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cali-holland · 4 years ago

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Golden Hearts, Ch. 4: Hide Your Hand

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond AU ~ Sequel to Golden Bullets

Following a messy split, Harrison, Agent 007, resumes his role as an elite womanizer, after his recovery from his previous mission; meanwhile, you’ve stepped back from your 00 status, taking on cases as MI6’s assistant director from your office. When a new threat emerges to MI6 and a dear friend gets kidnapped, can you and Harrison set aside your differences to save special agent Q, better known as Tom? Or will the stakes- and your love, push you two further apart?

Word Count: 3300

Gif is not mine

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Warnings: violence (physical fighting, guns, some himbo punches a wall smh, bombs/grenades, character death, car accident, broken hearts), swearing, angst :)

Featured Song: “You Know My Name” by Chris Cornell from Casino Royale (2006)

“Try to hide your hand

Forget how to feel

Life is gone with just a spin of the wheel

Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you

The odds will betray you”

~~~

Harrison smiled in relief as he stepped inside his apartment, happy to finally be home after an excruciating week away. Austria wasn’t as easy as he had hoped, but, with the help of his new acquaintance Madeleine, he wasn’t too beaten up from the mission. Well, other than the bruises on his torso and his sprained wrist, but, really, he was fine. He couldn’t care less about his injuries though; his mind was just focused on you.

He hadn’t heard from you in a few days, and he thought that maybe your desk job was more time consuming than he had originally thought. Besides, it’s not like he could call and chat while taking out the enemy. He tried to call you when he landed, just to be sent to voicemail after the first ring.

Your radio silence continued all night, ignoring all of his phone calls. Even when he went to your apartment to check on you, you weren’t there. Harrison started to get worried, and he called Tom, who just told him you were working late.

The next day, Harrison stopped by your apartment again. Finding it empty, he continued his way to MI6’s headquarters. Moneypenny greeted him as he walked into your office. Again, empty. It was like you were a ghost again, even though Moneypenny was insistent that you were somewhere in the building.

Harrison found you in the training rooms, taking out your emotions on a punching bag.

“Y/N, I’ve been looking all over for you. I got in last night.” Harrison said, stepping into the room. You continued your assault on the helpless bag.

“I know.” You muttered under your breath, not sparing him a glance. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. Surely, this wasn’t his loving girlfriend that he had left in bed a week ago, promising to run away with her when he returned.

“If you knew, why didn’t you answer my calls?” He asked.

“Busy.” Your shoulders shrugged the slightest bit, but it was enough to thoroughly annoy Harrison. He grabbed your shoulder with one hand, fully intending on just getting you to turn and face him, but you grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm and using all of your strength to flip him over onto the wrestling mat beneath you two. Harrison let out a grunt, feeling the air get completely knocked out of him.

“Yep, missed you, too, love.” He mumbled, grimacing a little.

“This needs to stop.” You said, going back to attacking the punching bag. Harrison, still laying on the ground by your feet, looked at you questioningly, “Us. We need to stop.”

“What happened to running away? To wanting to be free of this life?” Not even waiting for you to respond, Harrison grabbed you the ankles, making you fall on your back with your feet by his head. Before you could move to stop him, he jumped up so he knelt beside you, his hands grabbing yours to pin them above your head.

“Let go of me.” You huffed, but Harrison could tell you were holding back with your struggles; after all, he was very aware of the fact that your feet were free to move. “It’s over.”

Harrison’s blue eyes searched yours for any trace of hesitation or regret or just something he could cling onto that meant you didn’t mean the words coming out of your mouth. But your eyes were cold and he felt his heart break a little at the sight. He couldn’t get out another word before you took advantage of his hesitancy, pushing up from the ground with your feet to knock him over, thus getting out of his restraints. You dusted yourself off as you got up. Making your way out of the room, you heard Harrison call out to you.

“Guess you really are a maneater, 006.”

He wasn’t sure if you even heard his angry words as you walked away, keeping your head held high. But he didn’t see the few tears that slipped past your eyes.

The only sound filling the train compartment was the rattling of the train as it pressed on to Tangier. The tension in the air was thick as the four of you sat quietly in the compartment. Madeleine was catching up on some sleep, and, across from her, Harry was also sleeping rather peacefully. As he snoozed beside you, you tried to do your best to stay focused on making hotel arrangements on your laptop at L’Americain, the hotel Madeleine’s father would visit often. Meanwhile, Harrison sat opposite you, right next to Madeleine, and his focus lied on the world outside of the train and occasionally on you.

While the previous night had been hard for you, it was also hard for him, and it was starting to take a toll on him. All he could hear in his head were the cruel words he should’ve never said to begin with when you two broke up, and all he could see was you seeking comfort in Harry’s arms last night. He wanted to talk to you, to tell you that there was nothing going on between him and Madeleine. He wasn’t stupid; he knew exactly what it looked like, but he also knew that, if he had to choose between you and Madeleine, he wouldn’t think twice before choosing you. Though, he didn’t really know why he let Madeleine kiss him and why he let it go that far… Maybe he was a bit stupid.

Seeing as Madeleine and Harry were both asleep, Harrison decided now would have to do. He couldn’t even get a word out before Harry stirred awake, and you turned to him, quietly telling him that the train would be arriving soon. He mumbled something in reply, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, but Harrison didn’t care enough to listen, not when all he wanted was a moment alone with you.

The rest of the journey to L’Americain in Tangier, Morocco, was, unsurprisingly, quiet. Madeleine was, reasonably, shaken up about returning to the hotel, and the three of you MI6 agents suddenly had absolutely nothing to say to each other.

“This was the room my father always got for us.” Madeleine stated when the four of you stepped into the hotel’s suite. Aside from the main room that was a kitchen, dining room, and living room all in one, there were two bedrooms and a bathroom. As you set your stuff down by one of the bedroom doors, you immediately realized that the room had only three beds. A small sigh escaped your lips and you had hoped it went unnoticed by the group, but Harrison managed to hear it.

“Just like Venice all over again.” He said. There was a hint of playfulness in his tone, and yet his words still ricocheted uneasily in your ears with a stinging pain in your heart. Harry shot you a quick, questioning look, but you just brushed it off, acting as if Harrison hadn’t said anything at all.

“Why would Tom tell us to find this hotel?” Harry asked Madeleine.

“I don’t know. My father would come here long after my mother left. He never told me why, but this room was special to him.” She explained.

“There must be something here.” You stated, assuming whatever it was Tom wanted you to find, whatever could lead you to him and Oberhauser, was hidden in this room. The four of you busied yourselves with searching the rooms for any trace of a clue. You and Harry looked in the smaller bedroom while Harrison and Madeleine checked out the master bedroom.

“So Venice, huh?” Harry asked you when you two were alone.

“What about it?” You replied. Feeling Harry’s burning stare on you, you glanced at the door to see that it was mostly closed, but you could spot through the crack that the master bedroom door was shut. You mentally rolled your eyes at the thought.

With a small sigh, Harry sat down on the twin size bed, still studying you while you rummaged through the empty wardrobe for anything out of the ordinary. “You know, when Tom told me you’d train me, he also told me to be cautious of getting too close to you. He said you’d been scorned by another agent recently and were still on edge about it. I never knew what he meant because who could hurt MI6’s best agent so much that she couldn’t recover?”

“Harry,” You sighed softly, knowing right where this conversation was headed. Your movements halted and you chewed on your bottom lip nervously, still not turning to look at him.

“No, I get it now. I understand why you’d always tell me ‘no’. I should’ve known I had no chance with you. Getting rejected by your trainer hurts, but still being in love with your ex must be the worst kind of pain.” His voice was quiet as he concluded. You let out an unsteady breath, feeling your walls slowly coming down. Silently, you turned and made your way across the room to sit next to him, both of you with your backs to the cracked door.

“Tom was the only one that knew.” You admitted, your eyes trained on your hands in your lap. “At some point in time, Harrison and I were a good team.”

“From what I’ve heard, you two made the best team.”

“Well, even the best teams have their faults.” You mumbled as you finally lifted your head to look at him beside you.

“What happened between you two?” He asked softly. His eyes welled with concern when another small sigh slipped past your lips.

“Everything.” You shook your head slightly, trying to rid your mind of the awful thoughts.

Understanding your pain, Harry’s hand trailed into your lap, and he ever so gently took your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. You scooted closer to him, leaning your head onto his shoulder and easing into his embrace. As much as it hurt Harry, he knew you needed far more comfort than he did right now, and he knew that your heart would never be his, not when it was so clearly still Harrison’s.

The intimate moment was cut short as a loud crash was heard from the other room, followed by Harrison screaming a curt, “Fuck!”

You and Harry shot up instantly. He reached for his gun as you looked at the door, noticing it was now no longer cracked and was, instead, wide open. You stepped out the room first, not hesitating to go into the master bedroom with Harry following right behind you.

“I said I’m fine.” Harrison insisted. When you opened the door, he quickly turned away from you and Harry. You looked between him and Madeleine, silently questioning what had happened.

“He fell.” Madeleine lied quickly. For being the daughter of a criminal mastermind, she was an awful liar. You went to step forward towards Harrison, and he turned around again, acting as if he was fine, but you could tell there was anger swimming in his blue eyes.

“What did you do?” You asked, catching sight of his knuckles that were already turning blue with bruises. Harrison didn’t grant you with an answer though.

“Some fall.” Harry scoffed a little, and Harrison narrowed his eyes at him. You looked at the hole in the wall curiously. It was no doubt from Harrison’s fist, but it almost seemed like there was no true wall there, just thin and hollow drywall. Wordlessly, you grabbed the standing lamp from the corner of the room and used the end of it to bash the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?” Harrison questioned in concern, moving to stop you, but you kept repeating your actions until the drywall fell through and you could all see a hidden room on the other side.

“I certainly never knew about this room.” Madeleine breathed out in disbelief. With the hole now big enough for each of you to fit through, you tossed the lamp aside and stepped into the dark room. The others trailed in behind you, and Harry found the light first, flicking it on and illuminating the dusty space.

“L’Americain.” You mumbled to yourself, relieved that finally something went right. Harry immediately sat down at the old computer to begin going through files. You, Madeleine, and Harrison rummaged through the old file drawers in an attempt to find anything useful.

While none of you quite knew what you were searching for, you still managed to find everything. Everything was here in L’Americain. When MI6 took down S.P.E.C.T.R.E., Oberhauser faked his death, taking on the name Blofeld. His new identity allowed him to maneuver through organized crime without being caught. From tapes to cold hard documents, White had evidence of Blofeld taking his captives to his house on the Morroccan coast, keeping them on his yacht of all places. With blueprints of Blofeld’s home, you all decided right then and there that his yacht was your best hope of finding Tom. And yet, despite all the new information you all acquired, perhaps the most surprising was what Harrison found in his stack of files.

“Isn’t this C?” He asked, handing over the file to you. As you looked at the picture, it was, without a doubt, the man who was about to control MI6 and all of British intelligence.

“C’s the mole.” You said, “He has to be. Tom got kidnapped and suddenly the Nine Eyes merge is pushed forward and then agent names are getting leaked.”

“Everything did kind of go to hell once he came into the picture.” Harrison admitted. You nodded, an awful pit beginning to grow in your stomach at the thought of C being the cause of everything.

“Wait a moment,” Madeleine spoke up, unsurely. “If C is going to control MI6 with the merge and Blofeld is funding him, why would they need to draw me out? Why would they bring me to Spain and use a mask of my father as bait?”

“Because they didn’t know where your father kept his secrets.” Harry stated, his eyes barely leaving the computer in front of him. “Every single move Oberhauser or Blofeld, whatever you want to call him, has made, White has tracked. This safe house would reveal absolutely everything about him and Nine Eyes. Its existence compromises everything.”

“And we’ve just led them there.” Harrison stated, making all of you turn to face him. “Think about it, MI6 knows our whereabouts. Y/N may have tipped Moneypenny off to keep quiet and M would never track us, but C has access to all of it now.”

“We have what we need. We need to go.” You urged.

The moment the four of you stepped out of the dimly lit side room, there was a loud crash as something came hurtling through the window. Everything was still for a second as you all tried to process what happened. Harrison spotted it first, the golden object with an octopus emblem separating you and him from Harry and Madeleine.

“Grenade!” Before you could react, Harrison grabbed your hand and you two jumped into the hallway as Harry and Madeleine ducked for cover in the bedroom. With his back against the wall, Harrison pulled you into his chest, doing his best to protect you. The bomb exploded just seconds afterwards, and you clung to Harrison, subconsciously searching for security. When the ringing stopped, you stepped back, looking at the abyss of the destroyed master bedroom.

“Harry!” You called out to him, trying to find any source that he was okay. You hoped Madeleine was safe, too, but she wasn’t really a priority for you.

“We’re okay!” He shouted back, somewhere under the rubble. You started to go towards the source of his voice, but Harrison’s hand found yours again, pulling you backwards. As you collided into his chest from the force of his pull, a piece of the ceiling crumbled and fell right where you had been standing. Hearing shouting from outside the hotel room, Harrison sent you an apologetic look.

“We need to go.” Harrison insisted.

“We can’t leave them.” You reasoned, but you couldn’t fight him as, with your hand still in his, he pulled you out of the hotel room. You ran down the hall behind him, his hand never dropping yours as you two went down the stairs. It wasn’t until the very first story that you two had been caught. Six armed men were about to make their way into the elevator when they spotted the two of you.

The two of you ducked at the base of the staircase, dodging their open fire from the hallway. Harrison got his gun out and did his best to shoot them down, but his handgun compared to their machine guns did little to nothing, and you had no gun in hand to help him out, not like you could do much damage either way.

“I’m running out of bullets.” Harrison warned. You stayed silent, looking around for any solution. Through the window, the movement of something shiny outside under the sun caught your eye. You recognized it immediately- a silver Aston Martin DB5 just parked right outside, as if it was waiting for the two of you.

“Shoot the window.” You stated, knowing his bullets would be better served shooting through the glass than you breaking it with your bare hands. Harrison barely looked as he fired a quick shot at the glass, and it shattered into a million pieces. He seemed to know exactly what you were going for as he ran with you out of the hotel window and straight to the Aston.

“I don’t have any more bullets.” He said, and you nodded, quickly hotwiring the car to start it.

“We’ll just have to make do.” You replied when the engine fired up. Before you could hit the gas pedal, another explosion went off, but this time, it wasn’t a hand grenade. No, it was a much larger, much deadlier bomb. Your heart dropped as you looked up at the windows of the hotel room you had all just been in, flames shooting through the broken windows while more of the ceiling and walls collapsed in on itself.

“Harry,” You let out a small whimper. There was no way he and Madeleine would’ve gotten out of the grenade debris in time.

“Y/N, you need to drive.” Harrison pulled you back to reality. You held in your cries, clenching your jaw in anger as you spotted the other men running out of the hotel’s lobby. They found you two immediately, and you drove off in the newly acquired Aston. You weren’t quite sure where you were driving to, just anywhere to get away from the men chasing the two of you.

It wasn’t long before they caught up to you two. You did your best to dodge their bullets on the busy Morrocan street, but the Aston wasn’t bulletproof and their machine guns were relentless. It seemed like no matter what you did, you couldn’t lose them, and, this time, Harrison was the one who was helpless.

One of their bullets caught your back tire just right and the car spun out of control, a thin cloud of smoke forming around the circle. The car slowed to a stop, just to be hit by one of their cars. The Aston somehow managed to flip, and both you and Harrison jerked in pain from the motion. Your head hit your window sharply, and, as your vision went blurry, you felt Harrison’s hand find yours one last time.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Harrison mumbled in pain, and that was the last thing you heard before it all went black.

~~~

pls dont hate me for harry...

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-hollands @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys @duskholland @biebsmylife95 @dummiesshort @perspectiveparker

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland @where-art-thau-romeo

Original Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01 @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @spencerreidxoxo

Sequel Tag List: @sara-1705 @bothlovinglyandhatingly

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield series #harrison osterfield x y/n

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moscnios · 4 years ago

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IRIS ━ﾞ

⁺◟ CHARACTERS . . . caesar zeppeli fem!reader mentions of lisa lisa ‘ joseph

⁺◟ GENRE . . . angst fluff oneshot

⁺◟ SYNOPSIS . . . the cold hamon user, ( y/n ), with the dull, sad eyes has caught the attention of caesar who wants to know her true story.

⁺◟ CONTENT WARNINGS . . . mentions of bruises ‘ scars ‘ violence ‘ dictatorship ‘ public humiliation ‘ beatings ‘ etc.

⁺◟ WORD COUNT . . . 1.6k.

⁺◟ COMMENTARY . . . kind of rushed but i actually like the way this one turned out.

A pair of peridot-colored eyes had peered into a slightly open door down a dark, cold hallway. The owner of gemstone eyes was a tall, broad-shouldered Italian with a head of light blonde hair.

He peered into the room through the slightly opened door, seeing a rather empty room. He knew this room. It belonged to another Hamon user who was training here on Air Supplena, the only other Hamon user besides himself as well as Joseph.

This room belonged to ( y/n ). The cold Hamon user didn’t mutter more than one sentence to anyone before excusing herself and go back to her training. All she had ever done was train. From the minute she woke up, from the minute she slept with very small breaks in between. Even if she wasn’t Hamon training, she would be doing some sort of training that had helped benefit her.

Upon first meeting, ( y/n ) quickly brushed them off, before wishing the newbies good luck on Hell Climb Pillar, to which she fairly enjoyed watching the two men struggle despite the blank look on her face that she held.

Despite her cold front, she had walked over to the tired Caesar, after he had finally reached the top of the pillar, offering him her hand. And that is when he looked into her eyes.

Behind those ( e/c ) eyes were a story, a dark story, that she tried to lock away but he could see. He could see the pain in them. He could see the sadness, the hurt, the anguish. Despite her irises being dull, he knew that there once was life in them, just like own.

And that was the first and last time he had looked into her eyes, mostly because she had been avoiding him. He felt he had done something wrong and it didn’t sit well with him, especially not when she was already so cold, only to become even colder just toward him.

Had he upset her but glancing into her eyes and trying to find their story? Had he overstepped his boundaries as his peridot eyes sparkled into her dull ( e/c ) ones?

What was wrong and why couldn’t she just tell him?

Noticing the blonde’s frustration, Lisa Lisa had told her student that ( y/n ) had a past that she didn’t wish to share, that turned her into the cold person she had become.

Caesar had asked her teacher what her past was to which Lisa Lisa had responded, “That is ( y/n )’s story to tell.”

Now here he stood in front of her door, hoping to find the right answers he was looking for, but he had come across her empty room instead. Training, he thought to himself, opening the door further.

He knew it was wrong to rummage through a woman’s belongings, especially when she’s not there, but his own curiosity got the best of him. He had to know what she was truly hiding.

He searched her drawers, nothing but clothes. He searched her bed, nothing but soft fabrics, including soft for where they had been. He searched her bags, not a damn thing.

There was something he was missing. Something that he wasn’t seeing. There just had to be something, he wasn’t going to leave until he found it.

That was until the door closed behind him, making him tense as his eyes widened.

“I’ll give you...two minutes...a minute to explain why you’re in my room, going through my things before I pummel like the vile man you are,” She threatened, his voice laced with anger.

Caesar gulped as he turned around, instead of his eyes finding hers, they had found her bruised torso. New and old scars and bruises had come into sight, many of them too big to be self-inflicted. There was no way one person could hurt themselves like that. He could even make out lash marks wrapped around sides that were exposed because of her crop top. Her arms were wrapped in bandages, may be hiding even more bruises that kissed her body.

“( y/n )..you...”

“If you’re going to talk about my scars, leave! I don’t need this right now!”

He struck a nerve. She showed...emotion. She wasn’t just a blank slate with a past so traumatic, it made her emotionally unavailable. She...she was still there. A woman with emotions, feelings, tears...love. It was all still there, just bottled up because of her own fear.

“I had no right to be in your room and I know that there is no excuse I can come up with that will make it alright. But...Lisa Lisa told me that, you had a past that you didn’t share that turned you into the person you are today,” Caesar hesitated, “I just wanted to know if that was true.”

A tense silence quickly filled the air, as she folded her bandaged arms across her chest, unable to even look at Caesar. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by her, “Under my bed. Look under my bed.”

Not wasting a second, he had did what she told him, searching under her bed, finding an old, faded wooden picture frame. Instead of the frame, was a ruined picture that had been weathered over some time now. He could make out a few faces, including one who looked a bit similar to ( y/n ).

“That’s my family in that picture. Or that was my family.”

“Your family...are they...?” Caesar trailed off.

“Dead?” ( y/n ) questioned, shrugging her shoulders as she leaned against the wall, “Not sure. Haven’t heard from them since I escaped with some others. They...they didn’t want to come with. They succumbed that scum rather than fighting for what they believed in! And I couldn’t stand for it, I wouldn’t stand for it! They struck us down and beat us like animals, all because we refused to lie down and obedient! I was...I was tired of being obedient like a fucking dog! I was on the brink of death before I could discover my Hamon powers and what I could do with them. They weren’t going to rest until they killed me, so I decided it was either run away or die there. And I ran...like a coward.”

“A coward?” Caesar repeated, making ( y/n ) looked down at him. His usually seen sincere peridot eyes were now filled with a mixture of sadness and rage. He climbed back up to his feet, “You? A coward? Absolutely not. ( y/n ), you stood up for what you believed in! You fought back! A coward wouldn’t fight back.”

“But a coward would leave behind their own family in a country that’s being taken over. And...and that’s what I did.”

The first tear from her eye had fallen, as she lowered her head in shame, she continued, “I left my family somewhere they aren’t safe. They could already be dead because of me and I wouldn’t know it. I kept scars, bruises, the humiliation I felt from being beaten in front of crowds and crowds of soldiers who hated my kind! I kept those sick laughs of those soldiers who...who...who...” She had broken into a loud sob, the blonde wrapped his strong arms tightly around her, pulling her into his chest.

A hug. Something she hadn’t gotten since this all had happened. Something she craved, something she needed. She returned his embrace, sobbing into his clothed chest, inhaling his unique scent as all of those suppressed memories finally came back to haunt her again.

Caesar rubbed gentle circles into her back, knowing the best thing for her was to cry. She needed to. She spent all this time pretending to be cold, pretending that she was okay. She needed a moment to just cry, just like anyone else did.

After what felt like five minutes, he heard her sniffle. She, still in his warm chest, sighed, “You probably think I’m not so tough now.”

“Are you kidding? If anything, you’re way tougher than I thought you were! You finished Hell Climb Pillar in 24 hours, you were already amazing. But, now knowing this, I know that you aren’t just strong physically but mentally as well. It must take a toll on you having to live with those memories every day of your life until the day you lay in your grave. I couldn’t even imagine it,” He mentioned.

( y/n ) picked her head up, looking into Caesar’s eyes. In those dull eyes was a sparkle. It was small but it was there. Even if her eyes were red and puffy from crying, they still shined like a star.

“Your eyes tell your story. I know it’s hard to open up all the way and I don’t expect you to. But I can see it in your eyes that you’re hurting beyond belief. And one day, I hope that...your eyes will no longer be sad but full of joy and hopefulness.”

She chuckled lightly, “I had heard you were quite a ladies’ man from Lisa Lisa, but I didn’t think you were this good.”

“No, I...s-sorry, I didn’t mean to―!” He stuttered out, being interrupted as ( y/n ) captured his plump lips in a soft kiss. Immediately, he melted into her kiss as he squeezed a bit tighter around her waist.

As their lips disconnected, she rested her forehead on his, “I was just messing with you. Thank you for your words, they really mean a lot. No one has ever said those things to me before. It’s like you really care about me.”

“That is because I do really care. When I first looked into your eyes when you helped me stand up after reaching the top of Hell Climb Pillar, I wanted to know who you truly were and not who you were trying to be,” He confessed, making her grin a bit.

“You can just say I’m not that good of an actress.”

“Fine, you’re not that good of an actress, but a nice kisser.”

⁺◟ BACK TO NAVIGATION . . .

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #caesar zeppeli #caesar #caesar x reader #caesar x y/n #caesar x oc #caesar oneshots #caesar scenarios #caesar imagines #jjba oneshots #jjba scenarios #jjba imagines #jojo oneshots #jojo scenarios #jojo imagines #night rather than day ── 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘰. 𓂃 ★☆

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justaghostingon · 4 years ago

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9+1 Gyrus Birthdays

To celebrate the birthday of a very special boy.

Gyrus’s first birthday in the Room of Swords passed with little fanfare. He, Don, and Cib were all too wrapped up making the Room of Swords up into a functional home, and between the additional harvesting of food and planning future expeditions, there just wasn’t time to think about things like anaversaries. The entirety of the celebration consisted of Don saying, “aren’t you twenty one now?” And Gyrus realizing that he was right.

He didn’t remember telling Don when his birthday was, but at that moment he was to tired and stressed to care.

Gyrus’s second birthday was spent on a mission. The storm was raging so fiercely that he’d been certain they’d all fall into the water and drown. But they couldn’t stop, not when two new people lay trapped against the rocks. A giant wave rose above Gyrus’ head and all he had time to think was, ‘21 is to young to die’ before it had swept his feet out from under him. As the water swirled around him, he reached out and grabbed a rock near Don, anchoring himself with his power.

Then Cib had appeared like a goddess of legend and rescued not only the two in peril, but also Don and Gyrus from the stormy seas. As Gyrus squeezed the water from his hair, he realized that he had being wrong. He wasn’t 21, he was 22 today.

But the two rookies were beginning to ask questions, and so Gyrus pushed it aside to think about later.

When Gyrus turned 23, Cib ambushed him in the halls. “It’s your birthday,” she as Ragan stood behind her, arms crossed. “You can’t spend all day working. We need to celebrate!”

Ragan nodded like this made perfect sense, and Gyrus wondered if they even had birthdays in the viking days, or if she was just going along with it because of her rather obvious crush on Cib.

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugged. “Besides, my work is important. The less time we have to spend worrying about food and other necessities, the more time we have to put towards missions.

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” Cib smiled, and for a second Gyrus thought he’d won. “Grab him Ragan! He’s sitting through an honorary theatre preformance whether he likes it or not!”

Gyrus had tried to protest, but it hadn’t done any good, Ragan grabbed him in a headlock and dragged him forcefully over to a makeshift stage, were Don was already waiting with the guitar, an amused smile on his face. Gyrus tried to glare, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to ruin their mood.

This time, Gyrus was prepared. The mission would be longer than he told Cib and Don, not to much longer so that their supplies wouldn’t run out, but long enough that it would conveniently end right after his 24th birthday.

It worked too, thanks in large part to one of the rookies falling in the frozen lake. As be breathed air into the kids lungs, he realized in a distant way that it was his birthday today, and he really didn’t want someone to die on his birthday. Maybe there was some value in having them in the Room of Swords like Cib insisted. Even if he did have to put up with Ragan’s terrible attempts at singing.

The kid gave a violent cough and rolled to his side, water streaming from his mouth. Gyrus placed gentle hands on his shoulders, muttering platitudes and comfort. Inside his heart soared with the relief. ‘My birthday present,’ a part of him thought, ‘is that you lived today.’

“What’s your name kid?” He asked as the boy managed to drag himself to his hands and knees.

Two blue eyes met his. “Kodya,” he whispered.

Gyrus never told Kodya his birthday, so when the kid led him to a table containing a haphazardly designed cake, he felt irrationally betrayed. “Me and Neph made it ourselves,” he said as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, “to thank you for saving us exactly one year ago.”

Gyrus’ shoulders relaxed slightly at the words. It wasn’t uncommon for rookies to count the days since their arrival. It was dumb luck then, that the day coincided with Gyrus’ 25th birthday. But still, he eyed the lopsided cake dubiously. “How much of our rations went into making this?”

“We didn’t take anything that wasn’t ours,” Kodya crossed his arms, a note of defiance in his voice, like he thought that somehow made this better.

“I am not eating all your rations, Kid.” Gyrus sighed. “We divided the nuitrients for a reason.” And then, because Kodya looks so absolutely devastated he added, “Besides, if you want to be my apprentice, you’ve got to keep up your strength.”

“Really?” Kodya lit up, practically bouncing on he toes. “You’ll take me on?”

“Sure,” Gyrus hid a smile, he’d been meaning to take the kid on for a while now, so it might as well be today, before the kid tried something even more drastic to get his attention. “Now help me divide these rations again before...” the door swung open as Cib marched in with a huge grin, Ragan and Nephthys on her heels.

“So I heard your birthday present baked you a birthday cake?” Cib crowed, and Gyrus regretted ever mentioning that little fact to her. It had seemed like a wonderful side step at the time to claim that the two safe rookies were all he needed and she really didn’t need to throw him a belated party, but she now seemed to take pride in taking it completely out of context.

“Birthday?” Kodya looked at him, eyes wide and confused. Gyrus bit back a curse.

Gyrus turns 26 at midnight, jolted awake from another nightmare. He tries to quell his fear, but the constant banging in his head makes every shadow seem like the real deal.

Eventually he gives up and takes the now familiar route to Kodya’s room. He barely even had to knock before the door is opened, and Kodya was ushering him safely inside.

He sits on the bed, its to small really for two grown men, but Gyrus doesn’t mind. He’s safe here, leaning against Kodya’s warm side, hands interrwined. Kodya’s magic courses through him, warm and comforting as Kodya himself, and Gyrus felt a wave of tiredness rush over him.

He leaned heavily against Kodya, soaking in more of his warmth. From so close he can see bags under Kodya’s eyes, and a shred of worry slips past the haze of peace. He doesn’t want Kodya to sacrifice his own mental health while waiting for him to inevitably come crawling back at night.

“You should come and live with me,” he murmured, filter gone under the soothing spell. “That way you could get some sleep instead of waiting all night for me.”

Kodya gave a sharp intake of breath, and if Gyrus wasn’t so sedated, he’d probably be mortified. But right now the warmth and trust twined together to smother any fear.

“Yes.” Gyrus blinked, to see Kodya’s face inches from his own. Kodya’s lips twitched into a smile. “Someone’s gotta watch your back.”

“Looks like you’re stuck with it,” he said a he settled back against Kodya’s shoulder.

Just as he began to drift off, he could have sworn he heard Kodya whisper, “happy birthday.”

When Gyrus turned 27, all he wanted to do is spend the whole day with Kodya. They’d been a couple for a few months now and he wanted to do something special, just the two of them. Unfortunately fate had other plans, as no sooner had they exited their room than Cib ambushed them with a smile.

“No escape for you this time,” she giggled as Kodya, that traitor, touched his shoulder, paralizing him from behind. “You’re going to have a nice birthday breakfast and you’re going to love it!”

“Why?” Gyrus whispered as Ragan picked him up, dragging him towards the dining room.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Kodya rolled his eyes as he continued to keep one hand on Gyrus’ arm at all times. “This is good for moral.”

The dining room is covered in bright colored ribbons and the strange conical hats that Cib insisted were necessary for the perfect party. A scream of “Happy Birthday!” met his arrival, and everyone pushed forward to bid the captive Gyrus their well wishes for his health.

Gyrus smiled and nodded and tried to look as gracious about all the attention as anyone who was hanging like a sack of potatoes over a Norse giant’s shoulder could look. But he was more than a little relieved when Kodya finally ordered everyone away and Ragan lowered into his seat.

The table is covered with all types of food, from scrambled eggs to Mandu to dishes even Gyrus didn’t know. It looks delicious, and Gyrus feels his mouth start watering as he stared down at it. It was amazing really, how much times had changed. He could remember not that long ago when this would have been all their food for a week.

Noticing his hesitation, Kodya nudged him in the shoulder. “Eat up,” he said. “We have Oli now, remember? You don’t have to feel guilty about eating someone else’s rations.” Which was true enough. Gyrus took a bite of the Mandu and closed his eyes as the familiar taste mouth. He saw Oli watching him and gave him an appreciative smile.

“Speaking of rations,” Cib started and Gyrus froze. “Remember that one time Kodya tried to make him a birthday cake from his?”

“Really?” Oli asked, looking intrigued.

“It wasn’t a birthday cake,” Kodya protested, but Cib shook her head.

“That makes it even funnier!” She cried. Kodya scowled, and the two began to recount the tale, as the others watched on in fascination. Gyrus looked around the room at everyone’s smiling faces as the did so. And for the first time he felt he had something worth celebrating.

Gyrus’ 28th birthday found him on the ship, clutching Nephthys’ jewel to his chest. He’d left the Room of Swords days ago, and between the physical toll of de-shadowing Hinju and the mental stress of leaving everyone he loved with Don, he barely even realized the date.

He wondered, in a distant, foggy way, if Cib would still have thrown him a birthday party, if he’d succeeded in killing Don. Maybe she would have, or maybe she’d revile him as a monster like she did now. Like everyone did. He buried his head in his hands.

There was one person who might be willing to hear him out. He raised his head slightly at the thought. Kodya. A small smile tugged at his lips. This would be so much easier to bear if Kodya was here with him, to tell him off or offer comfort, either would be preferable if it meant having him here.

The glow of the crystal caught his eye, and a thought passed his mind. Why couldn’t he go and see Kodya? The crystal was technically only supposed to be used for important things, but gaining a new member, that was important. His fist tightened around it.

The visions that danced through his mind were confusing and symbolic, but one thing was clear. He could visit Kodya one more time. Gyrus felt his lips pull into a proper smile as he teleported into their room to wait.

After all, what better way to spend his birthday than to see his favorite person?

Gyrus turned 29 with a sword to his throat and shadows swirling around him. It was ironic really, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “I didn’t think you had it in you,” he said to Kodya, whose life had been his birthday present, whose hands had been his death.

Kodya stared back, defiance mixing with tears. His face was the last thing Gyrus saw before the end.

Gyrus woke up under a strange sun, disoriented and confused. He checked his monitor, at Scouts prodding, to see he had only a few hours of air left. His eyes land on the date in the corner, and he absently notes it’s his birthday.

#room of swords #room of swords fanfic #gyrus #kodya #ciboulette #ragan #oli #gyrus' birthday #this was supposed to be short

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asterythm · 5 years ago

Text

and maybe one day i’ll get around to fixing myself, too.

Pairing: platonic LAMP/CALM

Word count: 8k

Summary: Patton’s getting real sick of this.

Warnings: crying, sickness, nightmares, fainting, blood mention, injury/burn mention, knives (of the kitchen variety), food mentions, one (1) word written in caps lock, probably about a million emdashes, whump with a happy ending.

AO3

--- --- ---

The mindscape was clean out of Kleenex.

Ah, thought Patton, moments before promptly bursting into tears.

--- --- ---

Approximately half an hour later, as Patton wiped down a pair of tear-stained glasses with the hem of his shirt, the thought occurred to him that he may be slightly more ill than he'd first thought.

Not that it really mattered at this point. Logan hadn’t left his room in days; Virgil, his bed; Roman was borderline delirious already. What with all four of them having somehow managed to fall sick at the same time, someone had to take responsibility. And seeing as Patton was currently the only one who could stay awake for more than five minutes at a time, that someone might as well be —

“Achoo!”

— him.

Patton sniffled, instinctively reaching for the tissue box before remembering what had caused his breakdown in the first place.

He frowned. Over the past few days, that box had grown to become his dearest friend; Patton scarcely went anywhere without bringing it along. They had bonded! Something about throwing it out so carelessly, like nothing more than a worthless object... it just rubbed —

“Achoo!”

Rubbed him the wrong —

“Achoo!”

Frown deepening, Patton mentally added 'replace tissue box' to his ever-growing list of things to do.

Gosh, if only Logan were here. How much simpler managing the mindscape would be with one of those handy-dandy schedules the logical Side always seemed to have on hand (pun intended)! Patton had tried to write up a few of his own in Logan's absence, but it just wasn't the same.

So here he was, stuck struggling to remember everything at once. Tidy the living room. Wipe down the counters. Hang the laundry out to dry. Patton ticked the items off one by one on his fingers as he ran through the familiar list. He was forgetting something, wasn't he? Replace the tissues. Wash the dishes in the sink. Make sure the others are drinking enough... Aha, that was it!

Patton was a little wobbly as he made his way into the kitchen, but managed to fill three glasses of water without once coughing into any of them — at this point, that was a win in his book. The hard part would be delivering them to the others.

At first, he tried carrying the cups on a makeshift cutting-board-turned-serving-tray. It took about two steps to realize that wasn’t going to work. His sense of balance was already poor enough when he wasn’t also dealing with a nasty cough, full-body chills, and a headache intense enough to make the room spin. “I may be a glass half full kind of guy, but sometimes you just gotta know when it’s time to drop it,” he said (out loud for some reason), followed by a solid minute of giggling.

Wow, he thought once he’d recovered enough to form coherent thoughts again. I am really out of it today.

Having now washed his hands of the water puns — nope, try again.

Having now gotten the water puns out of his system, Patton was ready to try a different angle. He left two cups on the table this time, opting instead to use both hands to carry just one. There’d be less spillage that way. For sure, it would take much more energy to make the trip up and down the painfully long spiral staircase (a result of Roman’s whimsy from a time when they were all more spritely) three times instead of one, but he couldn’t imagine an empty drinking glass would do anyone any good.

Besides, Patton was willing to do just about anything if it meant helping the other Sides recover faster.

--- --- ---

The first trip he managed with relative ease; Patton entered Logan’s bedroom to find him sound asleep, as expected. Tiptoeing so as not to disturb his slumber, Patton quietly set the glass of water at Logan’s bedside table, where he’d be sure to see it if — when — he woke up.

In the corner of the room, something began to buzz. Patton let out a tch when he saw what it was: an alarm clock that had apparently fallen off the bookshelf to bury itself deep into a pile of discarded clothing. Really, Logan — you’re still trying to get work done? In this state? He hurried to shut the alarm off before its muffled ringing could register in Logan’s illness-addled brain. Silly duck’s going to exhaust himself if he’s not careful.

The last thing Patton was expecting was to be unable to even locate the alarm. What had looked like nothing more than an innocent pile of fabric from across the room soon revealed itself to be an absolute mess of a garbage heap. The wrinkled polo shirts and ties were only the surface of the problem (literally); underneath them hid all manner of odds, bobs, hammers and tongs, metal scraps and fizzled-out lights and pages upon pages of crumpled-up notebook paper. Whatever this project of Logan’s was, it did not look simple.

Nor did it look at all organized, in fact, which was quite a contrast to Logan’s usual love of the methodical. It appeared the sickness was taking its toll.

Giving up on the alarm clock search for a moment, Patton peered around to spot even more things that were just slightly out of place. A book out of place on the shelf. A tie clip left on the dresser. A corner peeling off of the crooked periodic table poster on the wall. And, at the foot of Logan’s bed, several small cardboard boxes that hadn’t been tucked away.

Patton squinted at the boxes. Thick black Sharpie lines were scrawled into the side of each one, labels for them all. One, he could identify as ‘Green LEDs’; the others were harder to see from where he was, but he was willing to bet they were storage boxes as well.

Just then, the alarm clock abruptly stopped ringing, prompting Patton to glance back down at the pile he was trying to sort through. A flash of colour caught his attention: a bright green sticky note. Patton unfolded it to see ‘don’t forget to sort the supplies’ scrawled hastily across the paper, with the last few letters in ‘supplies’ trailing off as if Logan had barely managed to scribble out his message before falling into bed.

Well, while Patton was here, perhaps he ought to lend Logan a hand. Separating stuff into boxes seemed easy enough, right? And this pile must be a tripping hazard. With that in mind, Patton got to work.

Excruciatingly slow work. There was enough junk in that one pile to last Logan a lifetime, it seemed. Still, figuring out which little pieces went in which box did get easier over time, so he kept at it.

Eventually, everything was in its place but the shirts and ties, which Patton folded and left on the ground for Logan to organize as he pleased when he was feeling well enough. That’s better. Clutter-free, just as Logan likes it.

Then, with that taken care of, Patton had to come face-to-face with an unpleasant truth: it was time for him to brave the stairs once more.

On a regular day, he’d bound down two steps at a time, maybe even slide on the railing if he was feeling particularly energetic. Today, on the other hand, it was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other, clinging to that same railing the whole way.

The brief feeling of pride when he finally reached the bottom was quickly swallowed by the realization that he still needed to run (or rather climb) that gauntlet twice more.

Patton grabbed the second cup of water with a groan. Let’s get this over with.

--- --- ---

The door to Virgil’s bedroom swung open with barely a whisper. Inside, rows and rows of cobwebs stretched from floor to ceiling between the door and where Virgil lay fast asleep — a veritable horror that would usually send Patton away screaming, but these days he was almost too tired to care. Covering the rim of the cup with the palm of one hand, Patton carefully picked his way through to Virgil’s bed, where he could at last drop off his cargo.

He meant to leave immediately after that, not wanting to spend even a second longer than necessary lingering in the surely spider-infested room. Unfortunately, he didn’t get very far.

Patton’s hand was on the doorknob when it happened: without warning, Virgil began thrashing around in bed, violently enough to make Patton jump. Beads of sweat were breaking out on the poor anxious Side’s upper lip and forehead, the latter creased tightly in his distress, the former trembling in a silent scream. As Patton watched, Virgil’s movements grew more and more frenzied — bed sheets weaving between his legs, back arching, fingers clawing at some invisible foe...

Within the same instant, Patton was back at Virgil’s side. “Hey, hey, hey,” he comforted, “it’s okay. You’re safe. Papa Patton’s gonna protect you from the nasty night terrors, alright?” As Patton continued to make soft, soothing sounds, he gently took one of Virgil’s hands between his own, rubbing protective little circles with his thumb. “Shh. I’m right here. Shh.”

Jeez, he’s really burning up . The temperature of Virgil’s hand alone was through the roof — no wonder he was so feverish. Still, Patton didn’t let go of that hand until his kiddo had fully calmed down.

Now what? As badly as he wanted to just get out then and there (the sooner he was away from the cobwebs, the better), Patton couldn’t very well abandon Virgil like this. Paternal instincts kicked in; before he even knew what he was doing, Patton had taken hold of the mess of blankets tangled at Virgil’s feet and was methodically fluttering it out until the fabric was smooth again. That taken care of, he gave the blanket one last swish before settling it oh-so-lightly overtop of Virgil’s sleeping form, tucking the edges in snugly to make sure the fit was more secure this time. A quick fluff of the pillows around Virgil’s head, and he was done.

Satisfied at last, Patton stepped back to admire his handiwork. It was difficult to look away, really — Virgil, a shock of pale skin against the mountainous backdrop of dark blankets and pillows, seemed years younger in this state. Softer somehow. Especially without the usual eyeshadow darkening his eyes or the brooding expression darkening all his other features, he looked… vulnerable.

“Sleep tight, kiddo,” whispered Patton as the door clicked shut.

Turning away, Patton breathed a sigh of relief. Two down, only one to go.

--- --- ---

At first, Patton had hoped Roman would forgive him for saving the royalty for last.

By the time he’d stumbled down and up the stairs again, though, Patton wasn’t sure if he would ever forgive himself for making himself take that trip three times in a row — he was just about ready to keel over on the spot. About halfway up, he’d been seized out of the blue by a coughing fit that took a lifetime for that to pass.

Ironically, his symptoms only went downhill the higher he climbed. What began as a faint ringing in his ears eventually grew loud enough that he could hardly focus on anything else, and the more Patton tried to will away the dark spots crowding at the corners of his vision, the more persistent they became.

But the weight of the glass of water clasped securely in his hands had remained mostly unchanged throughout the entire hike. Still full. The water… is that really what I was doing? It seemed such a small thing now, to be at the root of all this misery.

But no — he couldn’t start doubting himself now, not when he was so close to being finished. Patton shut his eyes tight and gave his head a firm shake. That managed to clear away some of the dark spots, at least. Good enough.

“Okay… okay. I can do this,” Patton panted, sounding to his own ears even less confident than he felt. Yet still he pushed onward, determined to finish what he’d started.

Every step felt like wading through a sea of molasses. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Right foot — no, left — no —

Who am I kidding? I can’t do this.

In the middle of the hallway, Patton stopped, feeling an all-too-familiar tickle beginning to form in the back of his throat. No, no, no, no, no... He wasn’t sure he was capable of handling a repeat performance, especially not while he was still coping with the aftershock of the last one. Swallowing hard, Patton tried to force the cough down and keep moving.

It didn’t take long to figure out that ignoring the situation wasn’t going to be an option for him. The tickle was unbearable. Maybe if I could just clear my throat, Patton conceded, just lighten the pressure a bit…

That was all the permission his body needed. The thought had barely finished forming when the figurative frog in his throat came leaping out, doubling Patton over into one of the most painful hacking coughs he’d ever experienced. His chest felt like it was ripping to shreds. Blindly, he passed the drinking glass into one hand, then threw the other outward, feeling around for a wall on which he could steady himself.

Instead, his fingers gripped something warm. Sturdy, too.

The coughing momentarily subsided as Patton’s brain struggled to make sense of this new development. His gaze traced down to his hand, which was hanging for dear life onto... someone’s shoulder.

“Thomas? Is that you?” the shoulder said.

Patton did a double-take. Not because a shoulder was talking to him — the shoulder wasn’t talking at all, actually; shockingly enough there was a head was attached to that shoulder and of course it was the head that had spoken really — but because the voice was so familiar, and yet its owner had no business being out and about right now.

“...Roman?” Patton tried, tentative (his vision was still hazy).

“Roman,” the voice repeated, equal parts ponderous and absent-minded. “Huh, that’s a funny word. Roman. Roman.” Rolling the R’s: “Rrrroman. Rrrroamin’ the halls… stalking the halls, for the thrill of the kill. She’s the apex predator! Jungle rrrr-royalty! Watch out, everybody — this kitty’s got clawwwws.”

Yep, definitely Roman.

Poor guy was rrrr-raving, though. Seeing his friend like this was just enough to snap Patton out of his own feverish state. In alarm, he exclaimed, “Roman, what are you doing out of bed? You should be resting!”

“Who, me? Oh, so I’m the Roman. What are you, then? Floman? Wait, no I’ve got it — Snoman!” Roman giggled hysterically at his own joke before suddenly breaking into raucous song. “Frosty the snowman...”

“Okay! Okay, okay, shh, okay,” interjected Patton, trying to speak over the singing. “Roman, you’ve got a lovely voice, but you’re sick right now , kiddo, you understand? And you’re going to hurt that voice and the rest of your body if you don’t take care of ‘em. So do your favourite snowman a favour and drink this for me.”

Patton tried to hand off the (somehow still mostly-full) glass of water to Roman then, but instead of taking it, Roman just stared in a mixture of confusion and fascination.

Patton sighed. “Alright, plan B. Sit down.” Keeping his grip on Roman’s shoulder firm, he carefully settled Roman down to the ground, back against the wall.

A crooked smile. How long has it been since the last time I said this?

“Here comes the airplane.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Roman’s own mouth opened obediently. Patton raised an eyebrow. Huh. I wasn’t expecting that to actually work.

Not that he was complaining. Sip by sip, he coaxed the water into Roman until the glass was empty, Roman’s clouded-yet-curious eyes peering up at him through lidded lashes the entire time. When he was finished, Roman made grabby hands. “More.”

“I can’t, bud, I’m all out.”

“More,” Roman insisted, voice scratching painfully.

He’s probably been coughing that poor throat raw, too, hasn’t he? Patton realized. Figures he’d want more water. With a fond sigh, Patton gave Roman the now-empty glass. This seemed to placate him; as Patton helped him to his feet, he continued to hold tightly to the drinking glass as if it were a lifeline.

“I’ll bring you more for real once we get you to your bedroom,” promised Patton as he slung one of Roman’s limp arms over his own shoulder. Guiding Roman one step at a time, the two slowly hobbled back in the direction Roman had come, the thick silence occasionally punctuated with a sudden outburst which Patton quickly shushed.

He hadn’t noticed at first, but Patton could feel the sick Side’s body shivering against him all the way.

The short walk still proved exhausting to Roman, apparently; already half-asleep by the time they arrived, Roman didn’t waste any time dropping off into dreamland. Patton was left with the unenviable task of wrestling all of Roman’s many duvets, blankets, comforters, and accent pillows into some semi-functional-looking arrangement.

As he did so, the mental image of Virgil caught in the middle of an awful night terror kept flickering through his mind. A twinge of guilt. While I’ve been over here feeling sorry for myself over a silly little cold, Patton realized, these three have been way worse off. Roman couldn’t even remember his own name! And Logan… Logan’s still working himself down to the bone. I should have realized sooner. I should have taken better care of them. Should have, should have, should have.

But I didn’t, did I?

Patton rose to his feet, gently pulled the empty drinking glass out of Roman’s grasp (who mumbled an incoherent protest, but let go without much resistance). Maybe it was silly to have gone through so much trouble just to make sure his three little sleepy-heads drank something, but it was what was best for them, and Patton would do it all again in a heartbeat.

Really, he would. He was going to have to at least three times a day, anyway, if he wanted the other Sides to recover anytime soon.

And oh, at this point, he’d really love nothing more. Then and there, listening to Roman’s softly rumbling snores, Patton made a resolution: Whatever the cost, if it helps you, I’ll do it. I’d do anything for you three.

“Hang in there, Roman,” he whispered. “You’re gonna be feeling better in no time.”

--- --- ---

Tidy the living room. Wipe down the counters. Hang the laundry out to dry. Wash the dishes in the sink.

Are the others still asleep?

Vacuum the kitchen. Sort the bookshelves. Prepare dinner. Check on Virgil. Check on Roman. Check on Logan.

Did I check on Virgil? Better check again just to be safe.

Power nap. Breakfast time.

Hang the laundry out to dry… no, it’s already out there .

Wash the dishes. Make sure the others are staying hydrated.

Logan hasn’t touched any of his food since yesterday. The others seem to be awake more often, though.

Power nap. Dust the mantelpiece. Power nap.

Shoot, that was definitely longer than a power nap.

Organize the medicine cabinet. Water the plants. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Breakfast. Lunch.

When was the last time I tidied the living room?

--- --- ---

The strangest part was that Patton wasn’t cold at all. Quite the opposite, in fact; even the slightest of movements left him sweating nowadays, to say nothing of his twice-daily trips and up and down the stairs. Patton hadn’t had time to check his own temperature or anything, but was fairly certain he knew what the thermometer would tell him: burning up (and burning out).

So how come he couldn’t stop shivering?

Maybe I should ask Logan, Patton thought, before remembering that was out of the question. Sure, the others were doing much better recently, but Patton's promise had been to nurse them to full health, hadn't it? They needed their rest. He could handle a little shakiness in the meantime.

Besides, it was probably just jitters from all the coffee he'd been drinking. After that time he'd accidentally slept through an entire afternoon, Patton had been fueling up on caffeine so as not to risk a repeat performance.

Speaking of which. He peered over the rim of his empty mug. Time for a refill.

As he half-walked, half-stumbled into the kitchen, Patton mentally sifted through his list again. Had he washed the dishes after lunch?

No sooner than the thought occurred to him, he could swear he could hear the kitchen faucet start to run; the sound of plates and utensils clinking soon followed. Patton's brow furrowed. He couldn't afford to be going insane right now — he didn't have the time.

Unfortunately, it seemed that was exactly what was happening to him. How else but a hallucination was he supposed to explain seeing Logan standing at the sink, rinsing off dishes that he could have sworn he'd already done?

Before Patton could react, Logan glanced up. He blinked. "What are you doing here, Patton?"

Patton's mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. Were hallucinations supposed to be able to talk? I must be really far gone.

Perhaps the craziest thing of all, though, was the fact that Patton decided to talk back. "I think that's my line," he said without thinking.

Logan frowned. "I don't understand. We're not recording a video right now. To refer to our off-camera lives as if they were part of a pre-written dialogue simply does not make sense, unless I've been deeply misinformed for the past thirty years."

Okay, never mind. This was definitely the real Logan.

But then... that didn't make sense, either. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"'Supposed to be'...?" Logan turned the tap off, frustrated. "Alright, really. How have I been operating as a functional part of Thomas for so long without ever once hearing about this script?"

"No, no, there's no —" The rest of Patton's sentence was cut off with a sudden sneeze.

"Gesundheit. Wait, was that my line?"

Patton shook his head. "There's no script, Logan, it was a figure of speech. I just meant that you need to rest. You're sick!"

"I was sick," Logan corrected him. "I'd hardly say that term still applies to my current state, thanks to you. You've been working so hard to take care of everything in our collective absence; if anyone should be resting, it's you."

Patton was about to argue when another voice cut him off. "Alright, what's all the fuss about?" asked Roman, coming in from the dining room with a feather duster in hand, but stopping short upon seeing Patton. "Pat! I was wondering where you went."

"Living room," was all Patton managed to get out.

"Ah, of course, silly me! Look, thank you so much for all you've done. Why don't you go lie down now? I believe Virgil's still feeling a little under the weather, but Logan and I can take it from here."

Patton stared, trying to spot anything that might give Roman away as a fake produced by his addled imagination, but there was nothing. And oh, it was so tempting, the idea of finally getting to relax. He imagined his bed, feather-soft after so many nights of sleeping on the couch; his collection of stuffed animals just waiting for him to come home. How lovely it would be to just curl up and drift away...

Then Logan winced. "Patton, I beg your pardon, but where did you put the Advil?" he asked. "I checked in the medicine cabinet but couldn't find it."

Just like that, Patton's dreams of dreaming were gone.

Logan and Roman still needed his help; it would be selfish to abandon them now. No matter the cost, he'd promised, I'd do anything for you three.

His mind was made up.

Feigning innocence, Patton smacked himself in the forehead. "Ah, shoot," he said. "I think I must have left it in Virgil's room. Here, I'll go get it."

Roman immediately spoke up. "Oh, absolutely not. It's time for you to go to sleep, Padre. You go to bed; I'll get it."

"That's awfully kind of you, but I'm the one who asked." It was Logan this time, his words still a little stilted as he ground them out from behind what was most likely a headache of some sort. "It would be irresponsible of me to not go myself."

"Oh, come on, calculator watch, you're in pain!"

"Not so much that I've been rendered unable to fend for myself!"

"Guys, please stop fighting," Patton tried to shout, but his voice came out barely above a whisper. Yet somehow it did the trick — two sets of apologetic eyes turned to look at Patton. "Look, at this point I kinda feel like it'd be simplest if you just went together and that was the end of it."

Logan looked like he was about to argue, but Patton shot him a stern look and his mouth shut meekly.

"Great, glad we're all in agreement then. Come on." Without waiting for an answer, Patton turned and hustled both of them up the stairs. Come on, come on, come on... It was excruciating, but he had to make it look like this was no sweat if his plan was going to work.

The fact that Logan and Roman both had to take a break at the top only solidified Patton's resolve. If he'd had any doubts before, they were long gone now, replaced with one concrete goal: Get them somewhere they can rest.

"Alright, off to sleep I go," said Patton once he was satisfied that Logan and Roman would both hear it. "Thanks, guys."

"Anytime."

"Oh, and would you do me a favour? Could you please close Virgil's door when you're in there? I think there's a bit of a draft in the hallway and I don't want Virgil to get any worse." Which was the truth. (So what if everything else he'd been saying wasn't?) With that, Patton disappeared into his room.

He didn't go to bed, though — even though every bone in his body was screaming for him to. Instead, he pressed his ear against his wall and listened. A click, the shuffling of feet, and then another click as the door closed.

Patton didn't waste any time leaping into action then. Fast as his legs could carry him, he grabbed a chair and jammed it under Virgil's doorknob. A second chair soon followed, as well as a stack of boxes and a small table. He could hear a muffled commotion beginning inside as Logan and Roman realized they’d been barricaded inside.

The doorknob rattled. Patton ran.

His feet moved fast, but his thoughts were faster still, and with every step they grew more and more muddled. Had he really just done that? Maybe this is going too far.

On the other hand, Logan and Roman were only slowing down their own recovery by trying to “help out”. Patton had been handling things just fine by himself so far, after all; why try to fix what wasn’t broken?

He needed a distraction.

Luckily for him (or unluckily, depending on how you wanted to look at it), there was never any shortage of things to be done around the mindscape. For one, he still hadn’t prepared that chicken soup he’d been meaning to. No time like the present.

Again to the kitchen, as if in a dream. He just kept finding himself back here, didn’t he?

Patton tried to grab a large stockpot off the shelves and nearly hit himself in the face.

This thing is so much heavier than I remember, he thought, grunting. With a considerable amount of exertion, he lugged the pot over to the sink, then leaned against the wall to catch his breath as it filled up with water. Maybe I could close my eyes for just a second...

Patton woke to an overflowing stockpot and the taste of blood in his mouth.

“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” Ignoring a splitting headache — he’d dealt with plenty of those over the past few days, one more was hardly going to faze him — Patton leapt to his feet to turn off the tap. A groan. He couldn’t believe he’d been careless enough to let something like this happen again.

Lamenting the waste but left with no choice, Patton tipped the pot over and watched its contents swirl down the drain. Once that was finished, he carried the pot out of the sink, took a step, and immediately stumbled. Funny — the room was swirling, too.

Gosh, his head was killing him.

He’d probably hit it against the counter just now, maybe bit his tongue by accident too. At least that would explain why, after setting the pot of water on the stove to boil, Patton couldn’t for the life of him remember what came next.

What would Martha Stewart do? he wondered. Add vegetables?

Vegetables seemed as good a guess as any. Celery, and garlic, and probably carrots too, except Patton did not care much for those and would rather keep the carrot-to-soup ratio to a minimum. He pulled one out of the fridge anyway, if only to fool himself into thinking he was doing the right thing.

Patton gripped a stalk of celery, preparing to chop, except suddenly the stupid shiver was back and the blade of his chopping knife slid off the stupid dumb vegetable and nicked his own stupid dumb idiot finger, and had those little red dots on the cutting board always been there? How come his finger hurt so much, too?

Patton gritted his teeth. Perfect. Just nifty. This was exactly the kind of stupid-dumb-idiot moron-thing he needed to deal with right now.

Maybe, just for today, it’d be easier to break the vegetables by hand instead.

With that thought, he tried to slide the knife back into its holder, but fumbled. In slow motion, the knife slipped out of his shaking hands; a loud clatter rang out as it fell to the floor, sharp blade narrowly missing chopping off one of his toes.

For several seconds Patton just stared, heart threatening to pump out of his chest but brain a little slower on the uptake.

Then, to his own surprise, he began to laugh.

All the confusion and adrenaline and exhaustion and hysteria of the past few days crashed together in an instant, and Patton couldn’t do anything but stand there and take it. He laughed until it hurt to breathe, until tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, until he had to grab onto the stovetop to support him in case he passed out for lack of air — he couldn’t stop. The pot was boiling over. He couldn’t stop.

He wasn’t sure, but he thought someone might have been calling his name. Maybe it’s God, Patton’s feverish mind rather unhelpfully supplied. Maybe my time has finally come. That would explain why, the next time he blinked, it was suddenly as if he were looking down at himself from above. He watched as shaky laughs turned to desperate breaths turned to hacking and coughing and choking, turned to not breathing at all. He watched as already-pale skin turned even paler. Eyelids fluttered shut. Fingers released their iron grip, and knees buckled.

Three indistinct-yet-familiar faces came running down the stairs just in time to see his silently swaying body go crashing to the ground, and that was the last thing Patton got to watch before everything went very, very dark.

--- --- ---

Someone was snoring.

This was unexpected — first and foremost because Patton was sure he would remember inviting any of the others for a sleepover — but not entirely unpleasant. Lulled by the gentle rumble, Patton snuggled deeper into his blanket’s warm embrace and tried to reclaim the nice dream he’d been having a moment ago, even though he could tell he’d already been asleep a long time. He felt more refreshed than he could ever remember feeling.

Was today some kind of holiday? In his drowsy state, Patton couldn’t for the life of him remember the date. Ah, well. Either it was, or it wasn’t — and if it wasn’t, surely Logan would be coming by any second now to wake him up and make sure they stay on schedule. Patton couldn’t think of any other reason why he would have been allowed to sleep in for this long, let alone with a mystery person in the same room to boot.

Speaking of… who might that be?

Patton opened his eyes, but for a moment wasn’t quite sure that he had. His surroundings appeared just as dark as the insides of his eyelids. Add that to the list of unexpected things: had he not slept in, after all? But then why did he feel so well-rested? And what was this mystery person doing in his room in the middle of the night?

Sluggish though his brain was, Patton cast aside all hopes of sleep then in favour of trying to remember what might have happened yesterday to lead to this strange set of circumstances today. Memories started coming to him in bits and pieces then: a bright green sticky note marked with bold Sharpie lines, a veritable maze of cobwebs and clawing hands, the weight of an arm around his shoulders…

Oh, goodness.

This was no holiday. Patton had slept for far too long.

How long, though? How long have I left the three of them to fend for themselves? Patton wondered, fighting frantically now to extricate himself from the grip of the same sweat-soaked blankets he’d earlier been clinging to. He had to get out there, had to get back to work… Another memory stopped him short: he’d locked them into Virgil’s room.

Patton sat bolt upright. I locked them into Virgil’s room!

He regretted the abrupt movement less than a second later. A searing sensation shot through his left hand, which he’d instinctively used to push himself up, and the previously-dull ache in his chest was flaring up to match. At the sudden pain, Patton couldn’t help but let out an inadvertent yelp.

It was only after the snoring stopped that Patton remembered there was someone else here, too.

He barely had time to process the thought before the mystery person was on their feet, probably on high alert. Patton’s good hand shot up to cover his mouth, as if silence would somehow render the mystery person unable to find him in this tiny enclosed space.

A hushed voice.

“Are you… awake?”

In the dark, Patton blinked. “Virgil?”

His mind was racing a mile a minute trying to keep up with all these new revelations. Why was Virgil in his room? Why was Virgil asleep in his room? Why was Patton asleep in his room, instead of out there making dinner like he could have sworn he’d been doing before? No, that last one was silly — it was clearly past dinnertime, if the darkness surrounding them both was any indication.

Still. Why was Virgil in his room?

Patton opened his mouth, unsure where to start but desperately needing to put a voice to some of the confusion. Before he could get even a single word out, though, Virgil cut him off.

“Oh my g — Patton, you’re back!” Virgil said, volume rising in his excitement. “You’re back, you’re — you’re talking to me!”

Patton’s intelligent response: “Uh. Yup.”

“I — sorry, I just... I can’t believe you’re finally awake. You really scared me there.” Virgil’s voice was a little quieter now. “Scared all of us.”

“What do you…?” Patton paused as the full implication of his friend’s words set in. “Virgil, how long have I been sleeping?”

The silence went on for just a second too long before Virgil spoke, this time the quietest of all. “A little over a week now.”

Patton’s mouth went dry.

No way. Was that even possible?

“Yeah, you were out like a light. Roman was maybe a second away from stabbing you just to get a response.” Virgil swallowed hard. “Hell, Pat, for a moment I almost thought you… weren’t gonna wake up at all, you know?”

“Gosh, Virgil, I’m sorry,” was all Patton could get out.

“Hey, no, don’t be,” Virgil hurried to backtrack. He huffed out a laugh; too shaky to be convincing, but Patton appreciated the effort. “Ugh, just listen to me going on like this. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you in the first place. You’re here now, aren'tcha?”

“I guess,” said Patton, slowly at first. “But why did it have to be here specifically?”

“What?”

He gestured at the door (or in its general direction; it was still too dark to see clearly). “I should be out there, Virge! I should be helping! It’s like you said, I’ve been asleep for more than a week while all of you guys were worrying over me. All I ever wanted was to make this stupid fever easier on you, and look how that backfired —”

“Hey, I’m gonna stop you right there. Look at me.”

Patton sniffled. “I can’t, it’s pitch black in here.”

“...right. One sec.” As Virgil spoke, Patton could hear him busily fumbling around trying to find something.

Moments later, a flood of daylight assaulted his senses, bright enough to blind him (or at least give him a killer headache, but what else was new?). Patton shrieked like a thing possessed.

“Virgil, what the heck? I thought it was midnight or something!”

“Nope,” replied Virgil, returning to what Patton could now see was a folding chair set up next to Patton’s bedside. The same chair he’d used to block the rest of the Sides into Virgil’s room, Patton realized with a guilty start. “4:00 PM, according to that clock above your bed. You’ve just got really nice light-blocking curtains in here. D’you think you could hook me up sometime?”

“But you were asleep!”

“Yeah, I’ve been waiting here for some time. My hibernation instincts kicked in.” That just raised even more questions, but Virgil waved them away. “Not the point. Now look at me.”

Patton looked. What he saw was an exhausted, unnaturally pale young man with eyeshadow several shades darker than usual. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“Someone who cares about you just as much as you care about them, Patton,” was the reply. “Listen, while Roman and Logan and I were sick, you took responsibility for everything. You were juggling so many things at once, and honestly it’s kind of unbelievable that you managed to go for as long as you did without dropping any of them. But the truth is, that’s just not healthy. You ended up overworking yourself so much, you literally passed out because of it. Not to mention what happened to your hands.”

“My hands?” Patton repeated. “What do you…?”

The rest of his question died on his lips once Patton looked down. His brain must be even hazier than he’d thought, because once he saw the fresh white gauze carefully wrapped around both palms, he had no idea how he’d managed to miss them.

Patton didn’t quite understand until another memory pushed to the surface: him clinging to a heated stovetop, boiling water spilling over the sides of a stockpot.

Suddenly, the burning pain he’d felt when he’d pushed himself up earlier made a lot more sense.

But something still didn’t add up. “Who’s been changing my bandages?” Patton asked, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Virgil’s silence only confirmed his suspicions.

It was him. Of course, it was him.

“Doesn’t matter,” the anxious Side finally said. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s your turn to rest. You deserve it. Let us do the work for a change, okay?”

“But —”

“No buts. Or else I’m gonna get Roman and Logan in here, too.”

“You don’t need to —”

“Too late, I’m already doing it.” Never once breaking eye contact with Patton, Virgil leaned out the door to shout downstairs. “Hey, losers! Patton’s awake!”

“What?!” Roman’s voice distantly shouted back.

“Virgil, really, I’m not worth the trouble — ”

“And he’s talking bad about himself!”

Logan this time, at near-’falsehood’ levels of volume: “WHAT?!”

A loud crash, as of a dinner plate shattering. Patton winced. No time to worry about that now, though; he could hear urgent footsteps threatening to pound right through the stairs if someone wasn’t careful.

Logan was the first to arrive. The huffing and puffing stopped short, as did his movements, once he caught sight of Patton sitting up in bed.

“Patton, I…”

Despite everything Logan might say to the contrary, behind his thick glasses, dark eyes brimmed with all manner of emotion. For once in his life, the eloquent Side appeared to have been rendered speechless. Silence stretched for an instant.

The instant didn’t last long.

Next thing either of them knew, Roman was blazing into the room, recklessly shoving Logan aside in his quest to reach Patton and envelop him in the most bone-crushing bear hug he’d ever received.

“Woah,” wheezed Patton.

“Oh, thank Madonna,” was Roman’s response, sobbed out into the nape of Patton’s neck as he squeezed even tighter. Patton let out a squeak.

“Hey, Roman? This is great and all but you’re kind of crushing me so if you could loosen up just a bit so I could breathe thatwouldbe great — ”

“Right, I’m sorry.” Reluctantly, but just in time, Roman released his still-fragile friend. Down went Patton, breath coming in little wheezes that would be almost comical if it weren’t for how uncomfortably familiar they felt.

Roman opened his mouth to continue his thought. Logan shot him a glare. “At least wait until his lips are less blue,” he hissed.

“No, it’s alright,” Patton managed to say. “Go ahead, Roman, don’t worry about me.”

A sigh. “Hate to break it to you, but I think it might be too late for that.” Roman seemed uncertain of where to put his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re okay. You wouldn’t believe how relieved I am! But still, we were all so worried about you.”

Taking care not to disturb the bandages, Patton pushed himself back up to a sitting position so he could give Roman a sympathetic look. “Aw, Ro.”

“Would you mind if I… hugged you again? Gently.”

In response, Patton opened his arms. And oh, Roman hadn’t been lying — this time, he embraced Patton gingerly, his touches if at all, as if Patton was a delicate butterfly and even the slightest pressure would snap one of his wings.

His heart broke. Did Roman not know how safe he felt in the creative side’s arms? Yes, he’d seen those arms slay dragons, but he’d also seen them weaving flower crowns and adding finishing brushstrokes to paintings and bringing nectar to hummingbirds, and all manner of equally delicate things.

Don’t worry, Patton wanted to say. I trust you.

But Roman pulled away before he had the chance.

“I really am glad to see you awake, Patton,” he murmured into Patton’s ear, thumb still softly tracing circles on Patton’s shoulder — until, without warning, his grip tightened and Roman pulled back to look at Patton with an intensity he’d never seen before.

“Roman?”

“Listen to me,” Roman demanded in response. His eyes seemed to be boring right into Patton’s. “Don’t you dare do that again. Ever.”

Patton’s forehead wrinkled. “Do what?”

“Prioritize our health at the cost of neglecting your own.” Although quiet and controlled, the sound of Logan’s voice momentarily startled Patton; the logical Side had been patiently standing off to the side for so long, they’d all forgotten he was even there. “Patton, I appreciate that you were only trying to help, but there is a fine line between selfless and self-sacrificial. And you crossed it.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Patton, lips twisting off to the side in an uneasy frown.

But Logan wasn’t finished. “You may have thought you were doing us a favour by refusing to allow us to assist you. But at that point, when we were clearly in a better condition than you, your actions only put all of us at risk.”

“Hey, teach? Maybe dial it back a bit?”

Logan didn’t appear to have heard Virgil. He absently pushed his hair back with one hand, which then rested on the back of his head. “Do you know how frightening it was to see you reduced to a — a heap on the floor? Do you realize what could have happened had Roman’s sword not been strong enough to chop through the barricade you made at our door?”

“Logan,” Virgil repeated, more firmly this time.

“Your job is to serve as Thomas’s Morality.” Both hands were buried deep in his hair now. “You can’t do that if you’re — ”

“I’m sorry,” Patton breathed.

Logan caught himself, glanced over to see Patton wearing an expression Logan could only describe as being akin to that of a kicked puppy. Oh, no.

“I just… you all were so much worse off than me. The only one who could even get out of bed was Roman, and if you’d seen him wandering around like I did, not even remembering his own name, you’d be worried too!” Patton drew in a breath, gingerly pulling his arms in towards his body and refusing to look at the already-worried faces his friends wore around him. “It felt so selfish, the idea of taking a break while you three so obviously needed help.”

Above his head, Logan glanced at first Virgil, then Roman. Someone ought to say something. But seeing as both Virgil and Roman appeared to be struggling for words, that someone ought to be —

He heaved a sigh.

— him.

Taking care not to jostle Patton too much, Logan lowered himself down onto the mattress and laid a hand on Patton’s back, right where he himself had often felt the moral Side’s comforting touch after straining his eyes on a laptop screen late into the night. Patton flinched a bit, but didn’t pull away.

When he spoke, it was with a voice gentler than any of them had ever heard Logan use. “It’s never selfish to ask for help.”

On the other side of Patton, Logan felt rather than saw Roman nod. “I’m with Pouty McSpecs over here,” he said, perhaps trying to lighten the mood a bit. “As the late, great Ms. Frizzle once said: Do not be afraid to ask for help. Nobody gets through college on their own.”

Logan blinked. “That... was Michelle Obama.”

“Yeah, there were so many things wrong with that statement I’m not even gonna try and unpack it all,” Virgil agreed.

“I’m pretty sure it was the Friz.” Roman shook his head. “Anyway, not the point. You see what we’re saying, right, Patton? You won’t be able to take care of anyone if you’re not properly taking care of yourself first.” He gestured to Patton’s injured hands. “I mean, all this for a bowl of broth?”

“Not the time, Princey.”

“Sorry.”

“Speaking of time.” Virgil rose to his feet with a stretch. “I think it’s time for us to leave you be. You still need your rest.”

Patton opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off with a yawn so long he couldn’t remember what he’d meant to say by the time it was finished. Already-flushed cheeks grew even redder with embarrassment.

“I rest my case.” He turned to the others. “Come on, I’m pretty sure someone’s got a shattered dinner plate to clean up.”

Roman flinched. “Ah. That.”

“Yeah, that. Let’s move!” As Virgil shooed Roman and Logan out of the room, he snuck one last glance back at Patton, who had a lopsided smile on his face, crooked in the most genuine of ways, as if biting back a laugh as he settled himself back down under his bedsheets and snuggled in tight.

Something fluttered in Virgil’s chest. Warm, it felt, and light and fuzzy and — and inexplicable, until he realized: it was the first time he’d seen Patton smile in weeks.

Patton was alright. Everything was going to be alright.

“Sleep tight, pops,” whispered Virgil as the door clicked shut.

--- --- ---

A/N: i set out to write a 2k vent fic in a day and ended up writing this exclusively in half-hour chunks over the course of three weeks. whoops. but i mean, here we are — and here you are, having read all the way to the end, so… leave a comment maybe? :’)

Taglist (not sure if this’ll work since this is a scheduled post but eh, worth a shot): @surleytemple @starryfirefliesbloggo @icecoldparadise @lyditist @fandom-random2405 @beach-fan @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @starryeyedhomicide @unring-this-bell @flix-net @pheonix-inside @thelowlysatsuma @residentanchor @sanderstalker

#sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #spectral scribbles #spec made something #tw crying #tw sickness #tw nightmares #tw night terrors #tw fainting #tw blood mention #tw injury mention #tw burn mention #tw knives #tw food #tw food mention #scheduled post

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iphoenixrising · 5 years ago

Note

Jealous dami?

Well babe. Well…

(Post Dr!Tim: Arkham Breakout)

Bats echo overhead, and Robin grinds his teeth when Todd tells him to get off the comm wave, they will be taking care of Dr. Drake after the events of the escape from Arkham. It’s most irritating.

Father is still out in the city, wrapping up loose ends of the night, and taking a final patrol swing to work out his remaining aggression. it is not surprising as Dr. Drake has apparently endeared himself to them all.

Pennyworth is tisking when Grayson and Todd refuse to bring the trauma surgeon to the Manor, opting instead to tend to him in his penthouse Perch themselves. The irritant here is Pennyworth not insisting they return to the Cave where the doctor will have the best chances for successful recovery.

Tt.

“Very good, Sir. Should you need anything, please do not hesitate to call. Agent A out,” a raised eyebrow at him does nothing to soften his mood. “As for you, Master Damian, I’m afraid Master Jason is correct as you do have school in in the morning. Best to get a few hours.”

He throws his hands up in frustration but starts upstairs without a fight. He’s already out of the mask for the night, pauses a moment to let Titus and Alfred the Cat in his room before he closes the door. He absolutely pulls out his laptop and fires it up as he slides under the covers.

Hacking into the camera in Drake’s penthouse is simple enough that he really should say something to Todd and Grayson, but enjoys the convenience of easy access.

Alfred nudges himself in Dami’s lap. With a sigh, he pushes the laptop further up on the bed so the cat will lay down and settle while the camera feed loads.

The black screen queues with Grayson and the Todd moving through the window, and huddled in Grayson’s arms is their Doctor. Dami’s eyes narrow critically, looking at the stains on the side of the scrubs, obvious bruises and raw skin.

Regardless of how bravely some inmates reported Timothy acted, the events had taken their toll. He is slumped in Grayson’s arms while his vigilante brothers talk over his head, Todd already pulling the large first-aid kit out from under the sink.

Of course, their physician regains enough of himself to walk down the hallway on his own steam, waving a careless hand over his shoulder, making Dami fairly seethe when Todd and Grayson remain in the kitchen, talking with one another rather than immediately follow.

Drake was in an accident, was thrown from and ambulance, has withstood the likes of the Joker, Scarecrow, Ventriloquist, Clock King, Two-Face, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Mad Hatter, various thugs, henchmen, thieves, murderers, and raving lunatics. He should be made to rest and his wounds immediately treated. As per his usual behaviors, he should be fed something calorie-laden and put to bed.

He would need to be lectured extensively about the consequences of dealing with Gotham’s underbelly, told he could no longer go to Arkham, that he would need to be safe.

There is no safety in Arkham, and only more danger to be had associating with even more connections to criminals.

(Honestly. Do they not recall who stopped the first group of ninjas to catch on to Drake’s importance to the Bats? Taking those ninjas, beaten beyond recognition, straight back to the Demon’s Head had definitely sent a message. Annoying his mother was simply an added benefit.)

Before Drake stumbles blindly into another catastrophe, Todd and Grayson need to learn to care for him better.

Sliding down in his bed, he leaves the screen on to see the bathroom door open, steam roll out from the recent shower and catching those two finally doing something right.

Grayson is drying his hair while Todd treats the injuries. He yawns and rolls on his side, dislodging Alfred the cat. She gives a series of kitten chirps and hops down while Titus circles around on his bed by the door and flops down with a heavy sigh.

His eyes are bleary and thoughts syrupy, pouting and half-asleep as Todd gets to insist by just manhandling Drake, and the two get to effectively bracket their doctor in on the sofa until he goes limp, also almost asleep.

Damian doesn’t finally drop off until Drake is finally asleep, being carried gently down the hall toward the bedroom while Grayson turned off the television and the lights, follows with a yawn, and pulling his shirt off as he goes.

When the door on the screen closes, he can reach out with a flailing hand and to push the laptop closed.

He can fade into sleep, the strain from containing the madness of Arkham sliding off to leave a teenage vigilante with a violent past and a need for redemption trying to get enough sleep to pretend in the so-called “normal life.” One with a mask that doesn’t suit him as well as Robin’s.

And if his last thought before he finally drops off, one that could possibly be something to the tune of

–Tt. I would care for him better–

then he would be able to justify it in the morning with excuses of sleep-deprivation and effects from the consistent mental strain he gets every day just by dealing with his family.

(Of course he is prone to spontaneous nonsense. Has anyone ever met Grayson?)

And as he’s pressed, dressed, and already riding to school in the back of the Rolls, checking his phone for traces of Shauna Belzer’s movement after breaking in to a locker room at a bus station in Midtown, he absolutely, resolutely convinces himself that Drake is simply an exemplary civilian that has certainly earned his respect if nothing else. If circumstances has been somehow different, then Damian could safely admit Drake would look stunning in Nomac, Kevlar, and leather beside them, making plans, and fighting against the worst elements humanity can offer.

He can admit to himself that Drake is simply one of the family now, so of course he would be more concerned over their doctor’s health, safety, and sanity more than another random civilian.

He can breathe deep and bid Pennyworth good-bye, put on another mask as the son of Bruce Wayne, can wade through the crowd at Gotham Academy and draw every eye in the place.

He can multitask, school work with an acceptable amount of participation, count the hours until he could check the live feed again and make sure his vigilante brothers and their doctor were up and moving.

He can put on the mask later that night, the gold R gleaming on his chest, and fall feather light to crouch on the balcony of the Perch. He can jimmie the door without knocking and scare the hell out of Drake without really trying.

Before his own patrol, he can assure himself of the doctor’s well-being, saying he’s being a good vigilante, a good brother to Todd and Grayson. He can say the coffee he makes and the sandwich he painstakingly puts together are just making certain their resident physician is in peak health to deal with them when he is useful.

He can be satisfied when he leaves because at least one of them lectured the doctor with a wagging finger and utter sincerity.

“Stop making it hard to protect you. Honestly, Drake. You cannot associate with those we are trying to fight!”

“I’ll try, Dami, but we’ve had this conversation.”

He can say these things in no way prove he finds the doctor ... enticing or alluring in any way whatsoever.

He can justify it in all ways, from all angles possible, but after the day’s (and night’s) work is done, and he’s riding the edge of sleep yet again, the thought comes back to haunt him just enough to be satisfied enough–

–to sleep.

#winter answers #dr!tim #damian wayne #unrequited feelings #tim drake #ficlets #civilian!Tim #the doctor has hobbies #apparently so does Robin #my writing

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odaatlover · 5 years ago

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Anxiety is a bitch

The first time I ever had a panic attack was this past December (4 months ago) when I had cut myself on a vegetable peeler. It wasn’t really a bad cut, but it wouldn’t stop bleeding for about 10 minutes and all of a sudden I started to think, “Why hasn’t it stopped bleeding? What if it doesn’t stop bleeding? Is something wrong with me?” And suddenly, my heart starts racing, I start to feel sick to my stomach, I feel dizzy, my ears are flooded with the sound of static, and my hands are starting to go numb. My wife told me to lay down and gave me some honey because she said my blood sugar was probably low. And when I ate it, I started to feel much better. I assumed it was just that, low blood sugar from my finger bleeding.

That experience triggered something, because ever since then whenever I randomly start to worry about something, I get this same feeling. And I never had before from worrying. I feel sick to my stomach, start to feel dizzy...and before it gets to the other symptoms, I’m able to calm myself down and tell myself it’s all in my head. This happens to me a few times a week. It still never occurred to me that these were the beginnings of panic attacks, because I always thought panic attacks were just hyperventilating, and I’ve never experienced that.

A few weeks ago I cut myself again chopping onions, not too bad, but the same thing happens. It’s been 10 minutes, still bleeding, I start to worry and all the symptoms start. This time though, I can’t get myself out of it, no matter how much sugar I eat. I’m lying on the couch, my entire body is slowly going numb and tingly all over, and I feel like I’m about to pass out -- which makes me even more worried. My wife calls the paramedics to come check me out because I’m thinking it’s because of the cut; something physical. And just as I start to feel the last part of my body going numb, my wife says, “There here!” And immediately it all stops. They hadn’t even come inside yet. And I was feeling absolutely fine, because I felt safe. That was when I knew it was something mental. I looked it up, and realized that these were all symptoms of a panic attack.

Last night, my wife made me a cute little cold coffee that she was excited to make for me at 10pm. This was a really bad idea, because I never drink caffeine, nor do I consume a lot of sugar. And this had a good amount of both of those things in it. I was wide awake well past midnight on my phone just laying in bed, and my heart started pounding in my ears because I was hyped up on this stuff. I brushed it off, knowing that it was the caffeine, and was able to ignore it for a couple of hours. Then, at 2am, one simple thought crosses my mind. What if it’s not the caffeine and something is actually wrong? BOOM. All of the symptoms start. Heart begins to race, stomach drops, the sound of static builds, hands and face are starting to get tingly, and I’m very dizzy. I get up to get some water to help calm me down, but as I’m walking back to bed I’m stumbling because I’m so dizzy. My wife asks me what’s wrong, and I tell her I’m having a panic attack and she helps calm me down. I’m aware that it’s all in my head, and yet the fact that I’m panicking is making me panic even more.

I’m eventually able to calm myself down, at which point my mind says, “What if it happens again?” And I start to get the beginning stages of panicking once again, but am quickly able to calm myself down. This cycle continues in a loop, nonstop, until around 5am (3 hours later). At which point, I have another full on panic attack. I’m able to calm myself down again by focusing on my breathing. I try to fall asleep by listening to a calming hypnosis video on youtube, but every time I start to drift off to sleep I’m suddenly awoken by a feeling of slight panic. What if I fall asleep and don’t wake up? What if something is actually wrong? What if my heart beats so fast that it actually causes some sort of heart failure? I continue with this pattern of starting to fall asleep and suddenly waking in a bit of a panic until around 8am. At which point, my wife has gone to work. And I haven’t slept all night.

I went to my sister’s house so that I wasn’t alone in case I had another panic attack -- don’t worry, they live close by and none of us have been out anywhere so we stay within our little circle -- and the entire day I felt so tired and slightly dizzy from exhaustion. My stomach, esophagus, and throat feel inflamed from the amount of stress they’ve been under all night from tensing up. And I still feel so sick and I’m afraid of having another panic attack again. I know nothing truly bad would happen if I did, but I just hate feeling like that. It’s terrifying feeling like your body is shutting down. I need to sleep, but I’m afraid to sleep. When I lay down is when I start to feel those symptoms. Needless to say, my mind and body has been through a lot over the past 18 hours. And even as I’m typing this, I’m getting little bursts of dizziness just out of anxiety, but I know there’s nothing wrong with me so I’m able to ignore it and push past it. It honestly just feels like a way of life at this point. I know I will start to feel normal again soon, but right now I just feel constantly on edge.

Anxiety is no joke. Panic attacks are no joke. It’s scary, and it takes a toll on you both mentally and physically. I wouldn’t wish this experience on my worst enemy. And if you’re someone who experiences anxiety or panic attacks of any kind, you’re not alone! You’re not alone.

#anxiety #panic attacks #Oh and don’t worry about me #I’ve scheduled a video chat appointment with my therapist next Thursday to figure out what is causing this and how to cope with it

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swlbarnes · 6 years ago

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Self Care Isn’t Selfish - Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: Sam refuses to take care of himself, so you finally decide to intervene.

Pairing: (established) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word count: ~2.2k

Warnings: classic winchester refusal of self care and rest, fluff fluff and more fluff

A/N: basically I like to mess around on ambient mixer and I ended up making an atmosphere for getting some rest with sammy. this is the quick lil result of me listening to that while writing! For best results with this oneshot, pls CLICK HERE to listen to the atmosphere while you read! Headphones recommended :) ALSO i should say! thank you so much for 100 followers!! thank u thank u thank u!

All it took was one more yawn from Sam for you to make up your mind. Just one.

For days now you had watched the younger Winchester continue to push himself past his limits. The hunts had been nonstop for weeks now as Sam repeatedly threw himself into his work with no mind for his own well being. Only within the past two weeks had you noticed the biggest changes, specifically in his sleeping and dietary habits. Your shared bed with the man had become too large as of late, too cold in his absence night after night. Each time you would wake up and find the other side of the bed empty, you would pad out the door and down to the library, where you would always find Sam with his face buried in another old lore book. Your pleas for him to come back to bed with you were always brushed off as if they were nothing, him constantly insisting that he was okay and he was getting enough rest.

“I’m fine,” he would insist, the slur of his words a clear indication of his drowsy state. “I’m a hunter, I’ve worked on less sleep than this before.”

He was lying. You knew it, Dean knew it, Castiel knew it, and surely Sam himself knew it. What was causing him to act this way you couldn’t say for sure, but whatever it was, you wanted to stop it in its tracks. His newfound habits were taking quite the toll on him both physically and mentally. Yourself and the Winchester brothers weren’t exactly known for having the most well rested faces in the world, but the dark circles taking residence under Sam’s eyes were worrying even to you. His body slumped far more than it usually did, and his boot clad feet could be heard dragging against the library floor all the way from the kitchen. His usually well kept hair lost its style days ago, instead now poking out every which way from atop his drooping head.

Sam’s finger trailed over the faded Latin text lazily. His eyes were hazy and unfocused, squinting and squeezing shut every few seconds as if to clear the film of exhaustion away. One hand rested against his forehead, arm crooked at the elbow and leaning on the table to hold his head up. You watched in frustration as his eyes drifted closed every few minutes before snapping back open with a start. You turned your attention to the older of the brothers to find that he, too, had a scowl forming on his lips at the sight. This was how you knew that it was surely getting bad; if Dean Winchester, the master of self care avoidance, was judging your self care habits, then you had a problem. Sam was to that point.

Your boyfriend’s mouth opened wide in yet another yawn, and that was the final straw that had you standing up abruptly. The distinct screech of chair legs across the bunker floor caused Sam’s head to snap upwards to look at you in confusion. You made your way over to the plaid flannel clad man in a few quick strides, stopping next to him to grab the book from his hands.

“Hey!” He cried out, his hands reaching for the tome but the rest of his body making no move to pursue it further. “I need that, I was researching!”

You gave him a simple shake of your head as you snatched his notes from the table top as well, stuffing them into the book to mark his page before closing it and placing it on the table behind you, just out of his reach. You crossed your arms across your chest and leaned against the dark wooden surface. “No way I’m giving you that book back, Sam.”

“Well, why not? We have work to do. I can’t exactly work without that book,” he argued, arms crossing over his chest as well to mirror your stance. Your eyes rolled up at the ceiling in frustration.

“Yeah, about that. No, you’re not gonna work on this. We,” you paused to motion your hand between yourself and Dean, “are going to finish this up. Cas too. You, however, are going to get some rest. I’m sick and tired of watching you push yourself like this when you’re clearly suffering. We can handle this, I promise. Just focus on taking care of yourself.”

Your insistent tone did little to coerce the stubborn man into taking a well deserved break. His eyes flickered back and forth between you and his brother. Dean returned his gaze with a look that absolutely screamed for Sam to agree to the arrangement and get some sleep, but this, too, didn’t get through to him.

Sam shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t leave you three to work on this all alone. You guys are tired too. I’ve been doing this my whole life, I can handle it,” he insisted. He reached behind you to grab his book back, only for you to press your hand down over the cover and slide the volume across the table to Dean, who anticipated this action and caught it without glancing away from his notes. You turned back to Sam with a triumphant smile. The expression he met you with was far from impressed.

“Seriously?” He deadpanned. You quirked a brow.

“Seriously.”

Silence settled over the library for a moment as the pair of you continued to stare each other down. No one dared to break the moment until the familiar flutter of wings interrupted your stare off. “Dean, I was wondering if you- oh,” Castiel’s deep timbre paused momentarily as his eyes settled on you and Sam, or, more particularly, Sam’s hunched over form. The seraph furrowed his brows at the sight. “Why is Sam still here?” His question was abrupt and to the point, as things usually were when coming from the angel’s mouth, but it was valid nonetheless.

Sam threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Seriously?” He clamored, brows knit together by an invisible thread of frustration. “Why does everyone keep insisting I shouldn’t be working? I am perfectly fine!” His exclamation was punctuated quite indicatively by the all encompassing yawn his mouth formed directly after he finished speaking. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes from the reflex, and once he cleared his vision, he was met with three sets of unimpressed eyes. A scowl formed on his face, and he found himself shaking his head dismissively once again. “Whatever. That was nothing. You just got it in my head, that’s all!”

You scoffed and brought a hand down on his shoulder to gain his attention. “Babe, come on. You’re running on fumes, and you have been for a while now. We can all see that you need a break, and there’s never been a better time than now. This research isn’t time sensitive, and either way, it’s really not that much. I know that if the roles were reversed, and I was in your situation, that you wouldn’t let up until I finally gave in and took care of myself. Let me do that for you, okay?” Your hand trailed down his arm so you could give his bicep a reassuring squeeze.

The hunter cast his eyes downwards momentarily, clearly lost in thought. Castiel’s shuffling around the room paused once he noticed the change in the atmosphere, much to your relief. Sam’s lips parted and shut repeatedly before he finally worked up the courage to speak. “Could you,” he began, pausing to cough when he realized how strained and broken his voice sounded. “Could you lay with me?” Concerned hazel eyes flickered up to peer at you through tousled strands of brown hair. His fear of impending rejection shone clear as day on his face like a bright neon sign, calling attention to the tug of his brows and the slight pout of his bottom lip like a blaring siren.

You felt your features visibly soften at the sight of the man you loved so much in such a vulnerable state. With a small, comforting smile, you nodded your head in agreement before tugging carefully at the sleeve of his flannel shirt in an effort to coax him out of his chair. Slowly but surely, he raised to his feet and allowed you to lead him over to the old leather couch in the corner of the library. You knew he wouldn’t let you take him all the way to his room in fear of missing any big breakthroughs in the day’s research, so for the time being, the surprisingly comfortable cushions the Men of Letters left behind would have to do.

You urged him to settle down however he pleased, which in the end seemed to be with his head propped against the arm of the couch and his body lounging across its length. One of his feet sat flat on the floor while the other splayed out over the other chair arm, dangling precariously in the air. Once he got everything to his liking, he turned his exhaustion laden eyes to you to peer at you through heavy lids. He reached his arms out and made grabby hands in your direction like a child would to his favorite stuffed animal, causing you to chuckle. The sound put a lopsided grin on the hunter’s face.

“C’mere,” he insisted, keeping his arms outstretched towards you.

You shook your head with a smile. “I don’t think we’re both gonna fit on that couch, big guy.”

“Trust me,” he coaxed. “I got it, just c’mere.”

You took a tentative step towards him and placed yourself within arm’s reach of the man. In an instant, he pulled you towards him at the waist and maneuvered your body so that you were laying on top of him. Your head rested comfortably on his chest just over his heart. One of his arms wrapped around your waist while his other hand buried itself in the hair at the back of your head, serving to hold your head in place as well as trace lazy circles on your scalp. Your legs tangled together and the smell of Sam’s favorite body wash and shampoo combination curled around you like a warm blanket.

His chest rose and fell with each steady breath he took, the motions serving to lull you into a restful state alongside the ever comforting beating of his heart beneath your ear. You were vaguely aware of Dean’s continued research endeavors in the background. The clack of keyboard keys and the turning of old book pages registered only as well as the soft flutter of wings that arose every so often as Castiel popped in and out of the library in search of the information he required. In all truth, none of that really mattered to you when you were curled up in Sam’s arms.

Slowly but surely, Sam’s movements began to slow. The circles his finger tips traced over your skin became sloppier and sloppier until they finally ceased altogether. His breathing evened out and his whole form relaxed with well needed rest. Only once you were sure he was asleep did you risk a glance up at him.

His grip on your waist tightened with your movements, only causing you to smile and slow your motions enough that his brain wouldn’t register them. You peeked up at his sleeping face, a lazy grin on your features at the sight. He looked so much… younger like this. His skin was smooth and free of any worry lines from the day to day stressors. His eyelashes shadowed over his cheekbones, leading your eyes down to his relaxed jawline and the small pout tugging at his slightly parted lips. His hair was as wild as ever, but you knew that as soon as he woke up he would run a single hand through it and manage to look utterly flawless, which you always found infuriating. Then he would look at you with a sleepy, lopsided smile and rub at one eye with the heel of his hand, greeting you with his gravelly morning voice, and you would realize you couldn’t stay mad at him for very long. It was an endless cycle, and you were prepared to go through it every single day if he would allow you.

You turned your eyes to Dean, who sat in the same place he had been all day, laptop opened in front of him, face illuminated by the blue tinted glow. Only now, the corners of his lips were tugging upwards in a ghost of a smile. His own emerald gaze flickered upwards to peer at you over the top of his screen, green hued eyes softening as a genuine smile broke out on his face. A small part of you felt relieved that he wasn’t annoyed with the way you had left him to research alone, but the rest of you was simply in awe of the sight of Dean Winchester’s genuine happiness.

“Thank you,” he mouthed to you in earnest.

“Always,” came your reply.

And with that, you rested your head on Sam’s chest once again, and allowed his heartbeat to lull you into a peaceful sleep.

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misstinfoilhat · 5 years ago

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The Boy in the Belfry, part 13. A Bungou Stray Dogs fic

All is dark. All is calm. All is good.

The only thing he can hear is the muffled sound of his fellow agents getting to work around him, and the only thing he can feel is leather gloves carefully caressing the side of his face and occasionally swiping away the unmanageable bangs from his face.

All is okay. All is over. All is well.

His father is dead. He knows. Not even a termite like his old man, can withstand what had to be more than ten stabs to the head, and at least ten more to the chest. To be absolutely sure, he genuinely hopes that Mori will cut his head off and feed it to the pigs. Or better yet, his heart. You can never be too sure considering all the pestered animals that can keep on living without their heads. He'll let Mori do whatever he wants to the body, as long as it's not burried beneath the same ground as his mother and sisters. He'll let Mori feed his sickest fantasies, just to make sure that the motherfucker burns in hell.

All is still. All is numb. All is dead.

-xXx-

Atsushi was stunned. With trembling knees, he was able to take one step before his legs buckled under his weight, but Yosano was quick to react out and caught him before he could hit the ground. She'd been keeping an eye out for all of their younger agents during the bloodied act, knowing fully that the sight before them would be overwhelming to anyone- and especially someone as inexperienced and impressionable as Atsushi.

Even if they all knew about Dazai's past in the Port Mafia by now, Yosano (and to an extent, Kyouka) was probably the only ones who were capable of even nearly understanding what kind of measures Dazai has had to go through, to survive a lifestyle in the mafia that he did not choose for himself, but had been molded and broken into by callous hands.

The horrors he must have seen, as well as executed himself... from her own experience, she knew it was horrendous. And him, being a former executive, she could only begin to imagine how much worse he'd been through.

But he had been exposed to such cruel acts himself.

Until now, she was the only one in the agency who had seen the hideousness that had been done to his body underneath the bandages. It was nothing but evidence of a lifetime of torture.

But now, they had all seen it. What the mellow tempered jokester was hiding underneath the bandages.

Yosano got awakened from her thoughts as Atsushi ripped himself from her grip and ran out of the church. With that, she was reminded of the chaos around her. Her heart pulled her in one direction, wanting to make sure that Atsushi was okay, but a persistent Kunikda yelled for her assistance in the other.

“Kyouka,” she started to say but needed not to say more. The petite girl ran after her friend- probably a little relieved to get away from the situation. Yosano made a mental note to talk to her later. This whole event probably brought back some very unpleasant memories for her too.

Yosano hurried and ran to Dazai's aid.

-xXx-

“Atsushi-san?” Kyouka asked as softly as her already pleasant voice could muster, as she saw the boy huddled up and cradling himself right outside the door of the church. “Are you alright?”

Atsushi didn't answer, only grabbed his legs tighter and faintly shivered from the rain and sour wind.

“You should come back inside... I don't want you to get sick. They have covered the... body,” she added.

“It's not that...” Atsushi finally answered quietly. “I can take a dead body, Kyouka. I've seen blood and gore before. It's just...” he took a deep breath trying to make his voice sturdy. “I can't see Dazai like that. He's... he's supposed to be unbreakable, you know?”

Kyouka lowered her head. She knew, but she also knew. Knew a few things about the Port Mafia that Atsushi didn't. Things about Mori that anyone outside of the mafia would never know.

“You know,” he chuckled, almost humorously but couldn’t quite muster it, “...once, he carried me all the way back to the infirmary after a really bad fight downtown. He had several broken ribs, a concussion, and a pretty bad knee injury. Yosano and Kunikida literally had to tackle him to the ground and tranquilize him to treat his injuries,” Atsushi recalled bitterly.

“Seeing him in such a vulnerable state right now... it's breaking my heart. I just can't take it. He's the closest thing to... maybe not a father, but at least a big brother, or a cool uncle, that I've ever had.”

Atsushi bit his lip and added, “Also, seeing how he just used the remains of his energy to execute such a brutal killing... looking completely and utterly... unfeeling and unfazed by it, sends shivers through my whole body. I'm not sure I know that person...”

A touch on the arm from Kyouka interrupted him. She looked keenly into his eyes with her piercing light blue ones.

“Please, Atsushi. There's a lot you don't understand about Dazai-san. There's a lot none of us will ever understand. But, you saw the marks on his body and you heard what the preacher said. I'm not sure if any of us would have acted any other way if we were in his position.”

Atsushi knew she was probably right. He knew if he was in the same desperate state of mind as Dazai had been in then and there, and been given the opportunity to fight back- he probably would too. It wasn’t like he hadn’t fought in blind rage before himself.

Even so, he would need some time to process what he had just witnessed.

-xXx-

Kunikida hardly ever acted spontaneously. Obviously, even he couldn't foresee every possible turn of events, but it wasn't for the lack of trying.

This entire day had been agonizingly out of his control, and as Dazai fell unconscious after the confrontation and savage killing of the preacher (he wouldn't even give the man the acknowledgment of calling him Dazai's father), he decided to give in to the moment, letting go of his analytic thought process and acting purely from instinct and heart.

And his heart said to screw everything and get Dazai out of there alive.

Chuuya had already made it to Dazai. Kunikida could see him comforting and sheltering him, but wanted, all the same, to kick the vertically challenged Chucky look-a-like's face in for misusing his and his partner's trust.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, reaching the two, hitting Chuuya's stupid hat off, just for his own satisfaction.

The redhead didn't even flinch and was more concerned with making Dazai comfortable despite his injuries.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. Kunikida didn't know if he was referring to Dazai, him or both of them. Probably the ladder. “I didn't know that Mori would let it go this far, but I should have. He always takes it too far.”

Kunikida looked for the Port Mafia boss, but he had already disappeared.

'That fucking coward.'

He snapped his fingers and got the attention of Tanizaki and Kenji, as he noticed Yosano being held up with Atsushi.

“Please, if you're up to it, would you mind... trying to find something to cover the body with?” he asked quietly. Even with somewhat pallor looks, they both complied, probably relieved to get a task to distract themselves, even if it was a messy one.

He turned back to Chuuya and Dazai, only to realize that Dazai's face started to look strained, fusing into a tight grimace as his body gradually started trembling worse and worse.

“He's having a seizure!” Kunikida exclaimed and pushed a frozen Chuuya away, quickly turning Dazai on his side to clear his airways. “Yosano!”

-xXx-

The ambulance drove off with Dazai, accompanied by Yosano. Chuuya had redeemed himself a little by helping them to get rid of the body before anyone else would see it, as well as cleaning up the mess that had been made. They put their trust in Yosano to come up with some kind of story to explain Dazai's (somewhat embarrassingly for both the ADA and the hospital) third disappearance (sporting an external fixing device on his leg and a broken back) from the hospital and the state they sent him back in.

“You have some explaining to do,” Kunikida stated sternly to Chuuya, as they watched the ambulance drive off.

“I don't think I'm the right person to do that,” he said simply, but couldn't hide the clear discomfort of being interrogated.

“Your namby-pamby boss vanished out of the thin air. He didn't even stick around to make sure that Dazai was okay,” Kunikida retorted sourly.

Chuuya smirked slightly, crossing his arms and started to walk towards his bike. “I don't mean Mori, Kunikida-kun.”

At first, Kunikida was confused by the statement. He watched the back of the mafioso as he walked calmly away.

Then it dawned upon him.

Could Dazai already have known what was going to happen?

…

Of course, he could.

-xXx-

Dazai looked peaceful in spite of Atsushi's inability not to imagine the scars that lay hidden underneath his bandages. The third operation in just a little less than a month had taken its toll on his mentor, and understandably so.

Atsushi didn't know if he would ever be able to look upon the man who, despite his many flaws, he had regarded as his hero, the same way ever again. He looked the same, but somehow, he felt different.

Even so, he hadn't moved from his bedside since he'd been allowed into his room in the ICU. The others from the agency had returned to the dorms to get some much-needed rest, but something inside of Atsushi's stomach had made him unable to leave Dazai there by himself.

Dazai twitched slightly in the bed. Atsushi automatically stood up, leaning towards the railings, watching intently as his mentor started to wake up.

Bewildered hands moved towards his face, trying to remove the intruding nasal cannula before his eyes had even opened.

“Uh, no, stop it. I think you need that,” Atsushi said nervously, grabbing Dazai's hands and placed them gently back by his side.

“So annoying,” Dazai sighed hoarsely, before falling back to sleep.

Atsushi smiled.

Maybe Dazai was the same after all.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #Dazai Osamu #atsushi nakajima #Nakahara Chuuya #mori ougai #doppo kunikida #yosano akiko #kyouka #fanfiction #fanfic #bsd #Boy in the belfry

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cashtonsangel · 6 years ago

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Missin’ You

Summary: With Calum being on tour, you had missed him so much.

Requested by @mysticalhood i hope you enjoy :)

Word Count: 4000+

Warnings: mention of a mental breakdown and some cursing

A/N: wow this is the longest thing i have ever written aside from some of my academic papers. im sorry this took so long but i got so distracted while writing this so :) i think i went a little overboard and got distracted writing the backstory so it’s kinda long, but i really hope that you enjoy!!

Calum had been on tour for the past month and a half, and it had taken such a toll on your daily life. The only contact that you had with him was through a small screen, but it was hard to find time between your schedule and his tour schedule, and that’s not even mentioning time zones. Even when the two of you finally found time in your busy schedules to call each other, it still wasn’t enough.

You had been in such a slump after about a month of his absence, finding little to no motivation to complete simple tasks since everything reminded you of your boyfriend. Every time you went to go walk Duke, you missed Calum’s voice gushing about all the other dogs that he passed by. Every time certain songs came on shuffle, you missed Calum’s singing and dancing. Every time you were in the kitchen making dinner, you missed Calum being next to you helping you cook. Every time you would sit and watch something on TV or Netflix, you missed Calum’s teasing and arguing. Every time you went to bed, you missed Calum’s cuddles and warmth. In short, you missed your boyfriend more than anything, but he was across the world pursuing his lifelong dream of spreading music, while you were stuck at home with your mundane life.

Today your loneliness struck particularly hard.

It was a rough day for you. This morning you woke up feeling off and just wanted to stay in bed and relish in the emptiness that had manifested throughout your body. But you knew you couldn’t since you had work and a ton of errands to complete in the afternoon that you couldn’t afford to miss. Throughout the day, your friends had noticed your foul mood and had been walking on eggshells the whole day which had pissed you off even more. As the day progressed, your mood only worsened. And by the time you had gotten back to your house, you were just one push away from a complete breakdown.

At this point, your body was on autopilot, going through the motions of life without much thought. Your legs were working on their own accord and had brought you to your closet where you changed out of your day clothes and into shorts and one of Calum’s old t-shirts. Calum’s clothes brought some semblance of comfort, and you needed as much comfort as you could possibly get tonight.

Sensing your obvious distress as soon as you walked through the door, Duke had been quietly following you, keeping an eye on you just in case you needed help. When he saw you getting into bed, Duke begged to be let up with you. Picking him up and placing him beside you, he found a comfortable spot before laying down, making sure that he was still within your arms reach.

Blankly staring at the ceiling, you felt tears building up in your eyes. It was days like these that made you feel so alone. Even though it was filled with everything you wanted, your place felt so empty and hollow with just you and Duke occupying it. There was a piece of your family missing, and he was thousands of miles away from you.

You felt the first tear escape as your thoughts continued to dwell on the fact that Calum was so far away when you needed him the most. You missed your boyfriend so much and you wished that he was he to tell you that it was all going to be okay. You wished that he was here to help you take the pain away.

Tears were streaming down your face, and you couldn’t stop them. Burying your face in your pillow to muffle your uncontrollable sobs, you cried out all of your emotions and frustrations.

Once the tears slowly eased up, all of the pent up emotions that you had held in for so long finally left your body as numbness to its place. Duke had curled up against your body at this point, showing you some much needed love.

Reaching out for your phone, you texted Calum to see if he was able to answer your facetime call. You desperately needed to see his face and hear his voice tonight before you were able to go to sleep.

A couple of minutes after you sent the text, your phone lit up with Calum’s contact picture. Immediately accepting his call, Calum’s face filled up the dark screen.

The way the camera was angled, Calum immediately noticed the way your eyes were glassy, red, and puffy and the constant sniffles that escaped your mouth. Immediately concerned, a frown appeared on his face.

“What’s wrong hun? Is everything okay? Are you safe?” Worry laced his voice as he slowly took in your emotional state.

“Bad day,” was all you needed to say.

“Aww, hun, I’m sorry. I wish I was there at home with you right now to help you take away the pain. You know it breaks my heart to see you cry.”

“ s’okay.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you took each other in. Calum looked good. Although there were slight bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, he looked happy to be on tour with some of his best friends and playing to so many crowds.

“Cal?”

“Yeah, hun?”

“Can you talk about something? Please. I-” your voice cracked, “I just need to hear your voice.”

Calum began update you on his life since the last the two of you were able to talk and talked about his plans for today. He retold some tour stories and about his adventures in the cities that he got to explore since they had the day off that day. He was excited to go to the pop-up store to meet some fans and play the show tonight since the crowd at this city was always so responsive and alive. You occasionally interrupted and gave your input, but other than that, it was mainly a one sided conversation.

He continued talking for about 20 minutes before Calum looked at the clock and cursed. He had to leave as soon as possible so he wouldn’t miss his call time.

“I love you, bubs, g’night,” your voice echoed in the empty bedroom as you said goodbye to Calum.

“I love you, hun. Sweet dreams,” blowing you one final kiss before your screen went dark, no longer displaying Calum’s face but rather your recently called list.

Your conversation with your boyfriend had calmed you down considerably, and you were thankful that you caught him when he was free, even though it was somewhat of a short conversation.

Placing your phone on the bedside table, you shifted your body until you were comfortable before you fell into a dreamless sleep.

Ending the call, Calum sighed. It hurt him so much to know that you were across the world, crying your eyes out, and he could barely do anything about it.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself, being on tour for so long and away from you had impacted him more than he would like to admit. He missed your voice. He missed your hugs. He missed your smile. He missed everything.

Although touring and press took up the majority of his time, You were almost always on his mind. He was always thinking about you wanting to know what you were up to and how your day has been.

The rest of the boys had seen how Calum wasn’t really acting like himself lately due to your long absence. They tried to help him get his mind off of it by taking him out, or making sure that he was never alone with his thoughts, but it wasn’t enough. Calum really appreciated the gesture, but nothing would ever get rid of the void in his heart.

He knew that it was hard for you to give up a part of your life to travel with them around the world. That it wasn’t fair for him to ask for you to put your life on hold so that you could watch him fulfill his dreams. No, that wouldn’t be fair to you.

But all he wanted was to have you at his side. He wanted to remove the thousands of miles of land and ocean that was between the two of you. He wanted you to come and see the world with him.

Shaking his head, he tried to get rid of the selfish thoughts as he left his hotel room to get to the location of the first interview of the day.

As he drove through the city, his mind couldn’t help but wander. He knew that you absolutely love traveling and exploring new places and he could practically hear your voice as he drove by all of the gorgeous buildings and landscapes.

He could imagine it right now. Whenever the band had a ounce of downtime, he could imagine the both of you walking up and down the streets exploring the local cafes and boutiques to get a feel of what the city was actually about. You would skip all of the overhyped tourist attractions and head straight for the local business since that’s where so much of the culture was located.

Calum was pulled out of his daydream by his driver announcing that they had arrived at the location.

Walking into the building, he was guided to the filming space where Michael, Luke, and Ashton were situated.

“Cutting it close, huh Calum,” Ashton teased his bandmate and best friend.

“Shut up,” Calum rolled his eyes, slightly flustered due to being late.

“What made you so late anyways? You’re normally pretty good at showing up on time.” There wasn’t any hostility to Ashton’s tone, just curiosity.

“Y/N had a rough night at home and called me. We were talking, and I completely lost track of time.”

All of the boys nodded at Calum’s answer. They all knew that being away from each other was taking a toll on you and Calum’s mental state, and couldn’t blame him for taking time to make sure that you were in the right headspace.

As Calum was getting settled, a young woman walked into the room and introduced herself and gave a quick rundown as to what was going to happen before quickly starting.

This process repeated a couple of times with a variety of different people and production crews. By the end of the multiple interview sessions, a few hours had already passed.

Throughout the interviews Calum stayed quiet. Although most of the time, he was pretty reserved, Michael, Ashton, and Luke could tell that Calum’s silence was different than normal. They all knew that his mind was thousands of miles away. They tried to alleviate some of the burden of answering questions for Calum by helping steer some of the questions away from Calum, only letting him to respond when it was completely necessary.

When the last interview was finally over and production had left the room, Calum rested his head in his hands and let out a deep sigh.

He could barely concentrate on the questions and comments that they were asking. He tried so hard to try and get you out of his head for just a couple of hours for the interviews, it was easier said than done.

The image of your red and swollen eyes and your tear stained face was burned into his memories. It broke his heart over and over again every time he closed his eyes.

A few tears of frustration slipped out of the corners of his eyes. All Calum had wanted was to make you happy, but he could barely do that thousands of miles away.

Sensing his best friend’s distress, Michael walked over to where Calum was sitting and tried to comfort his crying bandmate.

“It’ll be alright, man. Y/N is strong and so are you. Only a couple more weeks until you get to see her again.” Michael rubbed circles on Calum’s back.

“I know. It’s just hard.”

“You’ve got this, mate. You can do it,” Michael leaned back against the sofa, and Calum followed in suit and rested his head against Michael’s shoulder.

The two of them stayed like this for a while. Calum closed his eyes and thought of you. Calum associated you with happiness. Almost all of his memories of you were filled with joy and love, and he wanted to savor those moments right now to cheer himself up. In contrast, Michael was on his phone, a concentrated look on his face as he rapidly types on his phone, but careful not to disturb Calum.

Both lost in thought, Calum and Michael almost missed their cars since they didn’t hear Luke calling for them to leave the go to the venue.

Michael stood up and headed towards the exit.

helped Calum up and the duo headed to the cars out front, where Ashton and Luke were already seated in the cars.

“Feeling better, Cal?”

Calum only nodded and the both of them walked outside and into their respective cars.

You leg bounced out of nervousness as you stared at the map in front of you. Only an hour more on the plane before you land and finally see the man of your dreams after so long.

It had been such a last minute decision to take a break from work and fly out to where the boys were touring, but Michael had somehow managed to convince you to fly out to spend time with Calum.

He had texted you in the middle of the night 2 days ago telling you how much Calum had missed you and how much of a toll it had took on his mentality. Michael and the rest of the boys had wanted you to come out and bring back the Calum that was always smiling and cheery, the Calum that was always there to liven up the room.

You were reluctant at first, who wouldn’t have been. It wasn’t like you to drop and leave everything behind for a relationship. Not to mention how last minute and unplanned to trip would be but Michael, with the help of the other boys, had managed to change your mind.

You loved Calum with your whole heart. He was your everything. And when you heard that he wasn’t feeling like himself, your heart broke. He deserves all the happiness in the entire universe, and you would do almost anything to make sure that there was always a smile on his face. Michael, Ashton, and Luke were the final push that you needed to fly all the way out to see Calum.

“What are you nervous about sweetheart?” The lady that had sat next to you had woken up from her sleep and questioned your bouncing leg.

“I’m going to see my boyfriend.” You flashed her a small smile.

“Aw that’s so cute! But if you are going to see your boyfriend, why do you feel so nervous?”

“I don’t really know,” you sighed, “this isn’t like me to just drop everything and fly somewhere because I miss someone. I’m traveling across the world for him, and to me that’s insane.” As you spoke, a smile started to form on your face.

“If you are flying all the way out here on your own, you must really love him.”

“He is the love of my life, he makes me feel like the only person on the world when I am with him.” As you spoke, you couldn’t help but look at your phone’s lockscreen, which was one of the candid pictures that you took of him while he was laughing.

“Well, if he makes you feel like the luckiest person alive, then hold onto him, okay? He seems like a special one from the way you are speaking of him and the way your face lights up whenever you talk about him. Don’t let him slip away.”

“I won’t.”

The rest of your flight was spent talking to the woman seated next to you about various topics. And before you knew it, the plane was about to land.

Getting up from your seats, the both of you said your goodbyes and parted ways.

You followed the signs around the airport that led you to the luggage carousel. Quickly finding your luggage, you glanced around the room, looking for the person who was sent to pick you up. Michael had texted you when you landed at the airport, saying that they had sent a driver to come and get you since the boys were busy with an interview by the time that your flight landed.

The driver led you out to his car, packed your bags in the trunk, and then drove you to the hotel that the boys were going to stay at later that night. During the short trip to the hotel, you eyes were glued outside of the car window. All the buildings and architecture that you passed were so stunning and the environment was completely different than back home. You were trying to absorb every single detail about the city as you drove through the city.

As the car slowed down and pulled up to the curb of your hotel, everything started to feel a little bit more real for you. You were going to finally see you boyfriend after so long, and you couldn’t be more ecstatic.

Hopping out of the car with a bounce to your step, you thanked the driver and headed inside the hotel to check in and get settled before the show tonight. Taking a quick shower and nap to try and get rid of some of your jetlag, you prepared yourself for the long night ahead of you.

Your phone chimed after about 3 hours of being in your hotel room, indicating that you had a text message. Grabbing your phone, you saw that it was Ashton texting you what your room number was so that he could come and take you to the venue.

Texting him your floor and room number, you did some last minute touch ups before you heard Ashton at the door.

“Hey, Y/N.” The drummer pulled you into a quick hug before asking if you were ready to leave.

“Yeah, let’s go!” The enthusiasm in voice was not missed by Ashton.

“Ready to see lover boy, huh?”

“Shut up, Irwin. Let’s go.”

Shaking his head, he led you downstairs to the car, where the two of you chatted about the boys recent adventures and just catching you up on some of the stuff that you missed.

There was a brief pause in the conversation before Ashton spoke again.

“You know he really misses you. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

All you could do is smile at his words.

“Just don’t break his heart, okay? He’s my best friend, and I don’t want want to see him hurt. He really loves you.”

Ashton’s words warmed your heart. You were glad that Calum had such supportive and loving friends and family like Ashton.

“I don’t think I ever could, Ash. He means the world to me.”

Ashton flashed you one of his million dollar smiles before walking out of the car and towards the venue. You followed right behind him.

“Good because as much as I love you, Calum is my soulmate, and if you hurt him, I’d have to kill you.”

Laughing at his words, you nodded. “Deal.”

“Okay, I just texted Cal, they are all in the main green room. Let’s go.”

The both of you navigated the many halls and corridors until you could hear Luke’s laugh.

“I’ll go in first, don’t want to outshine you, Y/N,” Ashton teased.

“Fuck off, Ash.” You rolled your eyes and let him enter the door first. You heard the other boys greet him and before going back to whatever they were doing.

Taking a deep breath, you walked through the threshold, your eyes immediately scouring throughout the room to find your boyfriend. He was laying on one of the couches scrolling through his phone.

Walking towards his figure, Calum’s eyes caught movement out of the corner of his eyes, causing him to look up from his phone.

When his eyes reached your face, Calum immediately shot up and ran to you, enveloping your body in one of infamous hugs. His hands were wrapped around waist and his head rested on your shoulder.

“Y/N? What the fuck? What the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck?” He repeated the question over and over again; his tone indicating his enthusiasm and confusion.

Slightly pulling away, you responded with a big grin, “Hey handsome.”

Not liking the space that you had just created, Calum immediately pulled you closer and placed a kiss on your forehead before dragging you to the couch so that the both of you could sit down.

“What are you doing here, hun?”

“Am I not allowed to visit my boyfriend while he is on tour?”

Calum gave you a look.

You rolled your eyes, “I really missed you, so I took a couple of days off to come a visit. Not to mention that the boys practically forced me to fly out because they knew that we’re both miserable without each other.”

You a couple of coughs and a clearing of a throat as you finished your sentence. Looking over to the other side of the room, you saw Luke, Ashton, and Michael with the biggest smirks on their face. They looked at you and Cal expectantly, waiting for some type of thank you.

Calum rolled his eyes at his bandmates’ antics and thanked them.

“No problem, making dreams is what we do!” Luke responded in the most obnoxious way possible.

“Want to go somewhere more private, hun? So we don’t have a crowd spying on us the entire time?” Calum sent a glare over to the boys as he said that last sentence.

Standing up, Calum led to you to a different room adjacent to the one you were just in. Quickly closing the door, he pushed you up against the wall and placed his forehead on top of yours.

“I’m so glad you’re finally here, hun. It’s one of the best days of my life,” he whispered while staring into your eyes.

“Me too.”

“I can’t wait for our off day tomorrow! We can go exploring the city and do a bunch of dumb and fun stuff. Like I heard there is this really cool local pub down the street from our hotel, and I was going to drag one of the boys with me, but now that you’re here, I can take you.” Calum was beaming at this point.

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Anything you want, bubs.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you both enjoyed finally being in each other’s presence. Seeing Cal in person for the first time in so long had rejuvenated your heart and soul, and you couldn’t be happier now that you were in his arms.

The two of you sat there for some time to just catch up and talk to each other face to face. The room with warmth and love as the two of you spoke.

“Y/N, I know I’ve already said this, but I’m so glad that you are actually here on tour with me, even if it’s only for a couple of days. I love you more than anything, and I would give you everything if I could.”

The sincerity behind his words made you tear up. You loved him more than anything and were willing to give up everything you had to be with this man. He made you feel like you were on top of the world whenever you were with him. He made you feel like the only other person in the world in a room full of people whenever he looked at you. He made you feel like nothing else mattered when you were by his side. There weren’t enough words in the world to convey how much love you had for this man. He was your sunshine, and you couldn’t be any happier.

wanna be tagged??

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buhfoonery · 5 years ago

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Fictober19: Day 3; Now? Now you listen?

A Divine Visit

Trigger warning: Mention of Abuse

What an excruciating day at the Office. The Market kept on its course and the firm, to put it bluntly, was in a downward spiral. Keep in mind the business wasn't ever going great per se. Little income here and there with Stagnation being the status quo most of the time. Recently however it's like watching a plane take a nosedive toward certain doom in some reef off the coast. After the Nijimura family's matriarch passed on from a mysterious cause nothing seemed to go right.

Disgruntled the Patriarch of the family fiddled around with the bundle of keys he kept on himself. Carefully looking at each one to check if it had the shape of the Key that Unlocked his Middle class home in the quiet town of Morioh. The house itself looked extraordinarily impressive in Comparison to the humble abodes littered throughout this part of town. Time and time again he chuckled, it was a brilliant idea to buy land in this district then have a Victorian looking villa built upon it. The Nijimuras surely did look like the biggest in town. Safe to say he needed everything he could chuckle at right now.

Really he was sort of lucky the Yoshikages still had a monopoly up there in the hills, that old man might have just saved the Father's self-confidence.

He'd prefer not to think about returning to his two kids, Keicho and Okuyasu. He's not feeling too swell right about now, learning from past situations…he just hoped that neither would try to talk to him. He's gotten sick of relieving his Anger upon those two. They're good kids, he shouldn't…it's just so difficult to hold back if they constantly ask about how he is. Can't they see he isn't in the best of Positions right now having to work for his two kids who do nothing at home?

With a satisfying click the door Unlocked, swinging open by itself to reveal the entrance hall in darkness, a purplish haze crawling across the floor. Carefully the man closed the door behind him looking puzzled at the state of his pride and joy. Those Rascals couldn't have done such a thing could they? Upon further investigation he realized that the smoke rolled down from the staircase, this doesn't make sense at all to him.

"Keicho? Okuyasu? Are you playing around again?" Dropping the Keys into a Handcrafted bowl he decided to investigate. He's a man, the patriarch, if not him who would defend his property. Maddened he stomped up the wooden staircase, the creaks of the old material giving in beneath his heavy feet filling the entire entrance hall with that nasty noise.

Once he reached the upper floor everything stopped, the sound of his steps was drowned out under a heavy sense of Tension. The furrowed eyebrows raised along with his eyelids. The once angered man but a few seconds ago had crumbled down, no matter how much the Patriarch went over the facts in his mind this situation was inexplicable. He didn't own anything that created this sheer sense of dread at home, he would have known. What if Keicho or Okuyasu found it and got hurt? He as a father should be the last person to have anything like this.

Out of the Dark a heartful chuckle emerged, posh in Nature. Slowly the man's eyes slid over to the source, his office. A bright glow was leaking out from under the door, the smoke from earlier seemed to flow out of there like a calm sea. Not menacing in itself yet fear inducing at the thought of what lies within.

"O-oi! W-who do you think you are!" It's what he had to do. On a moment's notice he lowered his stance and broke into a sprint toward his office door. He'll use his shoulder to break the door open, hopefully knocking that smug prick behind it out. Mere inches before the door he closed his eyes, bracing for the impact.

The door was sturdier than he thought, on impact the recoil went throughout his entire body. His burly body dropped to the floor instantly, the shock of actually having done it and charging into furniture he paid oh so much for was torture. When he wakes up he better not have suffered a concussion. He has to work tomorrow there's no way around it.

"My, my. What sheer determination to weed out the intruder. Seems like you're just flowing over with pride, no?"

That taunting voice was not the thing he wanted to hear the moment he woke up, slowly but surely he placed his hands down to push himself up. Looking around to find himself in the Office…yet the Door was closed. There were no signs of a near 6 foot man comming through and throwing his entire weight against it. As opposed to the wall on his left. A clear indentation showing the supports keeping the Walls uptight. Paint having crumbled down onto a pile infront of him. With his nice suit stained he got onto his knees…but couldn't go further.

He's scared straight. There was a man sitting in his office chair with one leg crossed over the other giving off an Aura of calmness, all he was clothed in were yellow trousers with a provocative cut. A crotch window which luckily didn't expose anything lewd as he was decent enough to cover up in a sort of Dark skintight singlet. Shadows shrouding his facial features. The man chose not to let the person who's home he invaded answer, instead he took charge. Getting out of the chair, putting a hand on his hip while gaining the posture similar to a candle, standing tall and unwavering. As he moved to stare down at the Patriarch a slight grin forming on his curved lips revealing a pair of fangs within his mouth.

"I do believe we can come to a deal Mr. Nijimura."

Of course Nijimura wouldn't just take a man barging into his home demanding a deal kindly. He had to stand up for himself! Quickly he began to come to his feet, aiming toward the Man in the shadows.

"Just wait you god damn bas-!"

Before he could think about a way to pummel the intruder he found himself back on his knees, clapping comming from the opposite side of the room.

"You're welcome to try as much as you like. It really won't get your oh so precious family business back on the market."

Nijimura froze. How did he know about his business? It wasn't international yet and from the looks of this fellow he's Probably European. Foreigners almost definetley don't know a lot about Japan! Especially Morioh!

"My Business is doing just fine thank you."

Admitting defeat infront of this stranger is the last thing he's going to even consider as a possibility right about now. The man shook his head and reached into a pocket in the inside of his pants, a hand grasped his face as he pulled out an Envelope. An Envelope Nijimura remembers having thrown away once.

"I can tell this Message did arrive as you seem to be in awe about it. Go on, take it."

With that the Envelope lazily fell to the floor like a stone, the humps on the cover only confirm his theory that it's that weird letter sent to his own address from Egypt. Colorful crystals and gems were inside, undoubtedly going for a lot of money on the open market. Nijimura was too stubborn however to accept it. He viewed it as a joke by some enemy he made along the way.

As Nijimura slowly got up he still couldn't look the man in the face without looking up, his physical frame really just added to the immense presence of this person. Not to forget the psychological toll this is taking on him.

Just infront of the Man Nijimura stopped, balling up his hands. His mental fortitude is diminished, yet he's not easily taken down.

"Fuck. Off. A Nijimura doesn't take bribes." He absolutely had it. He stomped forward and thrusted a finger at him.

There it was again, this weird feeling and now the envelope was balanced on top of his finger.

"I believe that a Strong ruler repays his folk for their efforts. The folk on the lower end are glad. Not just because of the reward. But for the Blessing of being able to operate under a powerful leader."

Now, as a reasonable man Nijimura did what any sane person would do. He freaked out, screaming in frustration

"Get out! Get out of my House now! Take your stupid magic tricks away from me you door to door mediocre Trickster!"

He's completely had it. He's going to be absolutely livid, hopefully lay in bed all day so he won't do any harm to his angels. To everything above just let them not meet him right about now, today or tomorrow because he needs to get his frustration out.

"…Dad's screaming again…it'll be alright Oku." Keicho. Nijimura looked over to the closed door in shock. Now this looney knows he's got kids.

"Hm. You're looking sick to death over poor Okuyasu and Keicho, ironic don't you think?"

"How…how do you know their names. Answer me-!"

"Do you really believe you're in the position to order me around? Oh well... I'm kind enough to humor your request. Let's just say in pursuit of my goals I have to do some digging. I have to know people's strengths, their interests…their weaknesses."

"Weaknesses? Wh- what? You have nothing against me!"

"Need I demonstrate my point. I'm not really in the mood to clean blood from my garments."

"N-no please don't hurt them!"

"Now. Now will you listen?"

"Yes! Just don't get them involved alright?"

He's won. Just by mentioning his offspring he managed to turn a proud man into a little bitch quivering at his feet clasping at his Fashionable suspenders. A satisfied grin formed, laying a hand on the other's shoulder.

"All I need from you is Intel. Intel on any Stand user you encounter. In return I will repay you handsomely with gold, gems…maybe even friendship?"

Still puzzled about the whole thing Nijimura looks up, a stand? The man just talked about it as if it were a common occurrence. Was he talking about night stands.

"Oh right, how clumsy of me. You have no clue what a stand is." At that moment a Golden fist appeared over the man's neck and tore out a piece. A tendril comming out from the piece and straight into Nijimuras forehead and into his cranium. It's like a drill at full speed breaking through a piece of cardboard. It was too quick to perceive any pain on the was in but now that it stuck there the Searing pain took over. Immediately he clutched at his forehead and rolled over screaming in agony. Picking at the bud only to have it tighten it's grip, amplifying the pressure inside of his head.

"Call me Lord Dio. Remember the name. Don't you dare mention this event to anybody. I'll make sure your business booms if you keep up your end of the bargain. That's everything you need to know."

Dio stood there, towering over the utterly broken shell of a man. Seemingly relishing in Nijimuras screams of agony. He couldn't surpress a sincere giggle. How amusing that person was. Thinking he could've done anything against the presence that is DIO.

Sending some cronie to take some revenge on this poor sod for ignoring the message was a brilliant idea. The woman wasn't intended to die but really that detail is as important as the knowledge of a Rat shitting on the road in some Backward village in Australia.

Australia…there were tons of Criminals who'd just be heads over tails to join his cause before he went into the casket. Maybe he should go and explore that place next. Just to see what Britain has done in their time with that Filth.

For now though it's time to retreat to America. He's in the mood to visit a good friend of his.

#fictober day 3 #JJBA #DIO #dio brando #Nijimuras Father #Pre SDC #Pre Fuglification of Okuyasus father #This made me realize I'm gay for DIO #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jojo no kimyou na bouken #fictober19 #my first fictober

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a-sad-excuse-of-everything · 6 years ago

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Dreamless (Part three)

Prologue Part One

Izuku x reader

Izuku’s life seems like bliss, but will old memories come and haunt him?

The past few week has been heaven for Izuku.

He still could not shake the fact that life was going so well. Classes were great, he was training his quirk, and the highlight of it all, he got to go home and spend time with (Y/N).

The effects that she had on Izuku were something you could not ignore. His confidence rose, his mood lightened, he always felt well rested, and he was energized. (Y/N) gave him something to look forward to, a constant thing he could always count on being there no matter what his day was like.

He studied harder and trained like no tomorrow for her. He wanted to impress her, make her proud of him. Because she had known him when he was still more shy and reserved, every night when they had their pre parting talk he would mention getting better mentally and she would look so happy. So proud that he was changing his own life to make things better for himself and no one else. It made her happy that he was getting better, and it made him happy to see her happy. At school his classmates seemed to enjoy his company. Training with anyone was rather nice, they enjoyed being around his positive attitude and wholesome atmosphere. While he was not perfect in any means, he still got quite nervous about doing certain risky actions and talking to certain brown haired girls, he was better. Far better than before.

Everyone noticed, but some were not so keen on his transition.

Despite years of conditioning Izuku to be a nervous, spineless wreck of a human, Bakugo could not seem to feel happy about his transition from weak to strong. He was becoming a better person, and Bakugo could not stand that. He had tried to counter this change when he first noticed it, continuing the same verbal harassment as before. For awhile it worked too, he would revert back to his old habits and be submissive and teary eyed. Still, as time passed by Izuku started to brush off more of Bakugo’s words and stand up for himself. He would just calmly walk away and handle the situation with more confidence, making Bakugo look more and more idiotic for yelling at him.

Not only that, but his quirk use looked as if it took less of a toll on his body. Despite often going home with broken arms and legs, he came back the next day looking right as rain. To Bakugo, this looked like Izuku’s quirk was getting stronger. In reality, it was (Y/N)’s doing, but he didn't know that. He just knew that his punching bag was starting to become more of an opponent than ever before. It would not be long before his patience would run out, and Izuku would be facing Katsuki’s absolute worst.

Along with the help mentally (Y/N) gave Izuku, she also helped him physically. When he started to sleep in Recovery Girl’s office after breaking his various limbs various times, that would translate back into the dream world. Of course (Y/N) would immediately come to his side and help him out, pressing her hand against his forehead until the damage was gone. When asking for an explanation, she had said it was one of her quirks. She could take someone else's injury and put it on herself. Of course Izuku flipped out at first, telling her not to take his injuries just because he was reckless, but his mind was put at ease when she had told him her father had a healing quirk much like recovery girls. If she woke up with a broken arm her dad could fix it. He still protested when she tried to take his injuries, but she always insisted.

“A way to say thank you” as she had put it.

He had no idea why she was saying thank you, but went along with it anyways.

Finally, after a long day of school, Izuku was finally heading home. He had done quite a bit of working out with his class today, as a way to help strengthen their bodies, and he was very much tired. While making his way home, he turned a corner passing an alley that laid nestled between two rows of housing. Thinking nothing of it, he continued walking through until his arm was grabbed. He froze at the sudden contactm and did not stop it from pulling him into the secluded alley and throwing him to the floor. Adjusting his eyes to the darkness that now surrounded him and his attacker, he finally got to see who had threw him down.

It was Bakugo.

Placing his foot onto the greenette’s chest, he leaned forward and got closer to his face.

“What the fuck is up with you lately?”

He was confused. “What do you mean Kacchan?”

“Don't call me that!! And what do you mean ‘you don't know’? You sure as hell know!”

“I-I’m sorry Katsuki but I really don't know what you mean.”

“You don't know? I will tell you ‘What you don't know’. Why are you so happy all the damn time?! Always smiling and being positive, it makes me sick! And this quirk of yours, it makes no sense. What do you mean it ‘developed’ earlier this year, that never happens! Were you trying to hide it from me? Do you see me too weak to know about it?”

“Katsuki I-”

He could not finish his sentence before the wind was kicked out of him by the ash blond boy. Picking him up by his collar and slamming him into the wall.

“Your worthless, you know that?”

He slammed him back into the ground, kicking him more while continuing his taunts.

“Why don't you use your quirk against me, Deku? Aren't you so much stronger than me? C’mon, give me your best try!”

Izuku knew he couldn't. He had not used his quirk against anyone else before, and it was far too dangerous. If he fought back with his quirk, it could potentially kill him. He was also stronger physically, so if he fought back by just fighting in a non-controlled environment it would just make things worse. He thought about running, trying to escape, but if he was caught once more it was game over. No matter what he did at this point, he was at a loss. He couldn't do anything.

So he ket Katsuki beat him senseless, spit insults and take the higher ground. He eventually was satisfied with himself and what he had done. He had longed for the control he had before, and the beaten boy that lay crying at his feet had satisfied that part of his mind. Part of him felt guilty as to what he had done, Izuku had technically done nothing wrong, but that was not going to stop him. He had to be better than him, and there was no other ways to put him back into his place.

Izuku, used to this treatment by now, waited until Katsuki had walked away before getting up himself. He wiped the blood that had started gushing out of his nose away and started to feel around his body for fractures or broken bones. He had some rather major bruises, but nothing was broken. He was okay.

He made the short journey back to his home in silence, and hen greeting his mother told her that he was just going to get some more sleep. She had started acting quite frantic about all of his bruises taking form, but he just assured her that it was from training. He could tell she was not convinced, but she let him go anyways. He would come to her if something was going on, right? She shouldn't pry, he would come to her if it was necessary. Limping over to his bed, Izuku didn't even bother taking off his school clothes. Tossing his blazer aside, he reached his bed and fell face first into his pillows.

An hour later he was still awake and feeling restless. Despite wanting to sleep, and wanting to see (Y/N), Katuki had bought back old memories that would not leave his mind alone.

‘Useless’

‘Quirkless’

‘Waste of space’

It was all haunting him.

He glanced over at his clock and realized it was only eight, and he suddenly remembered what he could do. It was a running joke in the house with his mother that her doctor prescribed way too many sleeping pills for her occasional insomnia. There was bottle after bottle tucked in a box in the pantree, so why not just take one of those?

His mother always told him ever since he was young to only take them when he really needed it, and a few times during his childhood he had. Lazily getting up he made his way to the pantree, grabbed a bottle, and trudged back into his room. Opening the bottle, he shoved one of the large pills into his mouth and took a gulp of water. He laid back down on his bed and it was not long before sleep took over his form.

And he was back in dream land.

#izuku midoria x reader #midoria x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #deku x reader #izuku x reader #reader insert #x reader

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sotthestyles · 7 years ago

Text

All The Love.

A little Valentine’s Day themed blurb and the arrival of a special little someone!! Enjoy, and let me know what you think!! ❣️❣️❣️

On the morning of February 14th, you woke up feeling exhausted.

The previous evening, you had been experiencing some minor contractions. This was your first pregnancy, so everything was new. The sensations in your abdomen were the weirdest things you had ever experienced, so it wasn’t unreasonable for you to become worried.

You instructed Harry to phone your midwife to ask if you should head to the hospital, but she told you to wait until they got closer in timing. Eventually, you were able to fall asleep and everything was fine, but you knew it would be a different story once you woke up.

That morning, you mentally prepared myself to put on a happy face for Harry, because you really didn’t want to ruin his day. He was so adorable when it came to holidays and events that celebrated love. He always spoiled you even when you told him not to, but he never listens. Luckily, you spoil him in return with plenty of special gifts, kisses and cuddles.

At that point in time, though, kissing and loving on your husband was the last thing on your mind. You couldn’t deny it, every Valentine’s Day you’d spent with Harry had been wonderful, but this year you were just so hugely pregnant. All you wanted to do was just be left alone and be able to sleep all day long. Your inconsistent contractions were definitely not helping your grumpy mood either.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that Harry’s side of the bed was empty, the blankets thrown everywhere from your moving around all night long. You waddled towards the bathroom before deciding to head downstairs and see what Harry was up to.

As you padded down the stairs, another contraction washed over you and you immediately squeezed your eyes shut. The feeling only lasted for a few seconds, then you were headed to find Harry. You cautiously walked down the hallway and followed the scent of warm pancakes coming from the kitchen.

“Hey, bub.” You greeted as you entered the kitchen. Harry was stood in front of the stove where he was carefully watching the pancakes he was making. A smile crept on his face when he heard your voice.

“Hey, y'woke up!” Harry teased as he glanced back at you from his pancakes. You chuckled as you rolled your eyes at his comment. At this point in your pregnancy, you both knew you needed as much rest as you could get before the baby came. It was a miracle you had even slept as long as you had. If you were being honest, your hungry stomach was what had woken you up.

“Smells good.” You commented as you stood by the kitchen island. Harry smirked proudly before turning the burner off on the stove. He sauntered over to you and held his arms out.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.” Harry grinned as he squeezed you in a hug, minding the watermelon sized bump that stood between our bodies.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, H.” You replied simply as you nuzzled your face into the fabric of his soft, plain white t-shirt. Harry grinned happily as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“How’re yeh feeling this mornin’?” Harry questioned as he loosened his grip on you. You glanced up at him as you felt his large hands drift down towards your swollen belly.

“I guess I’m alright. I’m still having contractions.” You explained with a heavy sigh. Everything was a lot harder now that you were nearing the end of your pregnancy. Even taking breaths was a challenge somedays.

“How long are they?” Harry questioned curiously, his eyebrow quirked up.

He was a pregnancy and baby expert, and you definitely could not deny that. He had read every parenting and pregnancy book that had ever been written, within the nine months you had been pregnant. He asked all of the questions to the doctors and midwives, and he knew every possible symptom of pregnancy and labour. You thought it was adorable having such an educated partner by your side through the crazy nine months of pregnancy you endured together. Your friends and family always made a point of praising how involved Harry was, and it always made you smile.

“Well, they’re like fifteen minutes apart. They only last a few seconds though.” You explained as you shrugged your shoulders. Harry nodded along as you spoke, taking in all the information and processing his thoughts to lead into his next question.

“Do yeh think we’ll be spending Valentine’s Day in the hospital?” Harry questioned with a smirk. You glanced up at him with a smirk and shrugged your shoulders again.

“I kind of hope we will, though,” You confessed honestly, “because I cannot carry this baby inside of me much longer.“

If you were honest, you were getting sick of being pregnant. The constant back pain, lack of comfortable sleeping positions, intense heartburn and nonstop pressure on your bladder was taking a huge toll on you and your emotions. At this point, you just wanted to meet your little baby girl and cuddle her in you arms. And watch Harry cuddle her in his arms as well.

“How cool would it be to have a baby born on Valentine’s Day?” Harry thought out loud as he tended to his pancakes on the stove.

“As long as she’s healthy and happy, it doesn’t matter what day she’s born.” You replied with a smile. That was the ultimate goal, and you had a feeling everything would be alright as long as you had Harry by your side the entire time.

Harry hummed at your comment before suggesting you take a seat at the table while he finished up with the pancakes. The two of you sat down together and ate a breakfast of fruit and pancakes, celebrating your last Valentine’s Day as a couple without children. You reminisced on how amazing the past couple of years spent with Harry had been, and you spoke about how amazing the future would be for the two of you and your future family.

As you ate, you felt a few more contractions, and they began to get closer in timing. You grunted out loud during one painful contraction and Harry immediately glanced over at you with a concerned expression on his face.

“What?” You breathed out, confused by his reaction.

“That was five minutes from the last one.” Harry explained as he checked the clock on the kitchen wall. You hadn’t noticed he had been keeping track of the time between each contraction, but when you thought about it, you knew he was right.

Suddenly, another contraction pulsed through your body. You took a deep breath as you breathed through the longest contraction you had experienced all day. Harry immediately fell into a panic, and you knew that he knew what was happening.

“I’ll go grab the bags,” Harry offered as he quickly placed your plates in the kitchen sink. You watched as he rushed around the kitchen before heading for the doorway.

“Are yeh ready t'go to the hospital?” Harry questioned, sounding nervous but also excited. You suddenly felt very anxious. The two of you both knew the early signs of labour, and you were definitely experiencing quick, but prolonged, contractions.

You and Harry both had a good feeling this baby was coming today.

“Are yeh alright?” Harry questioned when he returned from upstairs with your overnight bag and the baby’s diaper bag.

“Harry,” You spoke quietly, breathless from the contractions, “give me a minute, please.” Harry nodded in understanding, realizing you were super overwhelmed by everything that was happening all at once. He stood behind you and gently rubbed your shoulders and back as you breathed through a strong contraction.

“We need to go to the hospital.” You said suddenly. Harry immediately nodded and helped you stand from your seat at the table.

“Ready t'go?” Harry questioned after helping you get your shoes and coat on. You felt incredibly nervous, and uncomfortable because of the contractions, but you nodded confidently at his question.

This was really happening. There was no turning back, no matter how nervous you were. This was happening today. On Valentine’s Day.

“Alright, let’s head off.” Harry said excitedly as he opened the front door. He held his hand out to help you make your way down the front steps and you thanked him graciously.

“We’re having a baby today!” Harry grinned excitedly as he helped you into the car.

“We are having a baby today.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his excitement.

Hours and hours later, you sat with your precious bundle of joy cradled in your arms on the hospital bed. Harry was sat directly beside you, sleepily rubbing his eyes as he watched you and the baby lay cuddled together.

Your sweet little girl was born on February 14th, Valentine’s Day.

She was born on the day that celebrated love, and we thought that was just perfect. For all the promoting of love that Harry does on a daily basis, it only made sense that his daughter be born on the very day reserved for love. She was your little love bug, and the absolute love of your lives.

“How do yeh feel?” Harry questioned quietly as he placed his hand on the small of your back.

“I’m absolutely wonderful. A bit sore, but she’s worth it.” You explained as you glanced over at Harry.

“I’m really proud of yeh, honey.” Harry replied truthfully. He grinned happily then leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you for everything,” You said quietly, “and thank you for giving me her.” Harry’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink at your statements of gratitude. He didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky to have the two of you girls in his life.

Harry leaned forwards and gently pressed his lips to yours. You hummed happily as his swollen pink lips moved back, and a grin appeared on his face.

“How’s our girl?” Harry questioned as he glanced down at your sleeping daughter in your arms.

“She’s doing great.” You replied simply. You had absolutely no complaints about your baby girl. She was so calm and content to be laid in your arms, and she only cried out when she was hungry. You and Harry felt very lucky to have such a sweet little girl to call yours.

“She’s so precious.” Harry grinned as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You nodded as he gave you a quick, soft squeeze. You gently moved your baby in your arms to change your position and she began to squirm a bit. Her eyes fluttered open and she immediately glanced up towards Harry.

“Hi, my love,” Harry cooed as he brushed his large fingers over her tiny hand, "I’m your daddy.“ Your daughter blinked up at the two of you, but held a tight grip on Harry’s fingers .

“Give daddy some cuddles, little miss.” You said as you lifted her up slightly. You carefully handed your daughter off into Harry’s large, tattoo-covered arms and he eagerly took her from you.

He had always loved babies, and you did as well, but having your own to hold and cuddle was such a surreal experience. You immediately knew that Harry was meant to be a dad when you watched him hold your baby girl. Everything felt perfect in that moment.

"Hi, sweet girl,” Harry grinned, as he cradled her in his large arms, “it’s nice to finally meet you, my love.” Your daughter snuggled up to his chest and you knew their father-daughter bond was incredibly strong already.

“Oh, you’re gorgeous, love. Just like your mumma.” Harry cooed with a grin.

“Harry,” You chuckled bashfully. He giggled and shook his head.

“S’true!” He insisted, though you would easily disagree, “if m’honest, I didn’t think I could love a girl as much as I love you, honey.” His confession caught you off guard.

“This little love bug has proven me wrong.” Harry explained with a smirk as he glanced at you.

“Aren’t you the man who frolics around throwing flowers and proclaiming ‘all the love’?” You teased him playfully. Harry chuckled at your comment.

“Yeah, but this was different. I am gonna give her all my love, though. That won’t be very difficult, seein’ how sweet and lovely she already is for us.” Harry explained happily.

“I love her,” You confessed quietly, “and I love you so much.” Harry smirked happily.

“I love you both so much.” Harry replied sincerely. You rested your head against his hoodie covered shoulder and he leaned and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

This was the beginning of a very exciting time in your lives, and the look on Harry’s face as he glanced up at you from staring at your daughter immediately solidified that for you. The two of them were easily your favourite people in the whole world, and you could not wait to spend the rest of your lives together as a happy family.

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