

Well, there was no hiding it now. Patrick looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, steeling himself, before meeting David's concerned gaze. “I have to tell you something.”

David frowned. “What is it?”

“I’ve… I haven’t told my parents about the fact that we’re… together. I’m not out to them.”

“Oh.”

Patrick winced at the hurt on David’s face. “I wanted to tell them, I did, but then I didn’t go home for Christmas, and it’s just hard to… I don’t know how to say it, over the phone. I can’t get the words out.” He swallowed around a lump in his throat. “David, I’m sorry—”

“Mm mm, no. Don’t apologize.” David squeezed his hand and then kissed his fingers again, his facial expression difficult to read. The hurt wasn’t in evidence anymore, but perhaps because David was doing a better job of hiding it. “Coming out is very personal, and it’s something you should only do on your terms. Okay?” His mouth slanted to the side. “That’s why I brought this couple home from college one time and just told my parents to deal with it.”

Patrick chuckled in relief at the way David was trying to lighten the mood, but just as quickly his guilt rushed back to the surface. “I’m not ashamed of you, David. I promise I’m not.”

David’s lips quirked up. “Yes, that was obvious from the way you talked to the nurses about me when you were high.” He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “When your parents get here, I can just be… your business partner.”

His gut instinct was to say no. That wasn’t fair to David, or to what they meant to each other. But then he imagined it, lying here in a hospital bed, in pain and a little bit high on opiates, his arm in a splint, looking up at his parents towering over him and telling them he was gay. That he and David were boyfriends. It was an agonizing mental picture.

“Maybe… maybe just for tomorrow?” Patrick asked in a small voice. He sounded pathetic to his own ears. He looked up at the IV bag. “For one thing, I’d prefer to be sober when I do the whole coming out speech.” It was an attempt at a joke, but it wasn’t untrue. He didn’t feel like he was in any kind of mental shape to talk to his parents about his sexual orientation or his relationship with David right now.

Patrick couldn’t help but notice that David had pulled away from him a little bit, but he still had an encouraging smile plastered on his face. “That makes total sense. Don’t worry about that for right now. Just focus on healing, okay?”

Patrick reached out, putting his hand around David’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered against David’s lips. “So much.”

David gave his shoulder a little pat when he pulled away. “Let’s try to get some more sleep, okay?”

“Yeah.” Patrick felt exhausted from just the half hour he’d been awake. “Okay.”

He watched as David resettled himself on the sleeper chair, twisting and turning before finally settling down and facing the wall. When Patrick finally fell asleep, his last vision was of David’s back, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath.

~*~

When the Lincoln pulled up in front of the hospital, David was outside waiting for it. He’d spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, noticing every time Patrick shifted in his fitful sleep, and then was woken for good at six in the morning when a new nurse came on shift and stopped in to check Patrick’s vitals and replace his IV bag. Patrick, meanwhile, was in more pain than when he’d awoken the first time, and he was in a mood to match. Alexis finally called to say she was ten minutes away, so David kissed Patrick’s cheek and told him he’d be back later and escaped.

He felt grimy, still in yesterday’s clothes, aware of his own body odor in a way that he absolutely despised. He walked over quickly to the car, wrenching the door open and collapsing into the seat.

“How’s Patrick?”

“Awake and coherent and cranky,” David said. “I told the nurse he needed to up his morphine, but they don’t listen to me.” He tilted his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

“You’re so sweet to stay by his bedside all night, David.”

He whipped his head around, looking for a sign that his sister was making fun of him, but her face was impassive as she concentrated on driving.

“Well, I couldn’t just let him wake up alone in the hospital. Can you imagine?”

“Yes, it happened to me in Singapore,” she said. “Also in Portugal, I think it was? Anyway. I’m glad he’s okay.”

“His arm is being held together with bandages and pieces of plastic and he’s in a lot of pain, but sure. He’s right as rain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have left then,” Alexis said.

David gestured emphatically down at his clothes. “If I can’t get out of these clothes and into a shower soon, then I might literally have a panic attack.” He turned and looked out the window at the passing fields. “Besides, his parents will be here in about an hour, his mom said.”

“Meeting the parents, David!” Alexis said, and he turned in time to see her execute an exaggerated series of blinks that seemed dangerous to do behind the wheel of a car. “I guess you do want to be freshly showered for that.”

He huffed. “I have to open the store this morning. I’ll meet them later.”

“David, no,” Alexis gasped, “you should go back to the hospital. Stevie and I can cover the store for a few hours. I talked to her about it when I got back last night.”

“I can go back tonight after work. His parents will be there with him,” David said, his stomach in knots, exhaustion weighing heavy on his limbs.

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, David.”

Sighing, David rocked his head back to knock against the headrest several times. “Patrick’s not out to his parents. They don’t know we’re together.”

Alexis bared her teeth like that Chrissy Teigen meme. “Oh, David. Yikes.”

“I know. So being at the hospital means that I have to pretend to just be his business partner, and I don’t know if I have the emotional fortitude to do that right now when he almost died yesterday.” He turned and stared out the window again. “Can we not talk about it anymore?”

Alexis didn’t say anything, but she reached over and patted his shoulder in what he guessed was supposed to be sympathy. They drove the rest of the way back to Schitt’s Creek in silence.

By the time David was showered and dressed and had his hair in order, he felt almost human, and he was resigned to not seeing Patrick again until the evening. He stepped out into his and Alexis’s room only to see Alexis and Stevie standing there between the beds. They turned to him and folded their arms, determined looks on their faces.

He pulled up short, indignant. “What?”

“We’re going to look after the store for you,” Stevie said flatly. “You are going back to the hospital.”

“Patrick needs you, David,” Alexis said.

“Patrick doesn’t need me lurking around, making his parents wonder why his business partner is being so emotional,” David said, turning to the mirror and probing gently at the skin under his eyes. His lack of sleep was painfully obvious on his face.

“I’m sure he’ll tell his parents once he’s gotten his bearings. But in the meantime, he needs to know you’re standing by him,” Stevie said.

“That is a lot of sincere emotion coming out of your mouth, Stevie. Did you hit your head?”

“Fuck off,” Stevie said.

“You could also go by Patrick’s apartment and pick up some of his stuff,” Alexis said. “If he’s going to be stuck in the hospital, he’s going to need some comfy pajamas, and some changes of underwear. And a book or something.”

Okay, even David had to admit that was a good idea. He blew out a breath and crossed his arms, mirroring Stevie. “Are you sure you can handle the store?”

“Ugh, David, we’ve done it before,” Alexis said, stomping her foot. “Now go!” she said, shooing him out the door.

“Wait, I need you to do something else for me,” he said. “Can you contact the police and find out where his car was taken? I need to see if any of the things in it are salvageable.”

Stevie nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”

He made a quick stop at the apartment and packed a duffel bag for Patrick: pajamas, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, underwear, a book from Patrick’s nightstand, and his toiletries from the bathroom. He packed Patrick’s phone charger, although he wasn’t sure if his phone had survived the crash. He started to put in Patrick’s favorite hoodie, but then he remembered that Patrick might not be able to get anything long-sleeved over his arm. Instead he grabbed the afghan from the back of the sofa, figuring that would have to do if Patrick was chilly in his hospital room.

The nurse at the front desk of Patrick’s floor recognized him, waving him through. It occurred to him that after yesterday, one of the nurses could inadvertently out Patrick to his parents.

David’s first impression of Patrick’s parents was of blue sweaters. I guess that’s where Patrick gets it, David thought as he hesitated in the doorway to Patrick’s room. The Brewers were standing by his bedside, his mother touching the top of his head affectionately. It was a perfect family tableau that he was loath to interrupt, but he couldn’t exactly linger in the hall all morning.

“Hey,” he said, stepping hesitantly into the room. “I’m David Rose,” he said by way of introducing himself. His eyes drank Patrick in, cataloging again the small cuts on his face. His instincts told him to go over to Patrick, to touch him, but he couldn’t do that now. Instead he stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed like an alien who didn’t know how to exist in the presence of humans.

“David! I’m Clint Brewer,” Patrick’s father said, holding a hand out for David to shake. David shifted his bag over to the other arm and suffered the overly firm handshake Clint gave him.

“And I’m Marcy. David, thank you for calling us last night.”

“Of course.” He turned to Patrick. “I went by your apartment and packed some…” He panicked. Was knowing where Patrick kept his things a tell? I mean, it wasn’t a big apartment; he probably could have figured it out even if he wasn’t over there all the time. “Some stuff for you.”

Patrick gave him a fond look. “Thanks.”

David fixated on the least intimate thing in the bag. “I grabbed your phone charger, but then I wasn’t sure if you even have your phone.”

“Yeah, I have no idea where it is. Still in the car, probably, and who knows where that is.”

“Stevie is looking into it,” David said.

“Thank goodness Patrick has you, David,” Marcy said, holding her hands out for the bag, so David surrendered it to her.

David met Patrick’s eyes, and then quickly looked away. “I’m just trying to be a nice person, Mrs. Brewer.”

Patrick snorted, suppressing a laugh.

A doctor David hadn’t seen before breezed into the room and picked up Patrick’s chart. “How are we feeling today, Mr. Brewer?” he said as his eyes scanned over the chart.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Patrick muttered.

The doctor moved over toward Patrick’s injured side, forcing David to step out of the way. He watched with morbid fascination, unable to avert his eyes, as the doctor examined Patrick’s arm, then his side where presumably his broken ribs were. David caught a glimpse of terribly bruised skin under Patrick’s hospital gown, and he flinched. Pain was evident on Patrick’s face.

“No sign of infection; that’s what we are concerned with most with this kind of injury, so that’s a great sign,” the doctor said. He then checked Patrick’s pupils and asked him a few questions, making some notes before clicking his pen and putting it away. “Did they explain the surgery to you yesterday, Mr. Brewer?”

Patrick nodded. “Sure. That it had to be done quickly to prevent infection.”

“Right. We did what’s called an open reduction and internal fixation in this case. Metal rods were inserted which will allow your bone to fully heal.”

“Metal rods?” David asked, and then worried about how worried he sounded. Business partners shouldn’t sound so worried, he thought.

“How about that, you’ll get to set off the machine every time you fly,” Clint said, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s routine,” the surgeon said, putting Patrick’s chart back on its hook. “If you continue to show no sign of infection tomorrow and the wound is healing well, we’ll go ahead and put a cast on it so that you’ll be able to move more freely.”

“Am I going to regain full use of my arm? I play baseball and—”

“And guitar,” David interjected, his stomach queasy at the idea that Patrick might never be able to play again.

The surgeon smiled. “Well, you’ll definitely be on the disabled list for the rest of the season, but there’s no reason that with a little bit of rehab you won’t be able to do everything you’re used to doing after a few months.” He gave Patrick a corny thumbs-up gesture. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “How much longer before I can go home?”

“Well, that’s for the attending physician to decide, but I’d say tomorrow is a distinct possibility.”

“Thank you so much,” Marcy said as the surgeon gave them a wave and rushed out of the room as quickly as he’d rushed in.

David wasn’t sure what to do. There was no reason for him to stay now that he’d delivered Patrick’s belongings, and if he did stay, Patrick’s parents would probably wonder why.

“Is the store closed?” Patrick asked him. He had dark circles under bloodshot eyes, David noticed. He could probably use some more sleep.

“No, Alexis and Stevie are there,” David said.

“That’s your sister, and…” Clint asked.

“And my best friend.”

“Well, it’s very nice of them to help out,” Marcy said.

“Yeah.” David fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. “So I should go…”

“Do you have a hotel booked here in Elmdale?” Patrick asked his father.

“Not yet; we came straight here. I guess we need to find a place before we collapse,” Clint replied.

“Actually, I had an idea,” Marcy said, “if you don’t mind, sweetheart.”

“What?” Patrick asked.

“One thing you’re going to need when you get out of the hospital is food that’s easy to heat up. I was thinking we could stay at your apartment and I could use the kitchen to make you some meals and fill up your freezer before you get home.”

“Mom, you don’t have to do that—”

“Patrick, I want to. There isn’t a lot we can do to help, but I can at least do that.”

Patrick looked at David, and all David could do was shrug. It sounded like a good idea, actually, but he could also think of a few reasons why Patrick wouldn’t necessarily want his parents spending time unsupervised in his apartment.

“I can take them to your place, and… straighten things up.” David said, looking at Patrick pointedly to make sure he understood his meaning.

“Oh, we don’t care how messy it is,” Marcy said. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

“No, that’s a good idea,” Patrick said.

“It’s no trouble,” David added. “It’s on my way back to work. You can follow me in your car.”

“Thanks, David,” Clint said, clapping him on the back.

“Is there anything else we can do for you this morning, sweetheart?” Marcy was still at Patrick’s side, stroking his hair. David felt a stab of jealousy that he couldn’t stroke Patrick’s hair right now. Or kiss him.

“No, I’m good. I’m just going to get some more sleep, I think,” Patrick said.

“I… um… brought the afghan from your apartment.” David gestured toward the duffel. He wanted to spread it over Patrick’s legs, to tuck him in securely, but instead he stood to the side and watched Patrick’s mother doing it. Then he had to settle for a little wave as the three of them left Patrick’s hospital room.

“I’m just going to run to the restroom before we go,” David said, already pulling out his phone before he’d cleared the door to the men’s room.

911, he texted to Stevie. Need you to go to Patrick’s apartment and remove any evidence of our relationship IMMEDIATELY. There’s a spare key in the top drawer of the desk in the back of the store.

Stevie: why?

David: I’m bringing the Brewers over there. We’ll be there in 40 minutes.

Stevie: check. what should i be on the lookout for?

David: Photos, mainly. And there’s a shelf with some of my clothes on it.

He groaned to himself and then added, Make sure we didn’t leave lube out anywhere. Like the bedside table or on the floor next to the bed.

Stevie: gross. if I have to pick up a used condom, you’re going to pay.

David: What kind of animal do you think I am??? Although maybe also empty the trash. Thanks, I owe you.

She didn’t respond to that, but he’d have to assume she’d get the job done.

Stevie dispatched on her errand of subterfuge, he returned to find the Brewers in the lobby. “I’ll be driving an enormous black boat of a car; you can’t miss it,” David said to them as they walked out into the sunshine.

Once they were on the road, David’s attention bounced from the road to his speedometer to his rearview, making sure the Brewers were still behind him. By the time they got to Patrick’s apartment building, he was a tight ball of tension.

He had a text from Stevie waiting for him when he picked his phone up and looked at it. mission accomplished. who needs that many kinds of lube? im mentally scarred and also very curious.

“This seems like a nice neighborhood,” Marcy said, looking around.

David thought about the recycling bin he’d seen a couple of times outside the building that was full to overflowing with liquor bottles, and about the couple downstairs who had screaming fights on Saturday nights, but didn’t think either of those were anecdotes he should tell, particularly because they would indicate how much time David had spent in Patrick’s apartment already. Instead he just agreed noncommittally as he led them up the stairs.

It was only as he stuck his key in the lock that he realized that having Patrick’s spare key was one thing, but having it on his key ring with his keys to the store and his room key at the motel was quite another. He winced as he opened the door, hoping they hadn’t noticed.

“So this is Patrick’s place,” he said unnecessarily, his eyes straying to the mantel and then to the desk. Stevie had done her job — the photos of him were gone. His eyes raked over the shelving next to the bed and zeroed in on the shelf where he’d had a couple of sweaters and a pair of jeans. It was empty.

“It’s not very big, is it?” Clint laughed. “But Patrick never has been someone who kept a lot of things.”

David wanted to agree vehemently — the only reason the apartment didn’t look much more spartan was David’s influence — but he bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “So here’s the key,” he said, unclipping it from his keyring and handing it over. So much for not drawing attention to his key ring, he thought. “There’s a grocery store, Brebner’s, that’s not far away. And you can get fresh produce at our store,” he added, which made Marcy’s eyes light up. “I should change the sheets for you,” he said, turning to the bed.

“We can do that, David. You don’t have to trouble yourself.”

“Nope! It’s no trouble,” he said, and he knew he sounded manic, but there was no way on God’s green Earth he was going to let Patrick’s mother touch the sheets that were currently on Patrick’s bed. “I help my friend Stevie change sheets at the motel sometimes,” he said as he quickly stripped the bed. “I’m very good at it.”

“Oh, Patrick mentioned the open mic nights,” Clint said, pointing at the framed poster on the wall. “Did you know he used to play at an open mic night in high school?”

David finished stuffing the dirty sheets into the hamper and grabbed a clean set from the shelf. “Mm hmm, he mentioned that.”

“I’m glad he’s picked it back up. I think he’d stopped playing guitar for a while before things ended with—” Marcy stopped herself, like it just occurred to her that she maybe shouldn’t be gossiping about her son’s past love life with his business partner.

“Rachel?” David supplied as he stretched the fitted sheet out over the mattress. Marcy came over and grabbed the other side, looking relieved.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew about that,” she said, putting her corners of the sheet on as David did the same on the other side.

He nodded, remembering the worst week of the last year (until this one). “I do.” Then felt like he needed to explain knowing it. “All those hours of working together, you end up telling each other things.” Although not, apparently, that he isn’t out to his parents, David’s brain supplied.

“Thanks for all your help today, David,” Clint said. “We really do appreciate it.”

David stifled a wince and nodded, trying to approximate a smile.

~*~

“Marcy, you don’t have to start cooking right this minute,” Clint said once they had the groceries unpacked. “You’ve barely slept in the last 36 hours.”

“I want to at least get a lasagna put together,” she said, organizing the ingredients for her meat sauce on the counter and then opening cabinets, looking for an appropriate saute pan.

“Well,” Clint said with a sigh, “give me the garlic and onion and I’ll prep them for you.”

Marcy fiddled with the knobs on Patrick’s stove until she had the correct burner heating up. “His store certainly was beautiful,” she said, thinking back to their brief visit that afternoon. “I never imagined that Patrick could put something like that together.”

“Well, he did tell us that he mainly handled the financial side of things, so I suppose the look of the place is down to David.”

“I guess that’s true.” She unwrapped the package of ground beef, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“He’s going to be okay, honey,” Clint said. “Don’t worry.”

She laughed. “Don’t tell a mother not to worry, Clint Brewer.”

She put the ground beef into the hot pan and began breaking it up with a spatula.

“I’ll tell you another thing,” Clint said. “I think David might have a crush on our son.”

Marcy frowned at him. “You know, it’s not okay to assume someone is gay just because they’re… you know. Effeminate.”

“It’s not that.” Off his wife’s skeptical look, he conceded, “Okay, it’s not just that. It’s the way he looks at Patrick. You didn’t see the way David looked at our son?”

Marcy blinked, trying to remember. She’d been so focused on Patrick, she’d barely looked at David while they were in the hospital room with him. “I guess I didn’t.”

“Well, I think there are some unrequited feelings there,” Clint said.

She mulled that over while she continued to put her meat sauce together. It wouldn’t be good for their business relationship if what Clint said was true. She wondered if Patrick knew, and if so if it made their relationship awkward. David seemed like a respectful person; surely he wouldn’t do anything to make Patrick uncomfortable at work.

Marcy was still worrying about it when she was brushing her teeth in the bathroom that night, beyond exhausted and ready to collapse into bed. She wasn’t sure what impulse made her reach out and open Patrick’s medicine cabinet.

“Hasn’t Patrick been saying he wasn’t seeing anyone?” she asked Clint as she got into bed next to him.

He was already half-asleep. “Yeah.”

“Well, he’s got a mostly empty box of condoms in his medicine cabinet,” she said.

“Marcy, you shouldn’t snoop.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You didn’t mean to open his medicine cabinet?” he yawned.

“It’s a big box.”

“Marcy.”

“Okay, sorry.” She curled up on her side.

“Maybe he hasn’t had any relationships serious enough to tell us about,” Clint reasoned.

She didn’t want to have to think about her son that way, having casual, meaningless sex instead of a real relationship. That wasn’t what she wanted for him. It was why she’d encouraged him to patch things up with Rachel in the past. And while she now believed Patrick when he said things were really over between them, she still hoped he would find someone else who would love him the way he deserved to be loved. All night as she slept, her hopes and worries for her son monopolized her dreams.

Chapter 3

[sakuwriteshere]

The Apple Pie in My Life - Chapter 4

Summary: What happened between two best friends when someone messes with their lives? Can the past changes the future or can the future changes the past?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Female!Reader, OC Abbigail, OC James, OC Alex, OC Purson

Words count: 2260

Warnings: Slight angst, mention of injury (nothing graphic), mention

Square filled: Enemies to Lovers for @spndeanbingo​ and Angst to fluff for @spngenrebingo​​ Those squares are used for the whole series.

A/N: As per usual, this is unbetated and I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes or error spelling. Please let me know what you think of it! I really hope that this new series will bring you as much fun as it does for me.I do not own the characters or the show. Don’t hesitate to comment or share your thoughts!

I won’t post next week, as I’m going to spend Christmas at my mom’s home. I won’t have a computer with me, so sorry. I’ll start to update this story by the end of the year (fortunately).

Chapter 4: Reunion

The room felt cold and uninviting. The repeating beeps should be a sound comforting and reassuring but it was getting on Dean’s nerves. Sam and him had reached the hospital Bobby had told them. They came to the nurse’s office, telling them they were Agents Leyton and Harris from the FBI and that they were here for their partner, Leia Swan.

The nurse, Kate according to her nametag, a cute petite blonde nodded and pushed her chair, standing up and asking for them to follow her. He didn’t want to come, but Sam forced him to, saying that it would be easier if they were two. After so many years, Dean still felt angry. He hated her for her betrayal and the horrible things she said about him. How could she called herself his best friend? How dare she? He knew he would never get over this.

So why was he feeling a pang in his chest when he finally saw her in the hospital bed? Kate had opened the door and entered in the private room first, leading the way. She stood at the bed’s feet and stared at the unconscious body laying in the middle of the room.

“Poor thing. Sometimes I forget how dangerous your job is.” She whispered, hugging herself.

“Yeah.” Sam cleared his throat, rubbing the tip of his nose with his index finger.

“I’ll go look for her doctor.” The nurse added before leaving.

Dean was too focused on the strange mixed feels. For more than a decade he clearly loathed Y/N, to the point of erasing her name from his memory. And here, he was feeling bad for her, witnessing her fragile state. Even Sam remembered him that during his last year before going to Hell, he thought about her and not in the way he would like to. He didn’t know why, among all the women he knew, Dean thought about her in that way. She looked exactly like the last time he had seen here, the teenage girl he had known. His strange brain made her look like a bit older but the face was still the same.

“She looks so small.” Sam’s voice disturbed his trail of thoughts. He took a good look at her. Her eyes were closed, her Y/H/C hair framing her pale face. There was so many tubes connecting her to several machines, and that infuriating constant beeping noise was driving Dean crazy.

Dean closed his eyes, pursing his lips. “Come on man, it’s not like she’s dead.” He reminded him.

“Dean!” Sam admonished him, he still didn’t know what happened between them but that didn’t excuse his behavior.

“Gentlemen.” The doctor excused himself as he entered the room. He introduced himself as Dr Richards. Dark short hair, a bit of grey just above his ears, round face with a pair of glasses resting on his nose. He was certainly the one in charge here.

Both Winchesters turned around, greeting him. While Dean kept glancing at Y/N’s unmoving body, Sam started to speak.

“Executive Assistant Director Duke told us to come here ASAP. You found his phone number in Y/N’s stuff, is that right? What happened?” He asked, as he referred to Bobby’s alias. 

The doctor nodded, confirming Sam’s first sentence. “Found her on the steps in front of the hospital, as if someone left her there, for dead. We gave her all our attention but…” 

“But?” Dean repeated, he couldn’t stop himself as his heart bit harder in his chest.

“She lost a lot of blood.” Dr Richards sighed before grabbing his notes. “We weren’t sure she would make it. I’ve lost a lot of patients for less.” Then he looked up at the brothers, a small smile on his face. “She’s a warrior. We think she’s safe now. The transfusion did well.”

The brothers let out the breath they were holding. Sam kept on asking questions as Dean came closer, inspecting Y/N’s sleeping form. He noticed the marks around her wrists, and a big bruise on the side of her face. Dean’s hand curled into a fist without him noticing. On the other side of her neck, there was a small bandage.

“What’s that for?” He asked the Doctor who looked at him.

“There’s a little wound in her neck, certainly made by a needle.” Dr Richards said, then he nodded as Dean asked silently for the permission to take a look.

He pulled on the bandage carefully and indeed there was the sign of a prick. Was she attacked by a Djinn? How stupid was she for hunting a Djinn on her own?

After a few minutes, Dr Richards excused himself, telling Sam that was all he knew and he needed to check on a few other patients. Sam thanked him and turned to Dean once they were left alone.

“What do you think?” He asked his brother, folding his notepad into his vest pocket.

“Looks like a Djinn. I can’t believe she’s that reckless. Stupid move.” Dean said in a disapproving tone.

“Well, it’s not like she has a choice.” Sam told him, not liking Dean’s tone.

Dean only shrugged, he had enough already. Even if he felt a bit bad for her once they had seen her, all his anger and hatred rushed into his body again. She was the one who betrayed him after all.

The brothers left the hospital room soon after, the nurse said that she wasn’t going to wake up today. They entered in the motel room they rented a few blocks near the hospital. The twins sat up straighter on the bed once the Winchesters came in.

“So? How is your friend?” James asked as he watched Sam throwing his jacket on the other bed before sitting on it. The tall hunter nodded, a silent way for him to tell the kids that their friend was doing fine. Sam swore he saw the relief on their faces.

“Who is she for you, by the way?” Abbigail asked, standing up from the bed and rummaging through the mini fridge, pulling out a few bottles of water before handing them to the boys.

“No one important.” Dean said sternly, ignoring Abby’s extended hand and walking into the bathroom.

***

A few days later, you opened your eyes slowly. Your sight falling on a colorful blurry image. You blinked a few times before your recognized your favorite flowers, standing proudly in a white vase, next to your head.

“You’re awake!” A female voice exclaimed, forcing you to turn your attention on the opposite side of the room.

At the end of your bed stood a young woman, judging by her outfit you quickly knew she was a nurse. She smiled softly at you as she put the papers back in the rack at the end of your bed.

“Your partners were getting restless. You scared them pretty well.” She said as she came closer, checking your vitals.

Partners? You thought, closing your eyes as a sharp pain coursed through your body. Right on queue, two men entered the room.

“Speaking of the Devil.” The nurse smirked as she recognized the men. She nodded and winked at you before leaving the three of you alone.

The silence between you was horrible. None of you wanted to speak first, Sam was staring at you while you kept your focus on him. From the corner of your eyes you could see Dean having a particular interest in the street view.

You rolled your eyes, having enough already.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your throat, hurting a bit from the lack of use.

“Bobby asked us to keep an eye on you.” Sam was the one who spoke.

You nodded thoughtfully, of course that old grumpy man was the one behind all of it. You needed to ask him how he knew. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine. So thank you. Goodbye.” You said as you tried to get out from your bed. You might have overestimated your strength as you nearly fell, fortunately, Sam was quick to react and within one step was at your side to prevent you from falling. 

“Thanks.” You smiled genuinely at him. You could feel the strong grip around your shoulder.

“What happened?” Sam asked as he helped you to sit on the bed. You knew that kind of face, he was asking you information about your case.

“Oh no, no, no, Sam.” You pushed him softly. “This bastard attacked me. This is personal. You won’t steal my case.”

“What was it? A Djinn? A vamp?” Dean asked, speaking for the first time since he entered and ignoring you perfectly. You glared at him and noticed that he was still looking through the window.

“None of your business, Winchester.” You said coldly.

Dean hummed, and after a while, turned his gaze towards you. If looks could kill, you would be dead already. You glared at him, two could play this game. The room fell silent as both of you started a staring contest.

“Y/N,” Sam tried to draw your attention, his big hand engulfing yours. “You know as much as I do, that Bobby won’t let you go alone. As you said, it’s personal. This is your choice. Him or us.”

You closed your eyes, knowing perfectly that Sam was right.

“Give me a minute, then we’ll leave.” You sighed, as you looked around, looking for your stuff. You had to sneak out from the hospital as quickly as possible.

You jaws clenched when you heard, Dean’s ironic voice. “Awesome.”

Thanks to Sam, and his ability to sweet talking people around him, you didn’t have to sneak out. The doctor accepted to let you leave as long as you promised to rest and come back to check everything was fine.

The drive to the motel was silent, despite everything Sam tried to do to enlighten the mood. You weren’t talking about the case yet, and even trivial things would make you speak. When he tried to turn on the radio, Dean was quick to turn it off. Yep, he wasn’t in the mood either. Fantastic, Sam thought.

As soon as the car was parked, Dean climbed off, ignoring his brother or you and heading straight for the room. Sam sighed as he stood outside, looking in his brother’s direction. 

“I still think it’s a bad idea, Sam.” You mumbled, your grip tightening around your duffel bag.

Sam shook his head, forcing an encouraging smile as he pushed you towards their motel room. “We’re hunters, Y/N. Let’s just ignore the past and keep it professional.” He said as he pushed the door open, motioning you to enter first. You heard someone talking in the room, the voice female and kind of stressed.

“Professional, huh?” You repeated, doubting that it would be easy.

“We need to find…” A young teenager said, her back to you as you entered. Another boy was sitting on a bed in front of her, his head snapped in your direction.

“…Mom.” She said in a whisper as she turned around and her eyes fell on you.

All four pairs of eyes were staring at you, you shifted from one foot to the other, feeling uncomfortable.

You cleared your throat and put your duffel bag near the door.

“Wrong person. Y/N, nice to meet you.” You said to the girl, who was still looking at you in a very strange way. You turned towards Sam, hoping to draw the attention off you. “When did you become baby-sitters?”

God bless Sam, he helped you getting rid of the weird tension in the room as he started to introduce you to the two kids.

“Y/N, this is Abigail and James. James, Abby, this is Y/N. We’re helping them on their case.” Sam said. While you were focused on the kids, you missed Sam’s stare, as if he was expecting some recognition from you but there was nothing. Judging by your attitude, their were strangers to you.

“Another case, huh?” You asked. This was your chance to get rid of the brothers. “Well, while you’re helping the kids, I’ll rent my own room and work on my own.”

“Wait a minute.” Sam said as he stopped you from leaving, his strong arm wrapping around your shoulders. “We can perfectly work two cases at a time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You sighed, defeated. You knew Sam was stubborn. You unwrapped his arm and slumped on the nearest chair. “Let’s get to work, then!”

Sam nodded, satisfied. One down, just one left. “Where’s Dean?” He asked the twins who simply pointed at the closed bathroom’s door.

He walked towards the bathroom and hit on the door loudly. His brother was sure taking his time.

After a few seconds of silence, Sam looked at the door, a weird feeling nagging him. He knocked on the door again. “Dean?” 

Still no answer.

“Whatever you’re doing, I’m coming in.” Sam announced as his fingers curled around the door knob. With the lack of answer from the bathroom, Sam glanced at the twins, then at you. None of you could tell him what Dean was doing.

Sam opened the door slowly at first and peeked inside. He opened it fully when he noticed the room was empty.

“Dean?” Sam called as he searched into the room.

“Where is he?” You asked, standing up. You tried to hide the worry in your voice.

“I- I don’t know.” Sam said, the concern visible on his face.

TAPiML tags:  @fandomoverdose666​ , @eternaleviee​ , @slytherinrising​ , @vicmc624​ , @music-is-all-i-need​ , 

[today-we-will-survive]

Hold On

BTS au one-shot

Jungkook x Reader Y/N

Angst

Word Count: 1,292

TRIGGER WARNING: Heavy themes of depression, self-harm and attempted suicide.

A/N: I wrote this while listening to Hold On by Chord Overstreet. I love you all.

gif by me

He found you on the bathroom floor, skin pale and almost as cold as the tiles. You were barely conscious, your heartbeat scarcely detectable when he gripped you tight against his chest, his sobs ricocheting through your muddled thoughts.

“Y/N, please don’t leave me...please wake up...please!”

The last few years have been hard for the two of you. Nothing but fighting and crying and arguing. The bitterness, the resentment, everything that’s left in a relationship when it feels like the love has gone. He didn’t have the time you needed from him. And you didn’t have the patience or the thick skin to stay with someone that lived their life in the spotlight. The fact that you grew to need him in your life to survive made letting him go impossible. But you couldn’t take it anymore. The rumors, the publicity, the attention. You weren’t fit for a life under a microscope. And you thought that you were finally recovering from it. You thought that you could move on, find something else to cling to.

You had your demons and he did too. Your battles with your own were constant. Ones of self-loathing and dark thoughts. Ones that left you lying in your bed buried under the covers for days. You didn’t want to eat. You didn’t want to drink. You didn’t want to keep going, because if you kept going that meant you had to keep fighting. And you didn’t want to do that anymore either.

“Y/N, please wake up.”

“Jungkook?”

“Hyung!”

“Jungkook, what’s going on? Oh no, Y/N.”

“She’s not breathing, hyung. I don’t know what to do. Please help me. I don’t know what to do, hyung.”

“Jin, go call 911.” It sounds faintly like Hoseok but you’re too exhausted to care.

“They won’t get here in time. I’ll drive.”

You barely register the feeling of being lifted off the bathroom floor and held against a solid chest. You feel like you’re floating, your arms and legs dangling lifelessly in the air. The next second you’re being placed on something soft, your body rocking gently as the car you’re in speeds down the freeway. Fingers brush your cheeks and tears fall on your skin.

“Please, just hold on, Y/N.”

“We’re almost there.”

“Please, baby, don’t leave me. Just hang on, we’re almost there.” Another tear hits your cheek. “Please hurry, hyung.”

He watches them wheel you away on a stretcher and Jin and Hoseok have to hold him back as he yells after you. “Please hold on, Y/N!” And he collapses against them, his knees hitting the floor as despair rips through him. “I’m not strong enough for this, hyungs,” he sobs. “I don’t want to let her go.”

The two older boys look at each other, eyes glassy and red as they fight to keep their own tears from spilling over. They have to stay strong. He needs them.

An hour passes and there’s still no news. Hoseok and Jin have managed to get Jungkook to sit in one of the chairs in the waiting room and given him coffee though the drink has grown cold and stayed untouched in his tensed hands. His eyes have glazed over as he stares at the floor, his mind racing over everything the two of you have gone through together.

How you used to stay up late talking every night when he would be on tour, the way you’d wrap your arms so tightly around him when the two of you were finally reunited leaving his ribs sore the next day. Your arguments in the kitchen about the latest scandal and rumors that he swore weren’t true and they really weren’t but you were hearing so many so often that they were beginning to wear on you. The times he’d find new marks on your arms after being away for a while, the cuts already in the later stages of healing…

“Kook?”

Jungkook looks up to find Jimin and Taehyung making their way cautiously toward him and suddenly he’s on his knees again, this time enveloped in the arms of the other two maknaes as he breaks down, pressing his forehead into the carpet.

“Have you heard anything?” Taehyung asks, looking back at the other boys where they sit in their chairs.

Hoseok shakes his head, his bottom lip quivering and he quickly bites down on it to keep from losing his composure.

“We’re still waiting,” Jin says quietly.

Jungkook shudders and sniffs hard and Jimin tightens his grip on his best friend, like he’s physically holding the younger boy together.

Then Hoseok and Jin get to their feet, their eyes glued to the doctor that’s coming toward them. His hands are clasped in front of him, his eyes kind but tinged with sadness. Taehyung straightens up too and when Jimin realizes what’s going on, he gently pulls Jungkook to his feet.

“How is she?” Jin asks stepping forward to try and block Jungkook from hearing what could possibly be bad news.

“We’ve got her stable for now,” the doctor says. “But her body has been through quite a bit of trauma. We’ll know in the next couple of hours.”

“Can I see her?” Jungkook cracks from behind Jin and the doctor peers around the older boy at him. His eyes are puffy, his lips cracked, his skin pale. “Please?”

“You can,” the doctor says then looks back at Jin again. “But it would be best if he didn’t go alone.”

“We’ll all go together,” Jimin says, his arms still securely around his friend.

Together, the five of them follow the doctor back through the swinging doors, Jimin and Taehyung with their hands around Jungkook’s waist to keep him upright. It takes several turns to get to the correct hallway, but at last they stand outside of your door. No one really knows what to do next until Hoseok finally puts his hand on the knob and pushes the door open carefully. The other four wait for Jungkook to cross the threshold first but as soon as he catches sight of you, he turns away and buries his head in Taehyung’s neck. His shoulders shake but he doesn’t make a sound. Then he lifts his head again and takes a deep breath as he turns to look at you.

You look so small

An IV snakes up your arm attached to a bag on a stand next to the bed. There’s a tube in your nose and wires coming up out of the neck of your hospital gown that connect to a monitor and the only sign that you’re alive is the faint but constant beeping. It’s the only sound in the room. Then there’s a small knock on the door. It cracks open a bit wider and Yoongi appears there, Namjoon peeking in behind him.

“Hey,” Yoongi says quietly. “We came as soon as we heard. How’s she doing?”

Hoseok leans back against the wall next to the door and shakes his head. Still no one says a word, just waits for Jungkook to do something.

Finally, he steps out of Taehyung’s arms, making his way slowly toward you. Your eyes are closed, your lashes resting against your cheeks. Your skin has a waxy sheen to it, all color gone from your face. He remembers how pink your cheeks used to be, how much rosier they would get when he’d make you blush. You look so different. So defeated. He leans down and brushes the hair back from your forehead before pressing his lips against it.

“Don’t leave me, Y/N,” he whispers against your skin. “I still need you. Just, hold on.”

[car-karaoke]

Friday Part 2

Thank you to everyone who reached out to me and gave me feedback on the first part of Friday!! Having been my first write, I had no idea if anyone would like it. But you guys have shown me love and I appreciate that more than you know! This second part is a bit slower I think, but I wanted to include it to develop the characters more! I'm planning on writing a part 3 as well when I get the chance 😁

*none of the gifs in here are mine, all credit goes to the owners*

This is still a fairly long chapter (I think?). Not as long as part 1 but still lengthy

Warnings: excess amounts of FLUFF, partial nudity, language, body insecurities 

Alex and Marco's apartment was a very homey and comfortable yet luxurious place-not that you really noticed right now. You and Alex were too busy fighting for dominance over a kiss for you to notice Alex's breathtaking photography up on the walls. In fact, one of them nearly fell just now as Alex pushed you up against the wall

You were both panting, hands trying to memorize every square inch of flesh they could without just stripping naked right there. Thankfully, Jordan and Taylor had already made their way to a bedroom for the night

"Fuck Alex" you groaned, hips pushing against his as you tugged on his hair

"You. Are. So. Beautiful" Alex whispers in between kisses. For a moment, you just look up at him in awe. He is one of the most attractive men you had ever seen, yet here he was calling YOU beautiful. Your mind was a little foggy, the booze definitely not helping. And then that dreaded feeling happened

Your stomach churned, making a loud unpleasant noise. Your throat started to swell up and the all too familiar feeling of pre-throw up hit you. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at Alex again

"Where's your bathroom? I just need to pee", you lied

Alex looked at you with concern, noticing how pale you looked. "Down the hall to the right, but I'm coming with you to make sure you're alright"

Immediately, you started to protest when you felt the feeling return. "No, Alex I'm fi-" you covered your mouth and ran to the bathroom, just barely making it into the toilet

Humiliated, you coughed and grabbed some toilet paper to wipe your mouth. When you went to close the door, Alex was already there, kneeling next to you. He softly pushed the hair out of your face as you looked miserably up at him

"No please Alex.. you do not need to see this....I'm so embarrassed, this is disgusting. You can go I'm fine" you protested, as another heave came. Alex just grabbed your hair with one hand, holding it out of the way, while his other hand rubbed up and down your back softly

He sat with you the whole time, despite your constant objections. Rubbing your back, kissing your shoulder, trying to make you laugh when you started feeling better. Eventually, you were finally done puking and slowly got up off the floor. Alex had left to go to the kitchen to grab you some water and tylenol

You looked in the bathroom mirror and winced. You looked like hell. Your makeup was smeared from the watery eyes, compliments of throwing up. Your hair was tangled, and your outfit was half off. You sighed and rubbed your face

"Here love, you need these" Alex said, handing you the glass and the pills. You took them with a smile

"Thank you" you sighed. "I look like a fucking wreck, huh?" You laughed

Alex chuckled. "I wouldn't say a wreck, no. Just in need of some sleep and perhaps some greasy food". He pulled you into a gentle hug, rubbing circles on your back

You sighed again and wrapped your arms around him. "Those both sound good. I was in the mood for something else before, but I kind of ruined that moment" you said sadly

Alex looked down at you and kissed your forehead. "A little bit, yes" he laughed. "But we're both drunk anyways, so as much as I would've loved to continue that, I wouldn't have been able to go through with it. Not like that" he said quietly

"You're such a gentleman" you smiled, squeezing him. "I guess you're right though, it wouldn't have been the best idea"

Alex looked right at you with a sexy smile. "If I ever have the pleasure of making love to you, I want to be able to remember every..single...moment." He whispered against your ear. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you tried to control yourself

Alex pulled away, grabbing your hand and leading you to the kitchen. You plopped down on one of the bar stools as Alex warmed up some pizza in the microwave. You giggled at the way Alex hummed a little song to himself, bopping his head up and down cheerfully

"I dont know how you can be in such a good mood after you just had to sit next to a drunk puking woman in the bathroom for half an hour" you chuckled

The microwave beeped and Alex grabbed two plates for the pizza and headed over by you, handing you a plate with a smile. "Because that drunk puking woman was you" he said simply. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, because that would mean more time with you" he smiled, booping your nose

You blushed deeply, shaking your head in amazement. "You're crazy, you know that?"

"Nah, I just really like you" he said with a smirk, knowing it would make you blush again

You both munched on the pizza happily, talking about the night. You must have apologized a thousand times for the "bathroom incident" as you lovingly called it. Eventually, you both had enough to eat and were getting tired

"Come on Y/N, let's go get some sleep" he said, taking your hand

"Can we cuddle?" You asked innocently

In response, Alex spun around and picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing you. "Of course, I'm not letting you get away that easy"

You both collapsed on his bed, sighing pleasantly after the long night. You lazily took most of your clothes off until you were left in your panties and a tank top. Alex stripped down to his boxers. You shamelessly looked down his body. Gods he was a sexy man. His physique was incredible. Alex smirked down at you, laughing a little

"Eyes up here darlin" he says, crawling into bed with you and pulling you close

"I can't help it, it's not my fault you're so sexy" you mumbled up against his neck. You felt him smiling at you, rubbing your back

"Don't even get me started on who's the sexy one right now. I'm having a hard time not letting my mind wander" he admitted

You smiled against his skin, squeezing him tighter. His hand was tracing lines up and down your back, your arm draped over his side, caressing his side lovingly. You both talked for a little while longer, Alex occasionally pressing soft kisses to your temple until you both drifted into a peaceful sleep

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

When you woke up the next morning, you were thoroughly wrapped up in Alex's arms. From what you could tell, he wasn't awake yet. He was softly snoring against your hair which made you laugh. Neither one of you had hardly moved from the position you fell asleep in. You still couldn't believe how you had gotten lucky enough to be in this position right now. You were wrapped warmly in Alex Høgh Anderson's arms, who was in fact one of the biggest sweethearts you had ever met

Your daydreams were cut short when you noticed that he wasn't snoring anymore. Carefully you looked up and saw him smiling down at you

"I wasn't sure if you were awake, did I wake you up?" he asked sleepily

"No, I woke up just before you" you yawned. You soon realized you had morning breath and were suddenly hyper-aware of every flaw you saw in yourself. You shuffled uncomfortably in Alex's arms, thinking of how your makeup was probably smeared all over your face. Alex yawned and shuffled around, getting out of bed

"I'm gunna hop in the shower quick, you'll still be here right?" He asked. You nodded back. He flashed you a smile and headed off towards the bathroom. Quickly, you looked in the mirror above his dresser to wipe away the rubbed makeup and put your clothes back on

Wondering how Taylor was, you wandered down the hall to check on her. The door to Jordan's room was cracked open, so you peeked inside

"Taylor?" You whispered. No answer. "Taylor?" You called a bit louder

"In here Y/N!" You heard her call from the kitchen

Taylor and Jordan were sitting on the couch together eating some cereal. They looked very happy together, still cuddled up against each other. The sight made you smile

"Mornin guys" you said cheerfully

"Well good morning sleepy head, where's Alex?" Jordan asked

"Just in the shower" you replied, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "Which reminds me that we haven't showered in a day. Or brushed our teeth. We should probably do that soon, right Taylor?" You said shyly

Jordan smirked and nudged Taylor in the ribs. She giggled. "Well I for one DID take a shower this morning....with Jordan...ya know...to save some water" she laughed. But she noticed the way you were fidgeting and knew right away that you were getting in your own head. "But I have not brushed my teeth, you're right. So we should definitely get home to take care of that" she added, giving you a small knowing smile

"Take care of what?" Alex asked, casually walking into the living room wearing nothing but a towel. Little beads of water were trailing down his skin. You had to tear your eyes away from his V-line to look him in the eyes

"Uhh..um...we were talking about how we should get home to freshen up. Brush our teeth. Shower. Change out of last night's clothes" you muttered. You swore you saw Alex's face droop, although he gave you a smile and sat down next to you. It took everything in your power not to run your hand over his body just then

"I guess that's probably a good idea. You have some puke on your dress love" Alex pointed out with a smile. Your cheeks immediately reddened, looking down to see he was right

"Oh god you're right. That is disgusting. See, I need to change. You don't wanna spend more time with me looking like this" you said, trying not to sound too weak

"I'd spend time with you no matter what you were wearing. You could wear a paper bag if you felt like it" Alex stated simply, playing with the knot in his towel. You blushed harder, nudging him in the side as he leaned into you

"Well....shall we Y/N?" Taylor asked loudly, pulling you out of your little daze Alex's touch put you in

"Yeah, probably should." You said sadly

Both Alex and Jordan got up with you guys, you and Alex walking towards the door, Taylor and Jordan meeting in the middle of the living room to embrace each other and whisper in each other's ears

Alex reached behind him, rubbing his head. You tried not looking at his bulging muscles. To no avail. You were staring again and he knew it. When your eyes went back to his, you were met with a teasing smile and mischief in his eyes

"Trouble concentrating there?" He teased, reaching out for you and pulling you into him

"Shut up", you mumbled against him with a smile. You held onto him tightly, really not wanting to leave him but on the other hand, you knew if you didn't get cleaned up, you'd only get more self conscious. His hands were running up and down your back as he held you

"Are you okay?" He asked softly

Your heart melted. Somehow, he knew you were in your own head. You nuzzled into him closer and sighed

"Yes. I really am. I don't want to go, I really don't. It's got nothing to do with you. You didn't do anything wrong. I just really want to get cleaned up. I feel nasty and not at all confident" you admitted shyly

He moved one hand to your cheek and cupped it, prompting you to look up at him. "It's alright, I never want you to feel uncomfortable. But just know that I still think you look beautiful. Even with a puke stained dress and your hair all messy and half your makeup rubbed off" he laughed, thumb trailing along your cheekbone

You blushed deeply, a giant smile spreading across your face as you found a bit of confidence and moved on your tiptoes for a kiss. He gladly leaned down and kissed you gently, his hand still cupping your cheek while the other held you close to him. You hummed against his lips and smiled, breaking the kiss to give him two or three more small little pecks

Jordan appeared suddenly behind Alex and slapped him on the shoulder. "Alright lover boy, let's let our lovely ladies go" he said with a laugh

Everyone laughed as you headed out the door, giving Alex one last smile over your shoulder. He had a big smile on his face as he held his hand up to his ear like a phone

"Call me baby!!" He yelled with a huge laugh. That damn towel nearly falling off before he slowly closed the door

I'm tagging those of you who showed interest in this series-thank you all!!

@thevikingsheaux @dangerousvikings @tephi101 @ravens-of-kattegat @stardustandbucky @the-only-villain-here-is-me @elska-of-skrifa @honestsycrets @bluearcher20 @nutinanutshell @supernaturalvikingwhore @ivarthebonelessvk @ivaraddict @ivarandersen

[uglymanchronicles]

UMC: R Chapter 9: Execute

He finally does it.  This is the last chapter of what I’m calling “Book 1″, and officially ends the prequel.  From here on out the “books” will be shorter, basically starting up where the original UMC started, though things will go much differently this time around.

Evan shoved the cabin door open and stomped inside, trying hard to keep himself from panicking.  It had taken him a whole hour to drag Carmichael's carcass sufficiently far into the woods, and half an hour more to find his way back to the cabin.  The crescent moon was now high and bright in the sky, which meant Evan was running out of time.

He gave the rune a cursory glance as he strode towards the bedroom.  It was still glowing; in fact, it seemed to be glowing even brighter now that the moonlight was shining on it through the window.  Assuming that was as good a sign as any, Evan strode into the bedroom.

Considering himself fortunate that Carmichael had been enough of professional not completely toss the place, Evan gathered up the contents of his bags in one big armful and hurried back into the main room.

This goes here, that goes there… Clutching his notes in one hand, Evan set about placing the esoteric miscellany of the ritual's components in their designated spots.  After everything was in its place, he began placing voice recorders around the apex points of the sigil.  This was the part he was most uncertain about.  Nothing in the notes said anything about the nature of the people involved with the ritual, so he was banking on recordings of himself chanting to stand in for having friends.  

It was time for a last-minute check.  Evan took off his jacket and unstrapped the MANUS from his forearms.  He needed his arms uncovered because a component of the final stage of the ritual was on one of them.  

A simple tattoo, still slightly tender from its recent creation, adorned the inside of his left forearm.  He hadn’t wanted anything fancy, and fortunately, the ritual didn’t call for anything fancy.    It had only called for a tattoo of some kind of symbol of personal importance, infused with a strange mixture of (thankfully harmless) ground-up minerals.  It had been a bit of work to find a tattoo artist willing to use ink Evan had provided himself, but if there was one thing Evan had learned recently, it was that the ability to bribe people might as well have been a superpower on its own.

It was four simple words in blue in a vaguely gothic script: BE YOUR OWN HERO.  The first three words were smaller and sat above the fourth.  Evan thought it looked decent enough, but he was well aware that graphic design was not a particularly strong suit of his.  The ‘O' of ‘HERO' didn't connect completely; a very thin line of bare skin bisected the loop.  Closing that was the lynchpin of the ritual.  Another indicator that this was not intended to be a solo endeavor—the subject of the ritual had to be holding both the focus and the Book itself in separate hands during the whole thing, which made finishing the tattoo something of a tricky task.  He'd done a few dry runs, though, and was convinced he could successfully (if not steadily) manipulate a needle with Mr. Nex clenched in the same hand.  It wouldn't be pretty, but, well, neither was he.

Magic book.  Makeshift tattoo needle.  Stuffed giraffe.  As good of components for a world-changing ritual as any.  Components in hand, Evan sat down cross-legged in the middle of the rune, took a deep breath, and said, “System: Begin sequence.”

The voice recorders beeped to life.  Evan’s own voice, phonetically reciting languages he didn’t know, echoed around him in an unnerving chorus.  After a few minutes, the air in the cabin began to take on a slightly greasy feeling. The light from the rune began to stretch upwards, extending several feet over Evan’s head.  Evan felt his heart rate quicken.  It’s working!  It’s actually working!  He tightened his grip on Mr. Nex and prayed, not for the first time, that being the conduit for ancient magic wouldn’t prove terminally destructive to his childhood friend.  

It had been maybe fifteen minutes.  Evan couldn’t see the walls of the cabin any more.  The scintillating lights had grown more intense, more opaque; before it had reached up to the ceiling, it had begun to curve in on itself.  A dome of light nearly surrounded Evan, with only a small, rapidly-shrinking clearing directly above his head.  The air felt volatile, and Evan swore he could hear sounds beyond the recordings of his own voice.  He couldn’t figure out what it was, almost as if he couldn’t focus on it, like the auditory version of grasping for an almost-remembered thought. Was it music?  

Evan checked his watch. Only a few minutes now.  It was evident that the ritual was approaching its climax, even without the timer; the light was now a complete dome above him and it felt as though something were pressing on his skin, searching for a way in.  It was like being underwater if the water was half as dense as normal.  Evan couldn’t decide if the sensation was comforting or frightening.  

There.  A small chime in the remaining voice track.  It was time.  Evan shifted his grip on the needle and turned his forearm upwards.  Wincing slightly as he pricked his skin, he spoke aloud the puzzling final phrase of the ritual.

“I accept this responsibility for the good of all.”

The light suddenly went dark, and for a moment, Evan thought he’d done something wrong.  Then he realized he couldn’t see the wall.  His first impression was that his night vision had simply been erased by the glow.   But… he could see himself perfectly.  There were no spots in his eyes.  There was

Falling.  Falling inwards.  Falling into myself.  How far down? How far will OH GODDDDDDD

He didn’t remember much of it afterwards, just faint impressions, like emotions attached to memories he’d forgotten.  Every time tried to recall details, they seemed to change.  Puzzlingly, he seemed to recall standing in what seemed to be a darkened subway car at some point.  Each time he thought about the memory, there were different people in the car: sometimes it was full of varying numbers of shadowy figures, other times, he was alone, and he once swore he heard the door open and someone enter behind him.  He never was sure when he got off the train, if he ever did.  There was a constant sensation of being simultaneously pushed in all directions, of being compressed down while expanding rapidly, all contradictory sensations that added up to a glimpse of something massive beyond scale and more intimate than the dearest of secrets.  He felt as though he'd glimpsed the infinite and, instead of being rendered inchoate by his relative insignificance, had understood, just for an instant, his place in the whole thing.

 Significance.

Eventually, he found himself lying on the floor of the cabin.  He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but the sun was up.  He was exhausted; whatever he'd been doing for the past several hours, it wasn't sleeping.  His body didn't so much ache as it felt loose and weak, like he'd been dancing for hours. For all he knew, he might have been.

With some effort, he sat up. A thought struck him suddenly and he felt panic begin to grip his chest, but before the fear could even take root, he looked down and saw Mr. Nex, looking none the worse for wear, still clutched in his hand.  With a happy sob, Evan hugged the stuffed giraffe to his chest and stood up.  

He barely managed to stumble into the bedroom and line himself up with the bed before exhaustion took over.  The straw mattress felt like heaven.

When Evan woke up, the sun had begun to set.  Did he feel different?  He couldn’t tell.  He tried not to think about it too much as he cleaned up the remnants of the rune, rearranged the furniture, and disarmed all the traps and alarms he could remember setting. If he thought about it too much, he might start imagining things.  It was done, and it had worked, and now it was time to figure out the next step. But first he had to get back to the RV—back home.  

God, it’s beautiful out here, he thought, turning to take in the sunset over the trees as he left the cabin.  Maybe it had something to do with the ritual, maybe it was just the afterglow of accomplishing a goal, but he felt like he could appreciate everything just a little more now.  He had a long way to hike and it was getting dark, but he wasn’t worried.  As he set off through the trees, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt the urge to sing, as surely as if he could actually hear the music:

“Don’t call it a comeback.

I’ve been here for years!”

[benevolenterrancy]

Maybe Herawell?

I’ve never written Herawell... or Maxwell at all, so this was a fun challenge (and a good excuse to relisten to season three episodes)!  Definitely not a drabble but I had an idea and I wanted to roll with it.  I’ve also posted it up on my AO3.

By now, Maxwell knew the Hephaestus like an old friend.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that if she hadold friends, she would know them as well as the Hephaestus.

She sees the blueprints in her head, sees them shift andswim through their three dimensional mapping, the layers of crew pathways andservice corridors overlaid with technical graphs of wiring and pipes andcarefully labelled systems that blurred over top of each other until she, withbarely a thought, dissected them from one another and superimpose them over hersurroundings.  She was in engineering,but she wasn’t just inengineering.  To her right she passed acomms terminal, and snaking through that wall was a network that connected itto three other engineering terminals to create a subsystem, partitioned off themain systems for safety reasons. Immediately beneath her feet were three different branches of theHephaestus’ heating ducts, and below that was a primary power node.  Overhead, she knew there were four differentnetworks of wires, all carrying different information at impossible speeds allover the ship.  Interspersed through allof this was the grid of cameras and sensors and auditor inputs used by themother program to supervise the station and its inhabitants.  All of this hidden from sight buteffortlessly visible in her  mind’s eye.

With ease she moved  through the stuffy, complex maze ofengineering, not even looking up from the tablet in her hand and she pushed herway along.  She was trying to make senseof an error that had cropped up yesterday in the ventilation system.  It had been a strange, brief tick and shemight have overlooked it if it weren’t for the fact that it quite literally should not have happened.  As far as she could tell there was no triggerthat should have set it off, it was a completely inscrutable puzzle, and that annoyed Alana Maxwell.  So here she was, attempting to hunt it downto its root system.

She may have very well continued on her way, comfortable inthe busy silence of an unsolved dilemma (one that took her blissfully far awayfrom the unmitigated chaos of the rest of the ship since the colonel had betterthings to do than slum in engineering, Lovelace and Minkowski were bothdutifully busy with their own work, and Eiffel wasn’t likely to go somewherethat might require him needing to actually work.  Honestly Maxwell was grateful for thattoday.  Today wasn’t a day she felt muchlike being around other people.  Jacobiby now knew to leave well enough alone; he’d given her shoulder a brief pat inthe morning when they had passed in the kitchen and that had been the extent ofit.

So it was just her and the machines.  Really, if you thought about it, that wasn’tso much sad as much as it was… a tradition.

That might actually be more sad, if she let herself think aboutit too much.  Which she didn’t.  

This peace was broken though, when one of the machines spokeup.

“Doctor Maxwell, stop!”

Hera’s voice was so sudden and so filled with cracklingpanic that Maxwell didn’t even question it. That, and the sharp warning beeps that came half a second after told hervery  clearly that she needed to quitmoving now.  She scrambled to stop herself as quickly as shecould while gliding in zero-G.  Shedidn’t stop a moment too soon; immediately in front her face one of the pressurerelease values on engine systems gave an ear-piercing shriek as it released askin-burning cloud of built-up steam. Even from where she clung to the pipe that had slowed her down, Alanacould feel the sizzle of super-heated water vapour across her cheeks.

The steam died back down as quickly as it had come, leavingthe room silent besides for the plinkplink of cooling metal.  Maxwell tooka moment to compose herself and come to terms with her near death experiencebefore speaking.

“Maxwell?  Doctor Maxwell?  Are you okay? …Alana?”

Maxwell breathed carefully. The air felt all the colder passing into her lungs after that burst ofsteam.

“I am… okay, Hera. Barely, but okay.  At least Iwasn’t done up like steamed broccoli so it could have been worse.  Now, if you don’t mind me asking, what the hell was that.”

A semi-omniscient artificial intelligence that was fullyintegrated with a space stations couldn’t actually flinch, but Hera definitelytried.  

After the uncomfortable static died down, Maxwell asked, asgently as she could, “Hera are youfeeling okay?  That was a reallyunexpected pressure build up, and–”

“No no no, I’m fine! I’m fantastic!  I am – with allthe work you’ve already done for me, Doctor Maxwell, I’ve honestly never felt better. It was just…  I was doing a fewadjustments of our orbit and I guess it just put a bit more strain on theengines than I had calculated.  Sillymistake!  Must have, um, forgotten tocarry the one?”

Maxwell crossed her arms. She’d gone from being shocked and mildly concerned to down rightsuspicious.  “You’ve been spending toomuch time around Eiffel,” she said flatly.

Hera couldn’t really deny that.  She swore she used to be a better liar.

“Seriously, Hera, what’s wrong?  And can we not do the usual song and dancearound this.  Just… let me know whatneeds to be fixed, so I can fix it.  Letme help.”

“Nothing needs to be fixed – well, no, that cooling tank bythe starboard thruster is still running at a loss for some reason, and I’m notsure that reroute you patched in last week has fully settled – but what I meanto say is… this was just an accident. Honest.  And besides, youshouldn’t be overworking yourself today, right? Right!  Right, so let’s forget it.”

Maxwell squinted.

“What’s thatsupposed to mean?”

Hera seemed to realize she’d taken a misstep because shefumbled to self-correct.  “What?  Mean? Nothing!  Just… you’re a…hardworking individual and you shouldn’t work… too… hard.”

“Why is today so special?” she demanded, though she knewwhy.  “Look, whatever you think you knowabout me, Hera–”

“Look, I wasn’t snooping just to snoop!  Well, not much.  Maybe a little.  It happened while we were patching code fromthe Urania into my databanks.  It’s allbeing shoved into my head, it’s hard notto look and it was just a little date and it wasn’t exactly classified – much –anyway!  It’s not really a big deal,right?  Except… then you haven’t saidanything about it and no one else has said anything about it and now I’mthinking maybe it is a big deal and,yeah…” she trailed off.

Maxwell just sighed.

“Alright, let’s just… get this out in the open then.  Yes, it’s my birthday.  I suppose I shouldn’t have really expectedyou not to figure that out.”

“Happy birthday?” Hera offered tentatively.

“Not really,” said Maxwell pointedly.  “Look, you know and… honestly, I’msurprisingly okay with you knowing. Because it’s you.  But I don’twant to talk about it or acknowledge it or anything.  Get it? I don’t exactly have a lot of great memories about birthdays and honest,I’d rather just be busy.”

Math, numbers, machines, those had always been there, thosehad always been constant.  Growing up,nothing else really had been.  She lookedback on her time in public school mostly with resentment.  They hadn’t know what they had had.  They had left her alone and bored andstagnating.  They had left her with herfather and left her with her inscrutable classmates and left her inmotherfucking Montana.  But at the time, as a child, she had likedschool, as much as she’d liked most things. Oh, she had hated her classmates, and hated the lonely boredom of recessand lunch until she had learned to smile and charm and convince her peers totolerate her on a surface level.  She hadhated how boring the work had been and how stupid her classmates had seemed.  But school at least had been constant.  Every weekday, eight to two.  And once a year, like every other student intheir small elementary school, the principal would call her name over the morningannouncements to mention to a mostly uncaring student body that it was herbirthday and to invite her to get a birthday pencil from the office.  It had been predictable.  It had, when she was younger and more naïve,made her feel good.  Once a year, atleast one person would wish her a happy birthday.  She had heard plenty of stories about whatbirthdays were supposed to be like, heard peers talk, read it in books, seen iton TV.  Parents pampering you, presents,parties, praise.  Some years her fatherremember.  Some years she wished he didn’t.  Most it wasn’t an issue, but it wasn’tmentioned.

But she would spend the entire day on edge, wondering if,if, if, if he would remember, and if he did what would happen.  It had been an unpredictable, anxious sort ofday.  Most years she would drag herbiggest, and most interesting books into her room – whatever she’d been able tocheck out of the school’s little library or borrow from the classroom – andread.  She’d look at the grade six mathbook that was theoretically three years too advance for her and let the simpleequations solve themselves before her eyes, she’d read about space and scienceand exploration and imagine the hidden math there.  A rocket went up to space.  How? The book didn’t tell.  She wouldspend the evening on her stomach with paper and pencils in front of her as sheimagined how it worked, why it worked, if she could make it work.  The math was constant.  It kept her busy.  It was a good friend.

And yes, she realized that that sounded sad.  Childhood trauma and all that, the plight ofa child genius, everyone had heard the narrative before.  She shut it down and locked it up behindfirewalls and deleted the directories that lead back there.  It was unnecessary baggage, a glitch in herprograming, an obsolete file that slowed her down.  But command_code: “birthday” had a way ofdrawing those memories back up.  So shekept busy.

Maxwell spoke first, eager to change the subject.  “So how about we figure out what the heck hasbeen causing these weird alarms over the past few days.  At this point I’m thinking there might besomething wrong with the alarm trigger itself, with the audio, because–”

“I, uh… I know what’s wrong.”

“…Are you serious?  Sowhat, you’ve just been watching me scramble around trying to figure it out?  Hera, if this is a prank you have really been spending too much timearound Eiffel.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Hera…”

“I’m serious!  Well, Imean technically there were thingsthat were wrong for a very, very briefamount of time.  I was trying to surpriseyou and so I was… practicing.”

“By… breaking the ship? I mean, I would have beensurprised if we’d suddenly dropped into the star but I think everyone elsewould have been too.”

“Oh, so I need to keep you updated about every time I adjustany system, but you don’t even have to tell me that it’s your birthday!” snapped Hera, clearly riled.

“What does that have to do with anything?” demanded Maxwell,feeling just as frustrated.

“Because it’s your birthday!”

“So what?  Kepler’s isnext month, do you give a shit about that?”

“No!  Because that’s Kepler, and this is you. I care because it’s yourbirthday!  This is the day you started existing.  And I thought that we… I thought…”  The glitch was thick in her voice.  “I thought you would c-care if I knew.”

The action was immediately, without any sort of thought; Maxwellreached out and put a hand on the nearest pipe. It was an absolutely insane, nonsensical thing to do.  To say that Hera was the Hephaestus was agross over-simplification to begin with, but even if you did make that leap itwasn’t like there was any sensation for Hera to experience by Maxwell touchingsome arbitrary part of the station.  Shecouldn’t tell that Maxwell’s hand was soft. Apologetic.  Shocked and sincereand overwhelmed but not knowing how to feel any of that let alone voice it.

“I don’t really dobirthdays.  Not a lot of great memoriesfor me.”  Please understand.

“I get that, I just…” said Hera, with stops and starts.  “I’m sorry, I’m going to mess all this up.  I just, I wanted you to know that I’m g-gladyou exist.  And I get not liking whereyou c-came from, but I don’t care aboutthat.  Who cares if the person who madeyou was a b-bad person?  I’m glad youexist, like this, now.”

Maxwell could feel her hand tighten its grip on the pipe asher throat tightened around a lump of emotions rising up from her chest.  She didn’t know what to say, so she saidnothing.

For a moment it was silent, or as silent as engineering evergot.  Just the sound of a single humanand thousands of pounds of complex machinery co-existing.  And a single AI thinking carefully before shespoke.

Finally, Hera said, with great tentativeness, “Can I giveyou my gift now?  I… I was still working itout but I think it should be ready.”

That startled Maxwell. “Alright, Hera, you’re pretty amazing but – no, you are possibly the most amazing person I know – butthere are limits.  You don’t have hands, Hera.  We’re stuck in a tin can eight lightyearsaway from earth.”  Laughter was breakinginto her voice, a disbelieving, amazed, intrigued laughter.  She was curious.  Not just curious, but completelystumped.  You couldn’t just get someonesomething when you had next to no resources to begin with and were existing ina tiny bubble in the middle of space. And yet she was supposed to believe Hera had somehow managed it?  Just because it was Maxwell’s birthday?

Honestly, if anyone could manage it, she supposed the factthat Hera had surprised her the least. No matter what that little voice in her head might insist, Hera wascapable of so much.  Maxwell had builther life around artificial intelligence, and yet Hera was constantly,endlessly, relentlessly amazing her.  Notbecause she was a great AI, but because Hera was, unerringly, a greatperson.  A great, shocking, frustrating,wonderful person.

“I have my ways,” said Hera, with a smug pride in her voicethat was so far removed from the helplessness that she was still workingthrough that Maxwell couldn’t help but smile. ”So… do you want it?”

“Yes, I’m too curious now.”

“I know all your weaknesses,” teased Hera.  “You’re going to have to wait for just onesecond.  It’s a little tricky to getgoing.”

Maxwell floated in the middle of engineering, waiting.

Then a warning buzzer went off somewhere below her.   Maxwell was in the middle of doing afull-body twist – immediately looking for what was going wrong was such aningrained instinct at this point that she didn’t even think about it – when thebuzz cut off.  And then another alarmbeeped, its lights flashing.  Andbeeped.  Stopped.  A higher pinging, a warning bell, and soonMaxwell was listening to a choir of notification pings and alarm buzzes andalert beeps play out in what, she realized with delighted awe, was asurprisingly recognizable rendition of HappyBirthday.  And this wasn’t just Herapiping music or even noise through her speakers.  No, Maxwell realized as she floated amid a rainbowsky of flashing lights, somehow Hera was managing to choreograph an array ofsystem failures with the sole purpose of making the machines around them sing.

That should have been more terrifying than it was.  Mostly Maxwell just wanted to figure out away to hug an entire space station, because an entire space station beingsystematically broken and rebuilt in the span of microseconds that was possiblythe coolest gift she had ever been given.

When the last warning hum died down, and the bright lightswere flashing and twinkling like party poppers, Maxwell applauded.

“D-did you like it?”

“Hera, that was amazing.  How did you even manage that?”

Hera was flustered, delightfully so.  “Oh, you know.  Practice. Which, um, sorry about that.  Butit was really just like knocking over a line of dominoes.  …Dominoes that you also need to make sure youprogram to immediately rebuild themselves after they get knocked over soeveryone doesn’t die a horrible, painful death.”  Hera laughed uncertainly.  “But everything was fine, so – yay.”

Maxwell was turning on the spot, mentally trying tocalculate how many different systems had played into that, how that many couldeven be altered or tricked in such a way. “There must have been a hundred different failsafes to work around topull that off.”

“Oh, believe me, there are and none of them are happy withme right now.  But… I did it.  I really didn’t think I could but, well, thenI figured who says I can’t.  So I just,did.”

Maxwell had her face in her hands.

“Doctor Maxwell?”

Her shoulders shook.

“Alana?” called Hera, more alarmed.  “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have doneanything; Eiffel doesn’t like his birthday either, but I’d thought–”

Finally, Maxwell laughed. Deep, gasping laughs that were almost tears, probably were tears, butwere  wrapped up enough in humour and joythat they could be safely ignored.

“I can’t believe you just completely kicked down everywarning sign built into your head that you could find.  You just… stomped right over every stopperGoddard made because you wanted to. Because you thought it would make me happy.  I can’t… I…”  Her breathing steadied alittle, and suddenly the weight of it, the weight of twenty seconds and a sillychildish song hit her fully.  “Thank you,Hera.”

“You’re welcome, Alana.” A beat, and then, as if thinking better of herself even as she said it,Hera said, “I understand why you wouldn’t like your birthday, and I definitelyget having memories you don’t want to think about, but someone really, reallywise told me that memories are what make us people.  So I was thinking, maybe, we could make somenew memories?  Together?”

Maxwell didn’t know what to say.  Her mind whizzed with every reason this was abad idea.  Birthday’s were inherentlyunreliable, so she filled them with reliability: numbers, math, work, a few ofthe constants in her life.  Thetemptation to stick with what she knew, to avoid the thoughts, to avoidconfrontation was great.  Sheoverthought, and she knew it.  So shestopped, and said the only thing that she could possibly say.

“I imagine everyone can keep us from dropping into the starwithout me there to hold their hands for a few hours, right?”

“I don’t know about that,” said Hera, fondly.  “But I’d be willing to test that hypothesisout.”

“Sounds like a date.”

[shuaffeine-rkive]

in dreams | 02 (final)

∘ description: and only in dreams, will we be able to meet once again. ∘ pairing: taehyung x reader ∘ genre: soulmate!au, angst with a small chance of fluff ∘ word count: 3925 words ∘ warning: character death 

second and final part that is way long overdue :’) again, thanks to @vanillattae for the help and feedback whilst I was writing this! tae stans, i’m sorry.

read part 01 here! masterlist

Taehyung could count three moments when he had felt immense fear in his life.

The first time was when he was merely a child, waking up to find himself staring at an unfamiliar white ceiling surrounded by the constant beeping of a machine. He had scanned his surroundings, taking in a foreign room completely different to what he had fallen asleep in, and with only one look at some sort of needle sticking out of his arm, he had screamed as loud as he could, trying to get out of the place that seemed more like a prison than anything else. His screams had caught the attention of his parents, who instantly rushed into the room to calm him down. While the sight of his parents had managed to stop him from trying to escape the room, he was still afraid of the sudden change in environment. He swore he had fallen asleep in his own room the previous night, but why was he in this room – which he soon figured out to be a hospital room based on the nurses who rushed in behind his parents – instead?

It was then that he first knew of the disease he carried within him – a vicious curse like no other. Animusnecros, more commonly known as the Undead Syndrome, was understood by Taehyung’s young mind as a disorder where his body required constant reminder by his brain to function, lest it will neglect to do so and result in his death. Thus, his mind developed a protective mechanism where he would find it hard fall asleep – something he had known since before but was passed as mere childhood insomnia by his parents – to keep his brain awake and alert enough to tell his lungs to breathe, his heart to beat, his body to live on.

He never truly understood the how hard the disease’s grip was on his life until he was much older, finding himself getting virtually no sleep and constantly on the brink of complete exhaustion. He was in middle school by then, his heart longing to join his classmates in friendly games of sport despite the strict warning against that by his doctors. Alas, one day he simply could not resist the temptation, resulting in his body completely shutting down with fatigue, unconsciousness taking over his senses barely fifteen minutes after he had joined the game. While he had felt those fifteen minutes were the most fun he had ever experienced in his entire life, he instantly regretted it the moment he woke up in the hospital, his parents sobbing their eyes out from beside the bed.

“We weren’t sure if you were going to wake up again, Tae,” he remembered his mother choking out the words in between her sobs as she held him tightly in an embrace. “The doctors continued to do their best to monitor your condition but the longer you were under, the higher the chances that you weren’t going to make it…”

A horrible, sinking feeling had settled at the pit of his stomach as realisation dawned on him just how easily he could be taken by death. His sleep-deprived body only needed a small push to tip over to unconsciousness, yet the nature of that same body dictated that he not sleep to be able to continue functioning. He was a living irony, because the one thing his body needed the most was the one thing that will kill him.

The second time he had felt an immense fear was the last moment he was alive. 

He remembered it like it was yesterday, the way his weak and frail body lay on his death bed, the warmth radiating from his parents’ hands holding his from either side. He wondered how he had looked back then. Did he still retain that glow from his sun-kissed skin, a warm healthy bronze he once had from an impromptu beach trip his parents had brought him on? He remembered trying to smile widely, attempting to muster the boxy smile his parents had loved so dearly. But did it even form? Was he able to use whatever small amount of energy he had left in his body to grant his parents one last look at the smile of their tragic child?

Then, came the darkness. Darkness was a foreign concept for Taehyung as he never had the chance to spend an extended period of time in it, and he was terrified. No, he wasn’t terrified of what lies beyond the world he had lived in. For one, Taehyung had died with no regrets. After all, he had surpassed all medical expectations and lived sixteen whole years on Earth, all through sheer willpower and faith. No, Taehyung was ready for whatever awaited him on the other side, but what he was truly afraid of was the idea of leaving his parents behind. His loving, ever-supportive parents who had dedicated their whole livelihood to keeping Taehyung alive, to keeping their one and only son close to them for as long as possible. They continually sacrificed their own personal lives to take a longer loan of death – anything, so that they could extend the time they had with their child.

After the darkness, came a blinding light which rendered Taehyung blind for a few moments, his eyes unable to properly to the sudden piercing brightness despite his hand shielding them from direct contact. Soon, he heard a voice booming loudly in his surrounding, his body shaking from the mere intensity of it.

“Kim Taehyung, welcome to the afterlife. You are hereby given a choice on where you choose to proceed to from here,” the voice boomed, Taehyung gulping nervously as he awaited his fate. “You may choose to be reincarnated, to be born again into earth in a different time period as a different person. You may not, however, retain the memories from your present life once you step through to the next.

“Or, you may choose to stay in the dream reality you share with your soulmate. Should you choose to do so, you may retain your memories and still interact with your soulmate, and whenever you are ready, you may leave at any given moment for reincarnation.”

Soulmate. The word was familiar in Taehyung’s ears, yet it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had heard of the concept numerous times, heard of the tales his classmates shared amongst friends of their own companion they met in their dreams, of how their other half had complemented them perfectly as if they were puzzle pieces meant for each other. He would often wonder about his own soulmate, how the poor girl must be suffering because she could never meet him. His heart ached for the girl he never knew, for it was not her fault that she could not experience the same things her peers did – it was not her fault that her soulmate had to suffer from a disease that would prevent him from sleeping, from meeting her.

It didn’t take long for Taehyung to come to a decision, for deep inside him, he blamed himself for bringing unnecessary pain to his other half. He could only imagine how hard it was for the poor girl, surrounded by people gushing about their soulmates only to not be able to meet her own. He felt bad for the past decade of separation, and he was determined to make it up to her.

He hadn’t expected that you were already in the white box he had often heard about, but what he had never thought your first meeting would involve was you curled up in a ball whilst sobbing your heart out. He hadn’t even known your name, nor what you look like, but the mere sight of your shaking shoulders, the mere sound of your unrestrained voice laced with sorrow had sent waves of pain to his breaking heart, and he wasted no time in rushing towards you and holding you in an embrace. He felt you stiffen in his arms, and when you pushed him away, he found his heart skipping a beat as he finally saw your face.

His eyes traced over the outline of your face – your dark eyes reminding him of the night sky he used to watch as he spent his sleepless nights stargazing, your cheeks flushed like the shade of cherry blossom petals he saw in pictures. He was completely enchanted by how beautiful you appeared, even with tear streaks running down the side of your face, and his heart ached at the thought that he was never going to see you in real life – or at the very least, this life. Scenarios and what-ifs flashed before his eyes as he saw glimpses of what your life could be if he was still alive, and it took all his willpower to swallow the lump growing in your throat and address you.

“Sorry if I scared you. Are you alright?”

People said that the third time’s a charm, but Taehyung thought that there was more meaning to the phrase than its common one, for the third time fear had knocked into his life, it was much stronger, more intense than the previous two. 

“Taehyung, when were you going to tell me you were dead?”

It was as if his brain short-circuited, unable to come up with a response as your question caught him off-guard, his breath hitching at the back of his throat. He felt a stabbing pain in his heart as you continued to let out soft sobs at his expression, as if you were even more saddened by the fact that he couldn’t deny your earlier statement. Taehyung was drowning in guilt – guilt for he was the reason for your tears, and guilt for keeping such an important thing from you. He could only accept the weak punches your fists landed on his chest, each hit coming with a silent plead that he would deny the fact that he was dead. After a while, you had used up your energy, knees going weak as you sunk towards the floor whilst Taehyung’s arms instinctively wrapped around your waist and shoulder, holding you against his chest as you clutched onto the folds of his shirt.

Taehyung could only stroke your head softly, it wasn’t that he meant to keep the fact from you, but he just couldn’t bring himself to tell you the truth. How was he supposed to just casually bring up the fact that he was dead? He knew how much it would hurt you that the one person you had waited for since you were a mere seven-year-old, the one you have spent hours at night, alone in the damned white box he had grown accustomed to, wondering about his existence, was never meant to be with you forever. He knew the pain of waiting – he had done plenty of that for the past two years since he had permanently stayed in the white dimension, waiting for night to fall upon your world so that he could see you once again. Two years was all he had experienced, you had almost a decade on top of the constant sneers and stigma that followed you as people painted the label ‘glitch’ all over you. He didn’t have it in him to tell you that they were only able to meet here because he was no longer part of the real world, but what he regretted more was that you had to find out through someone else, and not through him.

“How did you find out?” he whispered shakily, pulling away to wipe some stray tears on your face tenderly.

“I visited your home in Daegu,” you replied, “I met your mother. You have her eyes, so I couldn’t have gotten the wrong person. When I introduced myself as your soulmate, she couldn’t stop apologising to me, and when she told me about you, I finally understand why.

“Remember when we first met?” You let out a humourless chuckle, “Around two years ago, wasn’t it? That night, I had so desperately wished that the universe could finally have mercy on me, to finally allow me to meet you. I didn’t exactly expect for my wish to be granted, but I didn’t expect for it to be granted in such a cruel way.”

When you finally raised your eyes to meet his gaze, he internally winced from the pain evident in your eyes, such raw anguish that made him hate himself for hurting you so when he himself had swore to dedicate this life – afterlife – to making up for the decade earlier. You felt your heart clench in grief as you looked into his warm eyes, your heart unable to fathom how one with eyes containing so much warmth, so much emotions that are so real that you could feel them as well, could be dead – buried few feet under the ground with body cold as ice. You found yourself lost within his eyes, and when you heard the light chirping noises in the background, you realised that the white box had melted away to a scenery you found yourself familiar with, but could not pinpoint where it was exactly.

“This was from the last time I was in my home,” Taehyung whispered softly, his eyes glossing over as he recalled the years of memories he made in this very place. “About two months before I… passed. I was permanently in the hospital after that.”

Your eyes took your surroundings once again, noting the subtle differences in what you saw earlier that day. Taehyung stood, pulling you up with him, and walked towards a shelf filled with picture frames. You remembered his mother showing you the same pictures, one of a young Taehyung smiling brightly in a garden, a family picture of the three of them on a beach, and many other memories of their precious son.

“Your parents moved the picture frames,” you said softly as he picked up one of the pictures of his parents, stroking their faces fondly. “They’re now scattered around the house – on the coffee table, the dining table, some of them were reprinted and hung on the staircase wall as well.”

Taehyung smiled sadly at your words, placing the picture where it was before turning towards you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about myself earlier, even more that you had to find out from someone else. I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it.”

“The Undead Syndrome, I didn’t even know such a thing existed,” you raised a hand to caress his cheek tenderly. “I blamed you for not showing up all these years, not even knowing that you were suffering even more than I did. How selfish could I possibly be to even blame you for something out of your control?”

“It’s not your fault, y/n,” Taehyung whispered, his voice cracking as he felt tears clouding his vision upon seeing your own eyes tearing up again. “It’s this damn universe and their screwed up ways of toying with our fates. But at least now, we can be together, no?”

You nodded in reply, not trusting your voice to not crack on you. As Taehyung, the soulmate you had spent years waiting for, pulled you against his chest tightly, you allow a few tears to wet his shirt as you thought that things were going to be fine, for now.

After the revelation, there was a period of time where things felt rather awkward between the two of you, yet it left you knowing more about Taehyung than you ever did. Taehyung had shown you more of the places from his memories – the playground he loved sneaking out to visit during his sleepless nights, his old school where he made little yet precious memories with other boys his age, the roof of his house where he would spend hours gazing at the stars dotting the night sky, tracing out constellations and learning each of their names. You found yourself cherishing the few hours you had in him each night more dearly now, often finding yourself in his arms as he would ask you about your day whilst laying down on a terrace somewhere 

More than once, you wondered what life would be like if this wasn’t part of your dreams, if everything that happened was reality. You could imagine yourself moving out of your own home in Busan to come live with him, of the nights you could spend together in this dream reality and waking up to his face again every morning. You could imagine accidentally falling asleep while watching a movie, huddled up against him on the couch of your shared home, waiting for him to realise that you were no longer paying the movie any attention. You could imagine spending every moment in your life – whether awake or asleep – together with the man whose place in your heart continue to grow with each passing second, and your heart was warm with that thought.

Alas, you could only spend time with him in your dreams.

“Taehyung, could I ask you something possibly insensitive? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” you asked him, snapping out of your imagination as you turned to face him. You shifted on your side, a hand propping your head up as he hummed in approval, “What was dying like?”

Taehyung paused for a moment, blinking rapidly as he was caught off-guard by your sudden question. He pondered over how to put to words his experience with death, biting a lip as his mind worked to form sentences. “At first, there was only darkness. Then I saw a blinding light, and a booming voice welcoming me to the other side of life and told me to make a decision.”

“What kind of decision?” you prompted when you saw his hesitation, as if he was unsure of whether to disclose further information.

“The voice gave me two options,” Taehyung gulped, an odd bubble of worry growing inside him as he carefully responded. “I could choose to be reincarnated in another time and lose my memories of this life, or I could stay permanently in this white box until I’m ready to leave my soulmate, you. I chose the latter without much doubt.”

To say you were left speechless would be an understatement – you could only stare at him with wide eyes as his words were being processed in your mind. You were shocked that he could make such an impulsive decision, choosing to possibly spend another sixty, seventy long years beside someone he doesn’t even know, someone who could have rejected and wanted nothing to do with him for all he could care. His soulmate could have already moved on without him, rebuking the soulmate system and finding what they perceived as true love elsewhere, not once looking back to see him. Yet, how does one possess so much trust in one’s soulmate? How does a Kim Taehyung believe in the feelings of someone he hadn’t even met?

You were unable to respond to him for a few seconds, and he swallowed hard as your brain seemed to be racing yet your eyes vacant, spacing out to stare at thin air. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, enveloping your hand with his own larger ones, “I didn’t mean to burden you with this.”

“No, Taehyung, it’s alright,” you replied, slightly breathless as your eyes gazed into his, your other hand cupping his warm one in your own, mind lost in the ocean of your thoughts with only the depth of his eyes as a float. “It’s just – I can’t believe you would make such a decision even before knowing me, knowing what kind of person I am, whether you’d end up liking me or not. Did you not consider that I could have hated the system, hated you?”

Taehyung smiled, but it was a different kind of smile than what you would usually see. While he would usually smile at you with hearts in his eyes, there was still a hint of playfulness hidden within them, as if his youthful nature could not ever be suppressed. Yet, there was no such hint visible in his eyes right now – there was only love, an emotion embedded so deep in his gaze that you found yourself overwhelmed by the underlying strength and sincerity in them, and all of it was directed at you, and only you.

“Fate may have cursed me with misfortunes, but I don’t believe in them making mistakes when tying two souls together to become soulmates,” he whispered, slowly inching forward until you felt his hot breath in your face, yet his eyes were still zeroed in in your own. “I believe in falling in love with you no matter what, and you in me.”

As he finally closed the gap between your lips, your eyes fluttered close, your mind going blank from the mere sensation of his soft lips against yours. Your hands found their ways into the locks of his hair, fingers buried deep within the soft locks as your lips moved in time with one another. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, your heart full just from the passionate emotions he pours into his kiss and you were sinking, drowning in the waves of feelings radiating off of him. 

But you knew that you couldn’t let this last any longer.

You pulled back abruptly, causing him to let out a soft whine before he took in the tears glossing over your eyes, mind going into overdrive as he panicked as to why you had suddenly teared.

“Taehyung, I can’t do this. I can’t let you do this to yourself,” you whispered, looking away from him to avoid seeing his reaction to your statement. “I think you should leave for reincarnation.”

The tension was so thick in the air that was void of any noise, and it took all your willpower to not break down then and there. “Y/n I will not change decision,” Taehyung whispered back, his tone dropping a few octaves as you detected hints of cracking towards the end of his sentences. “I will never leave you here alone, not after I’ve robbed you of almost a decade of love from myself, your other half. I can’t do that to you, you know that.”

“But Tae, that was ten years,” you snapped your head towards him, tears streaking down the side of your face. “You realise that you’re going to have to spend at least fifty more years in this place, so much more than I did. It’s not fair for me to rob you of a life that could bring you so much more, you deserve so much more. It’s not fair that you’re putting that chance aside for just one person, even if that person is me.”

“But you’re my happiness, y/n,” his own tears were now freely falling from his eyes, and you rushed to wipe them away with a tender swipe of your thumb.

“And you mine,” hand cupping the side of his cheek, you brought your foreheads together, staring deeply into each other’s eyes as you mustered a small, brave smile. “But we’re soulmates, our souls are tied together with a bond stronger than time, stronger than fate itself. Even if we lose our memories of this life, even if we’ll be separated onto two ends of the world, we will meet again. I will find you.”

“In dreams?” he whispered softly.

“In dreams.”

[mismaris]

Luke had put it off for a while now. He told himself that he should keep his distance, to protect the girl. She needed to leave. Any sign of him giving in to the brightness, the _hope _that she’d brought to the island, the galaxy, to him, would be catastrophic. He told himself he would stick to his plan. 

...But Skywalkers have never been very good at following rules, even ones set by themselves.

And so, as he watched the girl training on the cliff, swinging his old lightsaber with an ease he hadn’t been able to accomplish at her age- another reminder of the life she’d endured- Luke turned, and headed down the Jedi steps to the Millennium Falcon.

Chewie was outside, making repairs and adjustments. A small smile crept onto Luke’s face as he watched the Wookie pry open a hatch, only to discover a small family of porgs nesting inside. Chewbacca growled angrily, but the porgs merely chirped, their large eyes staring blankly up at the Wookie. Chewie growled again, practically yelling, and began to shoo them out of the hatch. Luke used the momentary distraction to slip past him, not quite ready to face his old friend yet.

Still, he couldn’t help but reminisce. The years in between the Battle of Yavin and Cloud City had been some of the best of Luke’s life. It was almost ironic, in a way. Back then, he’d felt like a hero- brave and invincible, fighting to save the Galaxy and become a Jedi. For just a moment, Luke was back on Home-1. He could see that freezing base just as clearly as if he had been there yesterday.

 Chewie angrily growled something at Han, who scoffed and crossed his arms. 

“I told ya, Chewie, ya gotta treat her well and then she’ll be ah, receptive, to your upgrades.”

A snort from somewhere below had Luke smirking as well.

“I hope your advice for repairing ships is better than your advice for dealing with women.” Leia said, and Luke took a quick look over his shoulder to see her lounging on a stack of crates. She hadn’t even lifted her head from her datapad, but the crinkle in her eye told him she wasn’t really reading it. Luke glanced up to Han, who rolled his eyes and straightened his shoulders

“Listen here, sweetheart, I’ll have you know that I can make any woman fall for me. In fact,” Han leaned an elbow on the Falcon, “I’m a wanted man on several systems, and not just for my smuggling talents, either.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Luke looked back to Leia, and saw her knuckles had turned as white as the snow outside, her fingers clenching around her datapad. She glared openly up at Han now, and when she shot Luke an angry glare as well, he quickly whipped around and buried himself in his own x-wing repairs. Artoo twittered a warning at him from the droid socket, and Luke wondered if it would be too obvious an escape if he suddenly powered up his x-wing for a “practice flight”. Thankfully, the crisis was averted as Threepio approached Leia with a request from Mon Mothma.

Breathing out, Luke was surprised he didn’t see his breath for a moment, before remembering where he was. This was Ahch-To, not Hoth. The memory of Han’s easy smirk almost chased him back to the cave he called home, but he forced himself forward. He owed it to Han, his brother in all but blood, to see at least this through.

It’s just a ship, Luke thought, finally entering into the main corridor. Nothing more than metal and wires.

And yet, with each step, Luke felt like he was walking into a living being. The Falcon was a creature that had been forged not just with mismatched parts, but with sweat and blood and care. He could feel the life flowing through each of her panels and compartments; the intricate inner-workings pulsing together. Han may not have been able to use the Force, but the energy the smuggler had put into his ship would live on long after him.

Luke had felt it, of course, the moment Han had been stabbed. The blinding agony of being run through not just with a lightsaber (the seam where metal met flesh and bone on Luke’s arm had throbbed in empathy), but also by a loved one, had brought him to his knees. And then, through whatever tenuous connection they still shared, Luke had felt Leia’s own heart shatter. Luke didn’t leave his cave for days. He didn’t cry, just stared at the cave wall. He’d wanted to disappear into that darkness.

The familiarity of being back on the ship had Luke’s muscle memory kicking in. His felt himself being pulled right, but he made himself turn away from the cockpit, heading instead for the storage areas. Everything was just as he remembered, the paneling on the walls, the dim lighting, even the constant beeping from one computer or another. All were there to help Han and Chewie’s smuggling business, and then later, the Rebellion.

After Ben had…left, Luke had too. He knew that eventually, Han would follow his example, but at the time it had been too hard of a truth to face. General Solo’s old nature had resurfaced under pressure, and the need to return to something normal, something familiar, that he knew how to navigate, had been what drove him away from Leia, Luke supposed.

The guilt of his own failings was what chased Luke up to Ahch-To, a place that had taken him decades to track down and to which, he’d believed, he’d be left alone to fade away. He’d taken whatever records of any sort of Jedi teachings with him, never to plague the Galaxy again. Luke refused to pass on what he had learned, not if it meant more families being torn apart by whatever prophesies of chosen Jedi, or Sith conquests, reared their ugly heads.

It had been time for the Jedi to end. 

And then, one day, from the solitude of his cave, he’d heard the familiar whir of engines. A bright light had broken through the darkness he’d draped around him like a cloak. It was clear and strong, with a purpose. Luke wanted to turn away from it, but the light called to him.

She’d called to him.

Luke hadn’t needed her to come with the Falcon, or Chewie, or Artoo. Hadn’t needed this girl, with hope in her eyes and the sense of finally finding something lost, to hand him his old lightsaber, his Father’s lightsaber, which had called to her, Rey, this girl who was his—

Luke stopped that thought, clamped down on it like a blast door closing. He would not allow himself the realization, kept it firmly placed behind walls that had been there for so long, they had become a part of his identity. She could not know the truth. While Obi-Wan and Yoda had feared such a revelation would send Luke down a dark path, Luke feared the opposite for the girl. It would send her straight into danger, more so than she was already in.

Wouldn’t it be better, a familiar voice said, if she found out from you than from someone else? Do not repeat the past, Luke.

Luke shut him out, too.

The corridor rounded out, lights flickering on as Luke entered the main hold. Closing his eyes, he tried to center himself, but instead, found himself drowning in the sounds of long-forgotten memories.

A Jedi uses the Force, feels it flowing through him.

There’s no such thing as luck.

Ben, why didn’t you tell me?

I shouldn’t have come.

It’s true, all of it.

Han must have known, or at the least, suspected, who she was. Leia, too, if she had been willing to let this girl complete the years-long search for her brother. Luke had felt the echo of his sister’s presence on the girl, could almost see her in purple robes, head held high, bidding the girl good luck as she headed off to find a man who did not want to be found. Did Leia know that about him? That he had come here purposefully? Maybe the map he had split, the pieces left with Artoo and Lor San Tekka, had rekindled hope that he hadn’t abandoned them.

That day he had arrived on Ahch-To had felt like a closing. An ending. The sun had been setting over the water, taking the light with it. Waves had crashed around the island, signaling a storm coming. Luke was sure that the ship he’d used to get there wouldn’t make a return trip. Though, he could repair it, could easily use its still functioning comms to call for help. Then he could undo what he had done, get off this rock and find—

 No. He had to stay. It was better, easier this way. Luke had ensured he couldn’t use that ship again, hiding it deep where no one could find it. It would rust down there, and not even the Force could fix something like that. As he’d stood there on the cliffs, watching the sinking shadow of his ship, he swore he could hear someone calling for him to come back…

Taking a deep breath, Luke shook off the lingering echoes of adventures long past. The memories kept alive by this ship were everywhere. If he turned back the way he’d come, he would encounter the ghost of his old self, whooping and shouting as he shot down TIE fighters. To the left, in the cargo hold, was where Han and Leia had shared their first kiss, before being interrupted by Threepio. Should he circle the corridor once more, he would hear the whispers of the girl and her friend, frantically trying to hide.

With nowhere left to visit, Luke finally turned to walk forward. It was, undoubtedly, the longest walk he’d ever taken.

Entering into the cockpit was like…coming home. With a slight wave of his hand, the Falcon powered up, her sensors and datascreens beeping to life. Luke turned in a slight circle, trying to take it all in.

“I didn’t know there was this much green in the whole Galaxy.”

Luke whirled, thinking the girl had somehow found her way on to the Falcon while he wasn’t paying attention. But there was no one there. Just empty seats.

“That’s no moon.”

He turned again, and again was met with empty air. Luke felt himself grow frustrated. Why had he come here? What was the point in torturing himself like this? He couldn’t change the past, couldn’t rewrite what had already been written in stone. The Falcon had once been his home, yes, but now it was just a ship. A hollow reminder of what once was, and what could now never be.

Maybe this was his punishment, for his failure as a Jedi, a brother, a son, a friend, an uncle, a mentor and…and a Father.

Those shields he’d so carefully placed around him broke, just slightly. Luke sucked in a breath, trying to reform them, but it was too late. He slumped down into the co-pilot’s seat and, for the first time since the Jedi Temple had burned in front of him, Luke Skywalker cried.

“Hey, hey, kid, why the long face?”

Luke didn’t bother looking up.

“Luke, I’m talkin’ to ya, the least you can do is look at me.”

Shocked, Luke did glance up, and found Han Solo, as young as the day he had first met him, staring down at him. Luke didn’t know what to say, but the words seem to come anyway.

“I’m…torn, Han. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” Luke sucked in a shuddering breath, clenching his hands on his thighs, “I was supposed to be all these things, and now I’m none of them. I’ve let down everyone.” With a glance to his left, Han sat down in the pilot seat, beginning to fiddle with the controls.

“Well, I don’t know a whole lot about that Jedi stuff, but what I do know is something about ships.” Wiping at his face, Luke frowned a bit.

“Please, don’t let this be another metaphor for women. If Leia hears—“

“She’ll what?” Han laughed, sitting back in his seat, “Fire me? Kinda hard to do that when I’m her only option for transport. Listen, kid,” Han turned towards Luke, leaning forward as if sharing a secret. Luke leaned in as well, “when you’ve got a ship that’s hard to fly, the best thing to do is to let it fly itself. Don’t try to shape its patterns or make decisions, ‘cause it’s just gonna fight ya the whole way. The only thing you can do is just be along for the ride.” He scratched the back of his neck, leaning back a bit. “I don’t know if that makes any sense, but it’s kinda like…like the force, I guess, right? How you have to let it…oh what did that crazy old man say…”

Luke felt a smile tug on his lips.

“Flow through you?” Han snapped his fingers.

“That’s the one. Yeah, you just gotta go with the flow. Don’t try to make the ship what you want it to be, it’ll tell ya.” Han patted the console fondly. “We can’t control the hand we’re dealt, but we can control how we live with it. You just gotta keep moving forward, and don’t look back.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, a rare bit of peace and understanding between them. Then it was shattered, as Chewie’s echoing roar came from somewhere in the ship. Han swore.

“Looks like Chewie needs my help, and if we wanna keep her Worship happy, I’d better see to it. You’ve got the controls, kid.” Han stood, ruffling Luke’s hair as he edged past the seats. He paused at the doorway, though, and turned to look back at him.

“Take good care of her for me.”

And then he was gone.

Luke sat there for a moment or two more, staring after him. Han wasn’t a Jedi, wasn’t even force-sensitive, and so he couldn’t come back like Yoda, or Obi-Wan, or even his Father had. It wasn’t possible.

And yet…

Something thrummed in the distance. Luke turned to stare out the cockpit window, up to the cliff where she was training. He could feel her light, but it was sharpened by grief and confusion. Without even knowing he was doing it, Luke reached out, parting the shields like pushing aside a curtain.

Instantly, she settled, finding some clarity to calm herself. Then a different sort of confusion blossomed around her.

--is that him why is he helping me now he didn’t want to before I don’t understand but—

Luke got to his feet, turning to leave the cockpit. He waved his hand, the lights powering down. As he walked through the ship, the echoes of the past were still around him, but he paid them no mind. He could not go back to them, but there was someone he could go back to.

Rey.

Walking off the boarding ramp, he heard Chewie’s surprised growl behind him. Luke turned, and raised a hand in greeting.

…Yes?

It was faint, like a child asking for permission to enter a room. She was young and untrained, and needed guidance. Luke turned to trudge up the Jedi steps.

Stay where you are. I’m coming back.