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kentos-filmcamera · 3 years ago

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10 times, 1 occasion - Inumaki Toge

2. Gift

A/N: aaaaa i woke up to a lot of notifs, i’m so glad everyone is liking it so far! thank u sm for reading! just a quick clarification, I’m setting the reader as non binary; i will be using mostly they/them pronouns and sometimes she/her but i will avoid to do so. happy reading!

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“Megumi!” You called, waving to the underclass man. He offered you a tiny smile and a wave back. You let go of Toge’s hand to pull him into an embrace. “You’re taller! How much you’ve grown, my boy!” You’ve known him since forever, way before you met your fellow second years. And you always loved to pester him.

“I’m the same exact way since you last saw me” He deadpanned as you pinched his cheeks, his voice as plain as you remembered it to be. You only laughed and ruffled his hair, earning a groan.

“Where’s my hug?” You heard the voice of Gojo Satoru resonate through your ears for the first time in a while, and the most annoying phrase in existence was what he chose to say.

You turned to look at him, unimpressed, your expression matching Fushiguro’s. You were met with his usual cheeky smile and raised brows. He extended his arms and did ‘grabby’ hands as children did. Oh my. This man was annoying; and to think you even considered you missed him in the first place.

“Up your ass” You replied and moved his arms away from nearing your torso. He gasped dramatically and pouted like a wounded puppy. You only gave him a pat in his shoulder “Glad to see you’re... Well, alive”

“Don’t speak to Gojo-sensei like that!” You heard a foreign voice, the same one you heard from a far moments ago. You turn to look at the boy with the pink hair with a raised eyebrow. Something in your head clicked, as did your tongue. You pointed at him.

“Sukuna’s vessel” You said. Even up in the mountains the hottest gossip was the kid that ate one of Sukuna’s fingers and actually withstanded to house the spirit inside him. It was the talk at the dinner table for weeks. Your sister was specifically interested in it one night, making her spill hot soup all over your lap when she was in charge of serving everyone that night.

“Itadori Yuuji” He corrected. You stared at him up and down and gave a tiny smile and a nod.

“And this is Nobara Kugisaki” Panda indicated to you, as you turned to face the ginger that looked at you with gleaming eyes. You waved shortly before introducing yourself to both.

One of their faces lit up “You got attacked by a special cursed spirit last year right?” The boy you recognized as Itadori spoke. Your face blanked and drained of any color as you tensed. The only remedy you found was to nod, your jaw clenched shut as Inumaki reached in to rub his hand through your shoulders. It relaxed you, but you didn’t remember him being this touchy before.

“Idiot! You don’t remind other people of their trauma!” Kugisaki hit him in the back of the head, noticing how your attitude shifted in seconds.

“But! It was awesome! You were the first first year ever to expand a complete domain!” Itadori protested, but he slumped realizing how far you were. Your eyes looked as if they were in another galaxy, your mind taking them far as you spaced out. You hated doing it, but it came rather involuntarily when you were avoiding getting hurt. “You’re so skilled”

“It wasn’t awesome. I—“ You sighed, and accepted the compliment, your mind returning back to the scene. “Thank you. I’ve been training since I saw my first curse” You gave a light thankful bow to him before turning to Toge “Walk me to my room?”

“Sake” He nodded, and led you ahead. Panda passed onto you the duffle bag and gave Inumaki the remaining handbag as you two walked in silence towards the second year building.

Your room was exactly as you left it, except for the made up bed. You remembered that morning clearly; you had always been an organized person, but when Maki pulled you out of your bed for what would be your last mission for a while, you didn’t have the time to fix it before leaving. As you looked around, you heard the sound of bags hitting the floor and the generic sound of typing on an electronic keyboard. Then your phone vibrated shortly on the pocket of your jacket. Taking it out, you read the new message.

[ Inumaki Toge: i laid the bed after you left. i knew you wouldn’t like to find it all messy after all this time ]

“Thank you” You spoke as a response. You stood in place, arms crossed and thought. Inumaki chuckled at your tongue poking out from the corner of your lips. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have liked to find the bed unmade after months” You smiled briefly at the warmth spreading through your chest, opened the windows and looked at your space.

On the bed, your new uniform was laid down, awaiting your return. You asked for both the option of wearing pants and a skirt, depending on the type of mission, you settled with what seemed more comfortable. Your closet was empty, as you didn’t know for how much you were going to be away, except for a few pieces you stole from Maki’s closet. Everything Toge gave you, you took with you, and you wouldn’t take things from Yuta without his permission. You looked at the picture on your nightstand of the five of you, taken by Gojo as you exited a training session. You laughed with Panda as Maki, seemingly angry elbowed you in the ribs, Inumaki and Yuta enjoyed the moment quietly, both smiling. Fitted on the inside edge of that picture frame was a strip of pictures you took at a carnival, in a picture booth with Inumaki before exorcising a curse haunting the house of mirrors. One of the most difficult, terrifying missions you could have ever taken, in your first year nevertheless. But getting some Italian food sponsored by Gojo’s wallet at 2 AM on a Saturday was a great way to end the night.

“Heh, look, you had spiky hair” You mentioned, taking the picture strip out of the frame and handing it over to the boy, who passed you another picture from your board by your desk in exchange. It was a selfie Gojo took with you and Maki, as he found you both sneaking in after getting piercings and tempura in Shibuya, taking Ijichi as hostage to drive you there. Remembering the event, you flipped down your septum, and checked for your five lobe piercings and your helix. Due to your family’s cursed technique, piercings were more than cliche, but on the ear, not on the nose. You opted for a septum for whenever you had to hide it. Your phone vibrated again.

[ Inumaki Toge: i always liked that piercing on u. u look very cool ]

[ Inumaki Toge: you’ve always looked cool :)) ]

“You flatter me too much, Toge, thank you” You turned away to hide the blush on your cheeks. Soon, you received a tap on your shoulder. You faced a flustered Inumaki with a dianty box in his hands. “Uh, you shouldn’t have, I—“ You were perplexed, trying to find the reason why he would give you a present.

“Bonito Flakes” He insisted, shoving the gift into your hands and pointing to the door with his head. He wanted to give you some space, to read the letter and to change back into your uniform.

“I’ll be quick, I promise” You gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek before he rushed to leave the room.

You prioritized changing into your uniform, deciding for the navy high rise wide pants with slits on their outer sides going from your mid-upper thigh to the bottom of the piece, made for better movement in battle. You buttoned up and tucked the navy jujutsu high jacket, of which you wore a shorter version, with a classic white collar from your button up peeking out from underneath. You scouted your bag for the tiny chain you hung from the eyelet of the collar, it was a family heirloom, a protection chain; if anyone touched it in battle, your cursed technique of choice would come into effect. Besides, it made you look more classy.

You fixed the puffy long sleeves, the form and the material more breathable, flexible and comfortable for you. You reached out to your closet and fitted the white patent ankle boots, almost tripping while doing so.

“I’m okay!” You shouted back, responding to a soft knock on the door. They were similar to Inumaki’s own shoes, but more stylish. In general, you were more stylish than him; or anyone else in both campuses. You finally fitted your black arm band, which had strapped in a box of needles, a rather thin rope and some thread.

You sat in your bed and took the box between your hands, circling around your fingertips. You removed the decorative bow and cut through the sealing tape with your fingernails. In between the folds of tissue paper, you found a golden ring. Your lost ring. It looked different, but you could recognize that oval shaped emerald anywhere. You touched it several times to check if it was real or not. And it was. You rushed to find an explanation to this, prying the letter open with your fingernails.

“Hi,

As I’m writing this, I’m not sure when you’re coming back. Or if you’re even doing so. Writing this letter gives me hope for your return, as so did getting you this welcome back gift. It’s the ring you took so much pride in owning. Oh, well, part of it. I remember how you got rushed to the infirmary, wailing, touching your damaged hand to see if you had your ring. But you didn’t. I went back to the scene myself that same day, and the next, and the one after the other to find your missing jewel. When I found it, it looked terrible. It was dirty, bent, and the emerald had a crack in one of its corners. It took me some work, but I found someone that could restore it. It’s the original stone, and the original material but it had to be reshaped. I know you like signets, so I hope you can find appreciation in this one too.

You looked once more at the piece and let out a teary chuckle. You had suffered so much the loss of that ring. It was a present from your grandmother, now deceased. You hated yourself incessantly for losing it. But now, it was back in your grip. You slipped it into your ring finger and before continuing your lecture, you fanned your under eyes to avoid ruining the hint of makeup you currently wore.

If you’re reading this, I am so glad you’re back. I missed you, so so much. I’m glad to see you in good health. And I’m sorry everything happened the way it did. You didn’t do anything wrong. I know how you feel. Please trust me. Thank you once more for allowing me to speak to you through written words. You’re the only one I want to write to, anyways. I don’t have the patience for anyone else. Welcome back, cookie.

I love you.

Yours, Toge”

#jujutsu kaisen #inumaki #inumaki toge #jjk inumaki #toge inumaki #inumaki x reader #jjk fluff #10times1occ

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years ago

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A comforting embrace

Summary: Still thinking that he was the one with the Djinn wishes, Jaskier is overcome by guilt for killing Valdo Marx

Relationships: Jaskier&Valdo Marx, Jaskier/Geralt (background, pining, no actual relationship, unrequited)

angst, hurt/comfort (but mainly hurt), somewhat open ending

Word count: 2773

Content warning: grief, guilt, mention of blood, presumed character death

“I wish very badly to leave this place forever!”

Jaskier was lucky. He was so damn lucky that the Djinn hadn’t twisted his last wish and killed him off right then and there.

One should think a bard, master of words and silvertongue, would know how easily words could be misinterpreted, and yet, in his moment of blind panic, he had blurted out a wish that could have been his end.

He liked to think that Geralt would have cared if Jaskier had died. Maybe not as much as Jaskier had, when he had thought that Geralt had been crushed by a crumbling building, but maybe a teeny tiny bit of devastation would have been appropriate.

Then again, Geralt would have had Yennefer’s arms to find solace in.

While Jaskier was overtaken by the chilling realisation that he could have died by his own words just a couple of minutes earlier, and needed Geralt close to assure him that they were both alright, that nothing bad would happen to them now, Geralt didn’t wast a single thought for Jaskier and instead turned all of his attention to the woman who had held a knife to Jaskier’s throat and had nearly killed Geralt.

The initial surge of relief and pure joy at seeing Geralt alive was quickly dimmed when the events of the past hours came crushing down on Jaskier with a force that took his breath away and squeezed his throat as tightly as the Djinn had earlier.

Jaskier had nearly died. He had come dangerously close to watching his best friend and the man who held his heart in his hands, die. He had to watch said man fall in love with someone else.

And yet Jaskier was lucky.

He had to be, for if he wasn’t, if he were to lose this one last piece of driftwood he was holding onto for dear life, he would fall apart and drown in the terrifying reality of what had happened to him that day.

Jaskier was lucky. Others weren’t.

Jaskier had thought that, when the Countess de Stael had left him for a troubadour, who wooed her with poetry and love songs stolen from Jaskier, he had thought that he had every right to be enact revenge on Valdo.

And he had. A ditty dragging Valdo’s name through the mud. A scathing sonnet about how Valdo was no more a poet than a common ass was. Winning back the Countesses’ heart. All of it would have been revenge that Jaskier wouldn’t have enacted with a smug smirk and satisfaction surging through him.

But this… the thing he truly had done….

Jaskier’s hands began to shake and abruptly, he turned away from the sight of Geralt and the sorceress together. Even as his breath came short and his heart began to pound against his ribs like the beating of a drum at an execution, Jaskier evaded Chireadan’s concerned questions.

He had to get out of here. He had to leave, to make this right –

There was no making this right. He had killed a man. A simple sentence had been all it had taken and Valdo had been no more.

The fate that Jaskier himself had only narrowly escaped had been inflicted on another man – and for what? Jaskier wouldn’t be able to see the Countess ever again. Not after the wish he had made when he had been drunk on cheap alcohol and bitterness. The thought of her welcoming him with little clothing, that had been so appealing when he had been heartbroken and deep in his cups, churned his stomach now that he thought about it. She wouldn’t have a choice. She would do whatever Jaskier had damned her to do and he couldn’t do that to her, no matter how much his heart ached for a pair of loving arms to embrace him and for gentle lips to tell him that everything would be alright.

Geralt had never embraced him and whatever words he would have for Jaskier, probably wouldn’t be gentle. They still would be enough. Because they would come from Geralt.

Yet, Jaskier didn’t stick around to find out if Geralt ever was going to offer him any comfort.

He took his bags – not that there was much of Jaskier’s that Geralt had taken with him when he had hoisted Jaskier onto Roach and brought him to this accursed place – and his lute and left.

Maybe Geralt would worry when he realised that Jaskier was gone. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice.

With an ache in his chest, Jaskier forced his feet to take him away from Geralt and the happiness he experienced right now. Geralt didn’t need Jaskier, his fears, his doubts and his guilt to drag him down. He didn’t need Jaskier to wish he was in the sorceresses’ place. He just simply didn’t need Jaskier.

He didn’t even know where exactly he was going. Away. That was the most important thing.

It was only, when he reached a small port, where merchant vessels could dock before heading further down the Pontar, that he knew where he needed to go.

It took up most of the coin he still had to his name and a promise to make himself useful on board, to convince the captain of the vessel to grant him passage to Cidaris via the sea route.

The days until he reached the coastal city, Jaskier spent agonising about what to do.

Back in his Oxenfurt days, Jaskier had considered Valdo Marx something like a friend, or at the very least a rival that he enjoyed drinking and joking around with. But decades had passed since those days and now, there was no second chance to rekindle the friendship they had once had.

The troubadour was dead and it was Jaskier’s fault. He had no right to weep over his grave. Yet, Jaskier knew, the least he could do was apologize to the man he had killed. It wouldn’t make anything right. It wouldn’t bring him back to life. But maybe it would make this guilt that lay around Jaskier’s chest like an iron chain, lessen its grip.

He left the ship without saying goodbye to the crew and for the first time in his life, he didn’t enter Cidaris with his head held high and a song on his lips, ready to prove that he was far superior to Marx.

“Where is the troubadour’s grave?” Jaskier asked the first person he came across, an older looking woman with flowers bundled in her arms.

She gave him a strange look – She knew! Somehow she knew Jaskier had killed Valdo! - and handed him one of the flowers she was carrying, a poppy. Red, like the blood on Jaskier’s hands.

“If you’re looking for someone sleeping beneath the earth,” the old woman said with a gentle smile and a pat to Jaskier’s hand, “you should head east. That’s where the cemetery is.”

How fitting. Valdo had always loved the sunrise, had made fun endlessly about how Jaskier was never able to get up before midday.

Now, he would never see the sunrise again.

Jaskier’s heart got heavier with every step he took towards the cemetery. By the time, he was walking the rows, looking for a headstone with the familiar name, his throat was restricted and his eyes burned.

It was his fault.

And now he couldn’t even find the damn grave.

He must have spent hours searching for the grave, before he eventually gave up. It was no use searching for longer. The sun had nearly disappeared beyond the horizon and the poppy in Jaskier’s hand was wilted and crushed from how tightly he gripped it.

With his head hung low, Jaskier left the cemetery. Perhaps there would be a plaque of honour at the court the troubadour had played in? If there was, it wasn’t very likely that Jaskier would be permitted entry to go search for it.

He still went there.

Just as he had thought, the guards didn’t let him in. Jaskier simply nodded in dejection and sat down a little ways off, where they wouldn’t be able to hear him.

His hands trembled, when he took his lute out of her case and began plucking the strings quietly. Quietly, he sang the words of grief and guilt he had come up with during the journey to Cidaris. He didn’t dare sing any louder, lest he found out that his voice wasn’t restored yet. It was shaky and tight and it hurt as he forced the notes past his throat, but he continued singing nonetheless, whether because the dead man deserved the respect or because the man still alive deserved the pain, he couldn’t tell.

The melody was soft and mournful. It wasn’t good enough. If Valdo were here, he would hate it, would despise that Jaskier had written a song for him and criticise it mercilessly. Jaskier would take it. He would gladly accept every jab and insult coming from Marx, if only he was still alive.

But he wasn’t.

All Jaskier could do was play a dirge for a friend who had become a bitter rival and who had been killed over some petty spat.

He wished, more than anything he hadn’t spoken those hateful words to the Djinn. He wished, he was still with Geralt, consoling him about his struggles with his child surprise and probably arguing, but at least they would be there together. He wished Geralt had never found the Djinn. And above all, he wished that Valdo Marx was still alive.

“Good gods, who died to make you sound so maudlin?” A familiar drawl reached Jaskier.

The bard flinched, his fingers missing the right strings and creating a dissonant screech. He whirled around and –

No. It couldn’t be.

“That sounded terrible,” Valdo Marx said with a lopsided smirk. “And I’m not just talking about the ending there. Everybody knows that you shouldn’t use that key for a slow song. It’s just going to make it sound miserable. Speaking of which, what in Melitele’s name happened to your clothes? Not even wearing a doublet and –“ the troubadour blanched. “Is that blood?”

Jaskier stared at him. Slowly, afraid that the vison would vanish if he moved to quickly, Jaskier took a step closer, clutching his lute, his only source of comfort. His eyes raked over the man in front of him. The cocky stance that had shifted as a horrified tension had grabbed hold of him. The blonde curls that were immaculate as always, despite the late hour. That damned stupid feathered hat. It was Valdo Marx. It was impossible.

“You’re dead.” The words leaving Jaskier were barely louder than a breath.

“What?” Marx’ brows drew together and a flash of true concern twisted his face. “Juli- Jaskier, are you alright?”

“I-you – “ Jaskier’s voice broke off with a sob and he shook so badly that his lute would have slipped out of his grip, had it not been held up why the strap around Jaskier’s neck.

In a heartbeat, Valdo was standing before him.

“Give me that,” he demanded with uncharacteristic softness and took the lute away from Jaskier, placing it carefully back in her case. “What happened to you? Are you hurt?” His eyes drifted back to the bloodsoaked chemise that Jaskier had been too distracted to change out of, not that he had had any other clothes with him when he had left Rinde. “Why aren’t you with your Witcher?”

Another choked sound escaped Jaskier. He didn’t understand. How could this be? How was Valdo Marx still alive? Djinns were obligated to grand any wish their master gave them. It had been a wonder that Jaskier’s last wish hadn’t backfired, but there had been no room for interpretation with his second wish and –

Oh.

The truth hit him like a bucket of icewater being flung over his head.

“Jaskier?” Valdo asked, concern making his voice tight, but Jaskier couldn’t react.

He hadn’t been the Djinn’s master. It hadn’t been his wished fulfilled.

He hadn’t been the one who had set a Djinn on someone he had once considered a friend. But –

‘I just want some damn peace!’

His throat had tightened, like a garrotte was pulled tight around it, making it impossible to breath, to speak! Jaskier had looked up at Geralt, so sure that he himself was somehow the reason for what was happening to him. He was so sure Geralt would save him.

It hadn’t been Jaskier’s words who had nearly killed someone he had once considered his friend.

‘Jaskier, you’re okay.’

Geralt had cared. He had been happy that Jaskier was alive. It didn’t matter that not a minute after, he had abandoned Jaskier to risk his life for the witch. Geralt cared that Jaskier was alright…didn’t he?

‘Let’s not jump to conclusions.’

Geralt was his friend. He was…he…

He hadn’t faltered once when Jaskier had begged him not to go into that building again. After it had collapsed, he hadn’t wasted a single moment to let Jaskier know that he was still alive.

When Jaskier had left, had Geralt even noticed?

“Jaskier, snap out of it!” Valdo grabbed him tightly by the shoulders, shaking him slightly.

Jaskier hadn’t been the one who had nearly killed someone he had once considered a friend. Then again, neither had Geralt, apparently. Because it seemed after everything, after decades of Jaskier singing his praises, of him trailing after Geralt like a devoted puppy, after years of Jaskier admiring and loving Geralt more than he had loved anyone else before, it was very likely that Geralt didn’t consider him a friend.

Maybe he could fix it. If Jaskier proved himself useful, if he made sure to be there for Geralt, when his relationship with the witch crashed and burned, perhaps he could save what he thought they had had. He could…he could be a good travel companion. He could become Geralt’s friend. He could-

Cool hands touched his cheeks, interrupting his spiralling thoughts.

“You’re shaking,” Valdo said, all of his earlier arrogance was gone. “Let me take you home. I know we have our differences, but I can’t let you stand here, looking like that.”

There was no bite in his voice, despite the lacklustre attempt at keeping the snark they usually exchanged going.

“Valdo?” Jaskier asked uncertainly, not knowing where to put his hands or what to do.

“I know,” Valdo said, dropping his hands immediately and taking a step back, “that we have our differences. But…we were friends once. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I even promise not to turn what you tell me into a song.”

He smiled wryly and Jaskier’s next sob was mixed with an unexpected laugh. When Valdo relaxed at that sound, there was nothing left of the pompous prick that was Jaskier’s most bitter rival. This was the man he had called his friend when they had been younger. This was the man, whose shoulder Jaskier had cried on, when he had gotten his heart broken for the first time, and with whom he had practiced the poems they were going to recite to the pretty medical students who would patch them up when they had drunk too much.

“Valdo?” Jaskier asked and he wasn’t the arrogant bard who sought to take revenge on his rival, anymore either.

“I’m here for you.”

Jaskier’s chin wobbled and before he could think twice about it, he flung himself into Valdo’s arms, burying his head into his chest and soaking the elegant doublet with his tears.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was muffled, but he didn’t stop talking. “I’m so sorry, Valdo. I’m sorry.”

Valdo didn’t reply. But he stroked one hand soothingly through Jaskier’s hair and held him close.

The embrace wasn’t given by the man Jaskier had wanted to hug him, but they were comforting nonetheless. If he could fix what he had broken between Valdo and him, then he could also fix his friendship with Geralt.

For now, though, he didn’t want to think about the witcher who had set a Djinn on him and broken his heart.

He just clutched the fabric of Valdo’s doublet tightly and let himself be held.

He wasn’t alone in this. Not anymore.

Tomorrow – for now, there was hope again for such a thing as a bright tomorrow – Jaskier would tell Valdo everything. And perhaps, if he was lucky, he would get to keep this friend.

As Valdo mumbled soothing nothings into his ear until Jaskier’s tears dried, Jaskier thought that maybe everything would be alright.

Maybe he truly was lucky.

#my writing #fic #witcher #witcher fic #the witcher #valdo marx #jaskier&valdo marx #jaskier #fanfic #Sorry I didn't edit this #I got really frustrated at being stuck with my writing and I just had to write and post something #to get it out of my system i guess #geraskier #angst #blood tw #jaskier whump #emotional whump #will post this later on ao3 #if i don't forget about it again

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iamnightduchess · 4 years ago

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Hi Queen ❤

I love your headcanons so much and I don’t know if you’ve ever done one of these, but I’d really like to imagine what it would be like if Mikasa and Reiner fell in love after the end of the manga, what this discovery would be like and how they would deal with this!

(Forgive me for my lousy english hahaha)

Hello dear, thank you for the Ask! 💖 It really helps me to envision a more ideal post-ending universe because the potential ending right now does not look promising that both of them will somehow survive (together) because I am foreseeing one of them voluntarily dies to save another person. I hope i'm wrong! 😢 I've only done a tiny snippet of ReiKasa in this Post-Rumbling HC AU. But, here's what I envision how it could possibly be IF they survive & they happen:

Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa) Post-Rumbling AU (Gen) Headcanon #16

Before we delve into Post-Rumbling period, it's interesting to observe the tiny moments where the seeds of trust and possibly, love between these two former enemies turned allies might have possibly begun sprouting.

The Rumbling

We've seen the way Reiner had implied on the plane in ch.133, how Eren might want to be stopped by someone. Reiner was using himself as a pretext; an example. If HE was the one with the FT & somehow finding himself unable to control it, he'd want to be stopped by someone he knows is capable of doing so (someone more powerful & stronger than he is) When he said that sentence, he was gazing at Mikasa.

There are 2 implications here, i) He is indirectly admitting in front of everyone that Mikasa is his weakness, like a failsafe. The one he knows who can take him down if he's the one with this enormous power & he's losing control, ii) Because to him, ever since they were younger, Eren is her family & a sensitive subject to her. Him voicing out his opinion and indirectly hinting that Eren is beyond the path of no return will hurt Mikasa's feelings & emotional state.

During the Paths Intermission, the moment Eren basically told the alliance to go fuck themselves, that he will keep moving forward for his freedom, while the alliance members are free to fight him if that is what they want; Reiner was horrified to know that Eren basically confirmed his deduction & how much pain and devastation Mikasa would be in upon receiving the awful truth from Eren himself. Even after pleading to Eren to let her share the burden of his sins, which as direct as it could have been to "I don't want to be so far from you. I want to be with you through both light & darkness inside of you. Please come back to us." Mikasa still believed that the previous Eren that she knew is still there somewhere, which is no longer the case.

The shock-induced tears in Mikasa's eyes - seeing her in pain, hurts Reiner too. He'd knew how heartbroken she would be.

In Ch.135, when everyone was on the verge of dying as they're losing the battle with the raised forms of past titan shifters, Mikasa reached her breaking point & Reiner felt helpless, because he was at his last limit & Mikasa was planning to make herself the primary target just to buy the rest a little bit more time.

There's this woman who's fighting towards an expected death in front of him - any man would be an idiot for not seeing how foolish yet selfless and brave this last female warrior of Paradis was. She's always been a fearless woman who has their backs and protects their fronts. He has never stopped respecting this woman. This might have been the starting point for that seed to have sprouted inside Reiner.

If Annie's timely rescue never came and they truly met their end there, the only regret Reiner has was he couldn't do anything else but watch this woman's final moments without being able to do anything to support her before his own ensuing end.

When Levi, Jean and Connie all collectively & firmly agrees that killing Eren is the only thing that stands between the world's survival, Reiner was silent the whole time. He believed he has no right to say anything, but he saw the vulnerable look on her face the moment Jean reiterated their ultimatum: "We need to kill Eren."

Reiner did what he does best: he took charge. When Reiner told her, "You go help Armin." He was indirectly telling her, "You do what you can. I will shoulder your burden with Jean. Let me be the strength for you to do what needs to be done." This was Reiner's way of telling her, he will carry her burden for her and shelter her from an unbearable pain. Just like how she told Eren much earlier in Paths. Reiner's indirectly telling Mikasa that she's important to him too.

This was the moment that the seed had sprouted within her heart. She realized that Reiner's communicating to her in the way only she would understand. How much she feels for Eren, Reiner feels for her in the same way because you can't give a reason why you care for or love someone. You just do. It just happened without signs. Annie, however, was able to catch that short but impactful interchange between them.

Post-Rumbling

They barely survive the last stand against Eren's final form but they did with Ymir's divine intervention in Humanity's New Dawn.

Reiner sustains extremely heavy injuries on his physical body. Mikasa is emotionally & psychologically affected by Eren's true death.

The remaining humanity struggles to rebuild from the ashes of destruction. It was beyond devastation. The world is almost completely annihilated but hope is a powerful energy. Hope persists.

Reiner sees her grieving - like a pair of wheels suspended in motion - trapped while the rest of the world moves around her. She refuses to eat, she barely sleeps but when she does, she would toss and turn around restlessly. Annie tells him in passing that when Mikasa sleeps, her body contorts and freezes simultaneously like she's in a lot of pain.

Seeing her drifting through the days like a soulless vessel pains him a lot. No one could humanly survived what she had to go through without serious ramifications towards her emotional and psychological state. Mikasa becomes withdrawn and sullen.

Yet, he retains his distance like he always does & watch silently from the sides as Annie, Armin & Jean tried to reach out to her to no avail. Reiner himself is haunted by his failed attempt to hold the Founder's original form down that, in a way, had forced Mikasa to do what needs to be done. He feels responsible that he couldn't prevent her from having to go through those painful yet pivotal moments of securing humanity's survival. The day the alliance managed to save the world, well, the world that she built for Eren inside her heart was destroyed in return.

One day, she mysteriously disappears without trace. A panicking Armin searches on his own but Annie tells Reiner that Mikasa's missing, nowhere to be found. Reiner and Armin later found her at the crater where Eren's last resting place had been. The exact same location where she had to slay him with her own two blades.

Mikasa says that she just feels lost and empty. Like there's a huge dark void inside her body that she can't escape from. She just sits there amongst the dust and debris, staring blankly at a makeshift, unmarked grave. She confides that she's terrified of falling asleep because she sees Eren's face in her nightmares.

Armin wants to console her but Annie holds him back as she notices Reiner already making his way forward and settles himself next to her. Armin understands what Annie was trying to do.

Reiner only tells Mikasa, "You don't have to do this alone...Lean on us." He offers his hand, despite knowing she wouldn't even touch him. "When you feel that you can no longer breathe, I'll breathe for you. If you feel like you're drifting, I will hold you."

It takes her a while but she accepts his hand and he holds it tight in his. Reassuring her that he is here to stay for as long as she needs him to be.

Little either of them know that it would possibly be forever.

It is Annie who helps to bridge these two together with Armin's help.

Ever since the day they talked, Mikasa slowly finds herself regaining an ounce of strength. Reiner talks a lot to her and offers his silent company as they go for walks together so she does not feel alone.

Reiner makes sure that he'll check in with Mikasa from time to time when he's not supporting the remaining forces with rebuilding, too frequent not to be noticed by everyone close to them in the survivor's settlement. However, none of them questions him about it. It is an understood, unspoken notion that Reiner cares a lot about Mikasa, and her for him eventhough she's being subtle about it. Armin could see Mikasa's eyes lit up whenever Reiner is nearby.

Mikasa shares a living space with Annie and Pieck. When her night terrors get too much that Mikasa thrashes around, screaming in pain despite being in a deep sleep, the two former shifters know that they couldn't possibly restrain the Ackerman girl physically on their own. They called for Armin, Jean and Reiner for help. When Armin and Jean hesitate to hold her down, it is Reiner who holds her tight even when Mikasa's unconsciously trying to struggle against him. They could see Reiner's face holding back his own physical pain from fighting against the immense resistance coming from her. But he'd never released his hold until she eventually wakes up and calms down. He stayed with her until the break of dawn.

After that night, however, Reiner seems to be pulling himself away from Mikasa as he couldn't get over his guilt and his helplessnesss as he also didn't want Mikasa to think that he's trying to take advantage of her vulnerability. The problem is, when he avoids Mikasa, she reverts back to the darkness she's slowly overcoming with Reiner's help and he's becoming miserable himself.

This frustrates Armin, Annie, Jean, Levi and even Pieck because it was fairly obvious to everyone but the two people in question that both Reiner and Mikasa are self-sabotaging and self-punishing themselves from pursuing something more than friendship despite their beating hearts calling out for each other.

Mikasa feels she's betraying her memories of Eren and she's afraid of moving on lest she would forget about him. Reiner feels he has no right to offer Mikasa anything more than friendship because she deserves someone better than him.

Mother's Intuition

Reiner's mother, Karina, finds herself naturally drawn to this young woman who seems to have her son's attention, even when he's trying very hard not to be obvious about it. She catches Reiner staring (longingly, she dare say) at the female warrior of Paradis from afar.

Apart from Mr. Leonhardt's daughter, she too, helps to bring her son and Mikasa closer. Karina has witnessed this woman's bravery and have heard from both Gabi and Reiner of her selflessness when she had saved both her son and her niece's lives. Through Reiner's story, Karina sympathizes with the pain this young woman is going through.

Reiner tells her that he feels helpless that he isn't able to help Mikasa and that she hasn't been eating well. Therefore, Karina brings her homemade meal and visits the young woman, wanting to get to know her better. Mikasa doesn't want to be impolite and relents to having the sudden company.

However, the moment Karina holds her hands to offer her comfort, Mikasa breaks down. She had lost 3 mothers/maternal figures in her life: her own, Carla & Hange. For some odd reason, she feels grateful to have an opportunity to be held by a mother again, even if it wasn't her own.

Karina finds herself growing fond of this young woman and deep inside believes that Mikasa and her son are meant for each other.

It is Karina who advises Reiner to fight for his own happiness and her mother's intuition tells her that his feelings isn't as one-sided as he thinks. Karina urges her son to tell Mikasa how he really feels and after all the years of fighting wars for Marley, Reiner needs to fight one last war: the one within his own heart and to win the heart of the one woman who had conquered his.

However, the relief entourage that arrives from Hizuru, led by Kiyomi Azumabito prevents him from telling Mikasa how he truly feels. He knows that she is destined to become the new empress of Hizuru and that her future would be brighter without him being in her way.

Mikasa tells him of her decision to ascend the imperial throne and Reiner feigns happiness for her decision, reassuring her that she will make a great empress and that she would have a better future there. Mikasa takes Reiner's words as him indirectly telling her to move on with her life without him in it.

Reluctantly, Mikasa leaves for Hizuru. Karina is upset that her son is still sacrificing himself & his own feelings even after being relieved of his Titan powers and its curse.

Karina tells him, "You've lived your life for me and for our family, Reiner. Now it's time for you to live for yourself."

Reiner thinks he's lost the only chance he still has left as Mikasa is already en route to the East Sea country. It is Armin who tells him that the Azumabito's ship is still docked at the nearest harbor because Armin has suspicions that Reiner will change his mind.

When Reiner, Armin, Jean and Annie reach the harbor, the sun is almost setting and Reiner finally revives his dwindling courage to tell her how he truly feels about her and he would like to remain by her side if she'd allow it.

Kiyomi forewarns Reiner that if he is serious about her kin, then he would have to sacrifice his newly-found freedom from being a soldier and titan shifter to become prince consort to their new imperial monarch.

Reiner only says, "I am as good as dead without Mikasa and my freedom means nothing if I'm spending the rest of my life without her."

In the sunset of the New World built from ashes, the two young loves finally seize the courage to pledge their hearts to one another with a kiss; the first of the many in their life together, which is only beginning.

*Continues in Pt. II

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Thank you once again for the beautiful Ask! I truly enjoyed working on this ❤ Also, please don't ever feel that you need to apologize to another ESL speaker/writer for the language. We're always learning 💖 Take care! xoxo

#ReiKasa #ReiKasa asks #ReiKasa headcanons #ReiKasa reimagines #ReiKasaverse #ReiKasa canonverse au #reiner x mikasa #reiner braun #mikasa ackerman #snk headcanons #snk reimagines #aot headcanons #post rumbling au #post-rumbling AU

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vannahfanfics · 3 years ago

Text

Doting

Category: General Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Eri, Shota Aizawa, Toshinori Yagi

Hey, everyone! I am super excited to present my story for the EraserMight Mini-Bang! I had two wonderful partners for this event, Cam and apricot, and you can find their arts here and here!

Shota pushed himself away from his desk with a groan, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his palms. The joints of his fingers ached from hours of tapping away at a keyboard, yet Shota still had quite a ways to go before he finished constructing the term’s report on his class’ progress for the administration. There was a lot to discuss, especially with the persistent villain activity inadvertently causing them to show explosive growth, and this report would be a verifiable thesis by the time that the teacher finished. However, despite the pain of the assignment, Shota could not help but feel proud that his students were displaying such advancement that he could fill pages upon pages with praise for them.

Right as he gathered the will to get back to work, he heard the pitter-patter of little feet. His lips immediately curled into a smile, partly because of the adorable sound and partly because of the realization that he wouldn’t be getting back to work anytime soon. He swiveled in the desk chair just as Eri came trotting through the door, her long silvery-white hair swishing around her knees and the stuffed bunny that Nemuri had bought for her not too long ago clutched in her hand. She was dressed in a pair of worn blue overalls with a pink-and-white spotted shirt underneath, complete with some cute pink-and-white sneakers. She did look very cute, so Shota mentally thanked Nemuri for her fashion sense.

“Eraserhead!” the girl cried, running right up to him to grip his knee with sparkling red eyes. Using the other arm, she hugged the bunny to her chest; its fur was beginning to fray and become tinged with dirt, and Shota would have to pry it out of her arms to throw it in the wash soon. I’m beginning to think like a doting parent, he thought in amusement. He supposed someone had to for the little girl. He leaned forward as she gazed up at him expectantly. “Eraserhead, did you forget? You’re supposed to take me to the park today!”

Oh shit. Shota had forgotten. Still, he wasn’t going to let Eri know that.

“Of course not,” he said smoothly, straightening up and ruffling her hair affectionately. The edges of Eri’s smile curled up happily as his large, calloused hand weaved through the silky silvery-white strands. “I was just finishing up some schoolwork. Did you bring the stuff to do your hair?”

Eri nodded and dug into the pockets of her overalls to reveal a small brush and a collection of barrettes and ponytails. She dropped them onto the computer desk while Shota stood from his chair, stretching his arms above his head and bending back slightly. He groaned in satisfaction as his vertebrae popped in succession, alleviating the stiff pain that had made a home in his spine. “All right. Let’s get Midnight so she can… Oh.” His voice faltered as he looked around the teacher’s lounge only to find that it was empty aside from himself and the child. A spike of panic gushed through his blood vessels, filling him with cold dread.

“Um… Eraserhead, Miss Midnight isn’t here, and neither is Mister Mic. Who’s gonna do my hair?” Eri asked while spinning a lock of her hair around her tiny index finger. Shota gulped, wracking his brain frantically. He always recruited Nemuri or Hizashi to style the child’s hair; Shota didn’t possess the delicateness for that. They’d obviously headed home while he was busy typing up his report, and they wouldn’t appreciate being dragged all the way back just to do Eri’s hair. He sucked in a breath through his nose, resigning himself to the task ahead of him.

Then he flopped back down on the chair and patted his thigh as an indication for Eri to climb into his lap.

“I am.”

Eri scrunched her eyes suspiciously, looking very perturbed by the development. Still, she obediently moved to clamber into his lap. She continued to clutch the bunny, so she only had one hand to grip the arm of the chair and try to haul herself up. After a few times of slipping back down, Shota just grabbed her underneath her armpits and pulled her up to settle him on his lap. She settled herself in, sitting the bunny on her lap and smoothing down its ears.

“I’m gonna do Bunny’s hair, then,” she chirped while grabbing one of the barrettes to clip it to the tuft of white fur atop the stuffed animal’s head. Shota chuckled— she really was cute— but all the adorableness in the world wasn’t going to save him from the daunting trial before him. While Eri busied herself with using her fingers to comb through the stuffed bunny’s fur, Shota’s hands hovered over her mane of silvery hair, not even sure where to begin.

A brush. A brush is a good start, he decided. Shota picked up the brush and began teasing it through Eri’s hair, careful not to tug too hard and hurt her while easing out the knots. Eri hummed and kicked her heels against the computer chair as she played with her bunny, and he was grateful that he could at least do that right. Eventually, though, the brush glided seamlessly through the silky strands, and Shota couldn’t put off the inevitable forever.

He awkwardly bunched up a chunk of her hair and secured it with a ponytail, then let it go. It flopped loosely against her head with a few strands sticking out at odd angles.

He tugged it free with a heavy sigh, running his other hand over his eyes. This is going to be harder than I thought.

“Eraserhead? You’re here awfully late,” a voice piped up suddenly.

Shota looked over the walls of his cubby to see Toshinori strolling in, his coat draped over his skinny arm. When Eri heard his voice, she sat up on Shota’s legs to crane her head over the cubby wall and wave happily.

“Hello, Mister All Might!”

“Why, hello there, Eri. You look lovely today,” the teacher smiled as he walked around the desks to greet her. Giggling, Eri flopped back down on Shota’s lap and held up her bunny, which had several barrettes stuck in the tuft of cottony fur on its head. “Oh, Mr. Bunny looks great today, too. Did you do his hair?” he asked, squatting down to inspect the stuffed animal appraisingly.

“Yeah! Eraserhead is supposed to be doing my hair, but he seems to be having trouble.”

Shota covered his face with a hand as it turned bright pink with embarrassment. Kids really had no filter. Toshinori chuckled and straightened up, giving Shota a sympathetic look.

“Well, cut him some slack. I’m sure he just wants to make sure it looks extra perfect.”

Damn, he’s really good with kids. He knows the perfect things to say, Shota marveled, an eyebrow inching up his head as a plan hatched in his mind. Toshinori didn’t have children— at least not that Shota knew of— but perhaps the man had a little bit more experience in the complex art of doing little girls’ hair. Toshinori seemed to sense Shota’s great discomfort with the situation, as he shuffled around to the side of the chair to survey the barrettes and clips littering the desk.

“Eraserhead, would you like some help?”

“Oh, God, yes,” Shota blurted immediately, too overwhelmed with relief to maintain some sense of dignity.

Toshinori chuckled and retrieved the brush, leaning over Shota’s shoulder while he began brushing Eri’s hair to gather it into one big hand.

“I can’t say I’m familiar with things like this, but it can’t hurt to try,” he smiled. “How about we try some pigtails, Eri?”

“Okay!”

Shota reclined in the chair, melting with relief as he began to think that his dilemma may just be solved.

However, it soon became clear that Toshinori was about as familiar with doing little girls’ hair as Shota. When he stepped back, one of the pigtails was much bigger than the other, and the left one sat at least two inches lower than the right. Toshinori smiled sheepishly when Eri tugged at the skinny pigtail, then looked at him doubtfully.

“Um… I don’t think this is right…”

“I’m sorry,” Toshinori groaned, his shoulders falling as he tipped back his head in defeat. “It seems that there is more nuance to this than I realized…” Sighing, Shota slipped the ponytails out of her hair, letting the waves of silver hair fall loose for them to start over.

“All right. It’s time to pull out the big guns,” Shota decided. He grabbed his phone to pull up the ultimate source of information on the Internet— YouTube. Many young fathers and mothers posted tutorials on doing their daughters’ hair for those who were new to the game. Shota was more than willing to swallow his pride and peruse the videos rather than continue embarrassing himself. He picked a promising video and propped it up, and he and Toshinori watched the tutorial with great interest. The man pulled his daughter’s hair into perfect pigtails with almost frightening ease, talking through it step-by-step.

“Well, he certainly doesn’t make it sound hard,” Toshinori frowned and looked back to Eri’s mane of silvery-white hair. His doubtful look certainly didn’t inspire much confidence.

After taking a deep breath, Shota restarted the video and tried to replicate the father’s actions. It turned out better than Toshinori’s attempt, but the pigtails were still a little uneven and lopsided. Eri looked back at him when he pulled her hair free again, looking perturbed.

“Eraserhead, it’s okay…. You don’t have to do my hair. We can just go to the park…”

“No. You said you wanted your hair done, so I’m going to do it,” Shota asserted firmly and started the video over again. It was really less about making Eri happy and more that he was frustrated he couldn’t do something so simple as pigtails. His heart went out to all the single fathers out there bungling through the same struggle. Eri turned back around, pouting a little, but Shota was determined.

This time, he and Toshinori did one side each.

“Did… Did we do it?” Toshinori asked hesitantly as Eri shook her head back and forth slightly. Her pigtails swished over her shoulders; they sure looked even, and the ponytails didn’t slip free with her movements.

“I think so,” Shota said with relief, sinking into the chair. He picked up two pink flower barrettes and clipped them onto the ponytails, and Eri reached up to touch the smooth plastic with her fingertips.

“Well, Eri? Did we do a good job this time?” he said as he pulled up his cellphone camera and allowed her to look at her reflection. She grabbed the phone with her small hands to inspect herself, and Shota felt his heart flutter with happiness when she beamed wide in the screen.

“Yeah! It looks great!” she nodded. “Can we all take a picture together?”

“Sure.” They adjusted themselves so they could all fit in the frame, with Shota’s arm slung around Eri’s waist and Toshinori over his shoulder, smiling shyly and throwing up a peace sign. Eri was smiling hugely, her eyes scrunched up with delight. She immediately grabbed at the phone to look as the shutter sounded, squealing happily at the photograph. Shota stroked one of her pigtails as she kicked her feet excitedly.

“Thanks, Eraserhead, Mister All Might! I love it,” Eri said, then gave Shota his phone back. She slid down from the chair, clutching her bunny to her chest, and then looked up at Shota hopefully. “Can we go to the park now?”

“Yes, yes,” Shota said, patting his legs before rising from the chair. He winced, the stiffness from his hours in the chair returning with a vengeance. He rubbed his sore back muscles with a groan, then looked at Toshinori with a wan smile. “Thanks for your help.”

“Oh, of course!” Toshinori replied, waving his hands submissively. He then smiled down at Eri and flashed her a wink. “I couldn’t leave a lady in such distress, after all.” Eri giggled, hugging her rabbit, and then wiggled shyly.

“Mister All Might, would you like to go to the park with us, too?”

Toshinori pretended to think about it for a second, putting his hand on his chin and looking up at the ceiling. Eri frowned at his silence, her lips beginning to poke out into a pout. He then grinned widely.

“Of course! It’s a wonderful day. In fact, I think I just might have enough money for ice cream afterward…”

“Yay! Did you hear that, Eraserhead? Ice cream!” she squealed delightedly. She spun on her toes, holding her bunny over her head, before sprinting out of the room demanding, “Come on, come on!” Shota chuckled at her instantaneous burst of energy and shook his head at Toshinori.

“Wow. She’s going to end up spoiled if she starts to hang out with you more.”

“I can’t help it. Little kids are my ultimate weakness,” the blond laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. He smiled fondly, watching as Eri jumped back into the doorframe to beg for them to hurry up. “Besides, after what she’s been through… Doesn’t she deserve to be?”

“Yeah,” Shota nodded and slipped his hands in his pockets. “She really does.”

He supposed he had better learn how to do her hair soon, for he had a feeling he’d be taking more trips to the park as time went on. He really was starting to think like a doting parent, but that was okay. That was no less than what Eri deserved.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#erasermight #shota aizawa #aizawa shota #toshinori yagi #yagi toshinori #eri #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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nightingiall · 4 years ago

Text

things i love about you: our rituals

a post-little do you know drabble series // story page

happy december! today marks six (!!!!!!) years since i started the december drabbles, which means it’s moniall’s anniversary! to commemorate the occasion, here’s a special lil something. also, if you want to relive my bad 2014 writing the drabbles that started it all, i will finally be posting them on wattpad. enjoy!

There used to be a time Mona hated the cold.

She couldn’t handle it. It made her feel like all her blood vessels had simply seized, wound up so tightly that she needed to find every single bit of warmth to bury herself under in order to feel like she could function again.

As she watched the tiny flurries of white drift from the sky to delicately blanket the ground in a layer of snow, she smiled to herself, remembering the first time they were here at their little cabin. It was the beginning of so much, of friendship, of love, of rituals they could seek solace in year after year. Four bedrooms, a generously sized dining room, and a roaring fireplace had somehow transformed from a simple husk of wood to a safe place, a home away from home, filled with laughter and jokes no one else would understand.

The snow picked up slightly, very quickly covering the driveway in white, and she realized that she no longer minded the cold. Not when she had this, a winter cabin filled with all the people she loved. There were even several new additions to the family, one of whom now pawed happily at her feet. She scooped the little fluffball into her arms, cradling it like a small child. “Hi, baby,” she cooed, holding the puppy up to see out the window. “Have you ever seen snow before?”

They certainly hadn’t gotten any in the city. And this sweet little pup was only a baby. Mona figured snow must be a new concept to her. She wondered if she’d like to trot around in the white slush tomorrow morning.

Niall had gotten the puppy as a surprise.

They’d arrived back from San Francisco for only a week before it happened. He had it all planned out. It was a Sunday afternoon. They’d devoured their dinner, a bottle of wine popped open, and the radio was turned to a blues station. Mona was washing up their plates in the sink when Niall had slinked up behind her, hands curled easily around her hips as he pressed his warm lips to her shoulder. “I got something for us,” he’d murmured into her hair, his voice that raspy sort of sweetness he took up when he was up to something.

She hummed, his voice a delicious vibrato down her spine. “What?”

When she’d placed the last plate in the dish rack and dried her hands on a towel, he spun her around, hands still a warm weight on her skin. The sun had already started to slink down the horizon, catching on adjacent buildings and throwing warm golden light into their apartment through the kitchen window. Niall’s eyes glimmered with it, bright blue meshing with rich gold sunlight. He was grinning widely at her in that irresistible way of his, and she let herself get whisked along with his excitement. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Okay,” she laughed, because he’d started to tug her towards the front entrance, just as the doorbell chimed. “But what is it.”

He instructed her to open the door and she eyed him suspiciously. “I promise you’re going to adore it!”

With an exasperated sigh, she did as she was told, fingers trembling slightly in anticipation. Waiting outside the door in a chestnut brown wicker basket lined with a soft white fleece blanket was the tiny little pup. Its fur matched the basket, a curly, chocolaty brown, and it was adorably nestled into itself as it slumbered peacefully.

Mona couldn’t help the way she had gasped, hands over her mouth in pure shock. “Is it ours?”

Niall was already smiling when she looked at him. “Yep. All ours.”

The excitement rushed through her like a tsunami, like champagne bubbles gushing when the bottle is opened. She almost wanted to scream but settled for a squeal instead, hopping slightly on her toes before just jumping into Niall’s arms. He laughed as she thanked him profusely, holding her close. She’d been planting the idea of getting a puppy for ages and she honestly didn’t even think he’d been considering it.

As they brought the little ball of cuteness inside, he explained that Duncan’s neighbor’s labradoodle had given birth. They’d taken them all to the vet to get checked and had been looking to give some of them away. This one was female. Like magic, “A Sunday Kind of Love” played softly on the radio, and they decided to name their newest addition to the family Etta.

“What’re you doing?” Niall was asking her now, where she was still standing in front of the window, watching the snow cover the earth.

She shrugged, still cradling the pup. “Etta’s never seen snow.”

He laughed as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe, cheeks flushed with that gorgeous pink that came from gut-busting laughter and too much whiskey. Behind him, the living room was quiet. Everyone else had probably ambled up to bed. She didn’t particularly care. It meant she got this moment all to herself, watching Niall stand there, looking soft and warm in his gray sweats and ugly Christmas sweater. She let Etta run off as she took him in, the light behind him fanning out around his head like a halo, blue eyes watching her with the world of love.

She crossed her arms as she leaned back against the countertop on the far side of the kitchen. “Did you stand there on purpose?”

He was grinning wildly, hands shoved into his pockets. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Really?” She raised a brow. “So you don’t always stand under that very doorframe every year just to get a mistletoe kiss?”

He looked up, feigning shock at the unmistakable plant dangling from the wood. “Mistletoe? I didn’t even notice it there.”

A laugh bubbled out of her, and she couldn’t help herself. She was drawn to him as always, feet pulling her towards him until she was close enough to wrap her arms around his waist, close enough to graze the corner of his mouth with her lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she murmured, blood rushing at the way his breath audibly caught in his throat, his hands pressing hard into her hips. “You’ll be scamming me into these mistletoe kisses until you’re old and wrinkly.”

A grunt sounded from deep in his throat when she pressed closer, still not meeting his lips. “If the implication is that you’ll be the one to kiss me under the mistletoe when I’m old and wrinkly then yes I damn will.”

When she finally let him catch her lips with his, it was like the world fell away. Big bursts of color flashed behind her closed eyelids as he kissed her, slow and searing, arms wrapping around her waist tightly until her feet were swept right off the ground when he straightened. She giggled into his mouth when he started walking towards the living room, her feet dangling helplessly until he finally put her down in front of the couch.

“Home Alone is on,” he said breathlessly, still stealing short kisses on any bits of skin he could find. “Wanna watch?”

She huffed on a laugh. “Are you sure we’ll just watch?”

At this, he laughed too, pulling away completely. “Dunno if I can make that promise, my darlin’,” he teased, sending her a wink before retrieving a basket that was hidden under the dining table. It was only now that Mona noticed he’d moved the coffee table, spreading a sheet in the space between the couch and TV.

“What’s all this?” she asked, taken by surprise.

Niall shrugged, placing the basket down on the sheet and sitting down, tugging on her hand to do the same. “Just…something.”

Inside the basket was a loaf of the homemade bread they’d made today—still a bit warm in its paper bag—cartons of butter and jellies, a thermos, and a platter of chocolate chip cookies. Apparently, he’d put it all together when no one was watching. Her heart surged with affection for all the thought he put into everything.

They lounged about, ripping pieces of bread and pairing it with butter or jelly, sipping on hot chocolate, which was what was in the thermos. They alternated between watching the movie and watching Etta and Fudge, Harlow’s cat, prod at each other. Etta just wanted to be a friend to Fudge, who was not having it, which was quite amusing.

By the time they finished the bread, they didn’t have much room for the cookies, so they split one as they curled into each other, lounging back against the couch, laughing along to the movie. “I love you,” she murmured to him eventually, pressing a kiss to his chin because she felt so full with emotion, so much that she felt like she might just burst. They were here, in the cabin, where it all began. So much was different. And everything was just right.

Which was why, in hindsight, she probably should have expected it. The circumstances were just right, everything falling into place perfectly. She should have expected it, but she didn’t.

Because when she placed a half-asleep Etta into her makeshift bed and turned around, Niall kneeling on one knee, hands outstretched, holding a ring box, was not a sight she saw coming. Her heart stopped for a moment, eyes widened in complete shock. He hadn’t even said anything yet and she already thought she might cry.

“Mona,” he started, clearly fighting back a slew of emotions himself, “Erm, I’ll be honest, I had a whole speech planned, but my brain has just gone completely blank.” They both laughed thickly. Mona stepped closer. “That happens sometimes anyway, when it comes to you. Sometimes you look at me and I forget my own name. In fact, the first time you smiled at me, I tripped on a branch. Remember?”

She nodded, unable to form words at the moment. She remembered. It was college orientation. She had hardly known that in a few months, she’d fall in love with this boy in a log cabin and her life would change forever.

Niall took a deep breath. “The point is, I am head over heels in love with you. Everything just makes sense with you, and I have never met anyone who is perfect for me in every single way.” An inadvertent sob left her lips, just as she noticed his voice wavering. “I want to spend forever with you, doing everything and nothing, though good days and bad days. I love you so fucking much. And it would be the greatest honor of my life to be your husband.” He smiled, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “So, what d’you say…will you marry me?”

Mona sobbed through her laughter, kneeling on the ground in front of him, caressing his face in her hands and swiping away the tears that managed to slip through his lashline. “Yes. Yes, I would love nothing more. Yes yes yes.” Niall laughed and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight and slipping the ring onto her finger at the same time. “I love you,” she cried into the curve of his shoulder, completely overwhelmed and yet completely at peace. All she wanted was to spend her whole life with her wonderful, beautiful sunshine boy.

It wasn’t until they both calmed down a bit that she got a good look at the ring. And even through her fuzzy eyesight, blurred by her tears, she recognized that opal stone, surrounded by tiny diamonds, as the one her mother wore for years. She had always admired it when she was a kid, always thought it was a timeless piece of jewelry.

She glanced up at him. “Is this…”

“Yeah.” He trailed a finger over the stone, holding her fingers delicately in his.

She was starting to cry again. “Mom gave it to you?”

He brushed away some of her hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. “Yeah. She said you like it, having something your dad picked out.”

Her eyes welled with tears as she hiccupped slightly in her surprise. Of course. Because along with being her mom’s, opal was also her dad’s birthstone. There was a piece of him inside of this ring and she now had the privilege of carrying it around forever. Niall thumbed away her tears and she looked at him, her heart fit to bursting as she wrapped her arms around him again, her movements so intense that he fell backwards against the sheet.

Their quiet laughter filled the room, and when she pulled back, his face was filled with such adoration, such reverence, that she found herself leaning forward to kiss him tenderly. His love spilled from his lips and into her soul. He filled her with sunshine and loved her unconditionally. Sweet, wonderful Niall. He was hers.

All hers.

Mona was flipping a pancake when Niall strolled into the kitchen, all soft smiles and sleepy eyes and messy bedroom hair. He huffed out a laugh at the sight of her, probably because of what she was wearing. His ugly Christmas sweater from the night before.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbled, as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, fingers trailing on the hem of the sweater, grazing her skin underneath. “How does this look better on you than it ever did on me?”

She giggled at his words. She felt as though she were on cloud nine, woke up with a smile and couldn’t seem to shake it. Every so often, she’d catch a glimpse of the ring on her left hand and grin wildly to herself, sometimes wondering if she’d simply dreamt the whole night up.

But, no, she hadn’t. Because Niall was sidled up to her, chest pressed against her back as he pressed slow and hot kisses all the way up the side of her neck and down her jawline. “Good mornin’, fiancée,” he murmured, smiling wide against her skin.

She flipped her last pancake onto the platter and turned the skillet off, turning towards him to wrap her arms across his shoulders. “Good morning, future husband,” she replied, melting right into him as he kissed her slow and deep, goosebumps rippling across her skin at the words. It all felt a bit surreal.

He hummed, pressing her against the fridge, skimming his tongue along her lower lip. “I love the sound of that.”

They kept the news from their friends for a whole day. There was something fun and whimsical about it, going about their day doing mundane things with everyone, like eating breakfast or bringing Etta out into the snow for the first time, catching knowing looks from each other because no one else knew what had happened the night before. It was nice to be able to soak it all in, to enjoy it for themselves for a while, without anyone knowing.

Finally, on Christmas morning, as everyone lounged about on the couch, opening presents, they spilled. Niall was the one to announce it, telling everyone that they had news to share and pretending to be somber and melancholy. Harlow, Zayn, Liam, and Harry all froze hilariously when they caught the sudden shift in the mood, all of them sitting down and eyeing Niall and Mona carefully.

Harry was the one to ask what was wrong, and he looked so concerned that Mona couldn’t help the way the laughter just bubbled out of her. She looked at Niall, who’d started to laugh too, before holding up her left hand, the opal gem catching the light and glittering.

“We’re getting married!” they said simultaneously, and everyone was stunned into a few moments of silence before erupting into a deafening round of cheers. Harlow started crying as she hugged Mona tightly, and even the boys started tearing up a bit.

Perhaps it had been a long time coming. But it didn’t matter.

They were here now, endlessly overjoyed, popping open a bottle of champagne to celebrate.

They were here now, and they had the rest of their lives to go.

#six years tho....literally what am i still doing on this website 😂#it's been a wild ride #things i love about you #1dff #writings #as i'm formatting this black and white played on a movie trailer and i think it's a sign LOL #bc this whole series started bc of that song #god it feels like so long ago but it's only been a few months...what a year #will i ever stop rambling in the tags #the answer is no asdjfl #also two drabbles in a day!! yay me!

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a-little-dreamer-s-world · 4 years ago

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A Singing Loneliness Part 3

Taglist: @lefaystrent @teacupfulofstarshine @theunoriginaldaisy @demigodnamedathena @supreme-succ-overlord @octopushugs @i-will-physically-fight-you @ijustreallylovesanderssides @theobsessor1 @paperghastly @prinxietyforlifefightmeiswear @virgilisaneternalmood @ever-after-aaa @myrandomfandoms12

Hello, everyone! Probably didn’t expect to see this come to the light of day, huh? I’m so sorry this came out so long after the first two parts, and the bad part is that there’s one more part to go. But!! Hopefully, I’ll be able to take my stories from here and add them to my Ao3 account (which you can find here!)

Anyways, I hope y’all can enjoy~!

Warnings?: Eventual LAMP; panic, injury mention

Roman hissed lowly as he stared up towards the surface, Patton next to him trying to wipe the rest of the ink out of Logan’s eyes. The water was starting to pick up, growing more unsettled as the storm came ever closer.

Roman huffed as he whirled around, his glare landing on his tiny pod. “How could he have let this happen to you?”

“I don’t think he meant to,” Patton said, trying to calm him down. Anything else he could have said died on his lips as Roman met his eyes, looking away as he finished brushing his thumb away from Logan’s eyes.

“It doesn’t matter if he’d meant to or not! It was his fault that it happened and he should have done something to help instead of letting him swim loose and almost crash into the reef.” Roman’s form circled around them as he continued, “Not only that, but i told you both we should have kept going, and you didn’t listen! Now Logan’s hurt!”

“Roman, I’m not hurt, I promise,” Logan finally spoke up, making the red merman pause. He thought for a moment that he might be able to listen to reason, but then his restlessness seemed to increase as he shook his head.

“No! It’s my job to keep you two safe, and I couldn’t protect you. Maybe you didn’t get hurt this time, but what would have happened if you didn’t veer from the reef, or if all that ink actually damaged your eyes?” The merman had screwed his eyes shut, his hands reaching up to grasp at his hair.

“Ro...” Patton said softly, taking care to put his hand on Roman’s arm to try and comfort him. His face fell when he jerked away.

Roman suddenly lifted his face towards the distance where they had found the sunken ship, his eyes growing hard and fierce. “I’m going to make him sorry,” he said lowly, whipping his tail forward as he made his way towards the ship.

He felt hands on him and he whirled around, hissing. Logan and Patton both looked at him with anxiousness, Logan beginning, “Roman, think about what you’re doing: it wasn’t his fault, and I’m—”

“Stay here,” Roman practically hissed out. He didn’t want to be so aggressive towards his two loves, but he had his duty as their protector to uphold, and he wasn’t even going to let them get in the way of that. With that, he didn’t look back as he zeroed in on the shipwreck. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he got there, but he knew one thing: that stranger needed to atone for his offenses.

Patton and Logan shared a look as they let Roman go ahead of them before they followed at a distance. If he thought they would let him go in by himself when he was this upset, then he must not have known them as well as he thought.

------------------------

Virgil sighed as he pulled up the last of the large stones he managed to collect, inspecting his pile to see if he would need any more.

He always liked to cover up the little hole in the wall where he slept with stones, just in case the rushing water made its way inside and tore his nest to pieces. He figured with the state of the water now, he had a little bit of time to try and hunt for something to eat before he would have to hunker down for the night.

He usually would have caught a crab so he could start eating it now and then finish it once he had his barricade, but after the whole incident earlier with Logan, he wasn’t in the mood for crustacean. A flash of silver passed by the corner of his vision, and he figured a normal fish would do just fine.

He quickly moved into a corner to begin hiding, holding still once he was in position to wait on his next meal. Fish were trickier; they moved swiftly and could easily slip out of the many crevices in the ship that even he couldn’t get past.

As the fish slipped past his grabbing tentacle, he decided he might as well change tactics and, if he failed, he wouldn’t mind skipping a meal in favor of staying safe from the storm. He pushed away from the wall as fast as he could, propelling himself forward as he reached out his fingers to nab at its tail fin.

He grinned in triumph as he almost had it, but he froze when he heard a distant cry. What made his blood want to grow cold was not because it was a sound of pain or anguish; no, this was a type of battle-cry, full of anger and vengeance.

He caught a glance at an incoming red shape and knew it was the Red Merman. Virgil panicked (he can’t see me he can’t see me he can’t see me—), darting back inside in a feeble hope that he hadn’t seen him, that maybe that cry wasn’t meant for him. But who was he kidding? There was no way it wasn’t for him!

Virgil found himself back towards his nesting spot to try and get to safety, squirming his way inside and staying as quiet as he could.

A little voice in the back of his mind whispered to him, little hopes that maybe he could just talk to him, maybe the other mermen will stop to listen and start to like him, maybe—

“Where are you, you hagfish! How dare you hurt my pod!” the thunder from above felt like it was drowned out by the voice of the angry merman. Virgil’s tentacles quivered at the anger, pushing himself backwards to try and make himself even smaller.

For once, he couldn’t hear anything outside of his hole, the pounding of his main heart in his ears being the only thing he really could hear. He happened to look down at himself to find that he had turned completely pale with fear coursing through his veins.

“You can’t hide forever,” Red’s voice hissed nearby, close enough for Virgil to realize that he had gone through the hole in the floor and was now in the room where his hideaway was. He looked around for an escape, but then he remembered something: Red would be too big! He wouldn’t be able to get inside, not unless he was somehow as flexible as Virgil was.

For once, he was thankful that he wasn’t like anyone else.

That flash of appreciation went away when the walls shuddered with the impact of a body slamming into the entrance. Panic set in even further when the rest of the ship seemed to groan. What was he thinking?! The thing might collapse on them if he kept it up!

It only took a moment and another impact from the merman outside for Virgil to make up his mind, rushing forward to push out the stones and revealing himself. “Stop!”

Time seemed to stand still as the two merfolk stared at each other, and Virgil felt his heart stammer. The Red Merman was as beautiful as the other two mermen he had met within the last couple of days. His crimson tail was patterned throughout with splashes of white and gold. His face was somewhere between the other two, not quite soft like Patton and not sharp like Logan. His eyes were a brilliant green, though they were darkened in their anger. He looked strong, much stronger than him. For a brief moment, Virgil felt his hand reach forward, though he didn’t know what he was thinking he could do.

But that was when the Red Merman lunged right for him.

------------------------

Roman wasn’t sure what kind of merman he expected to appear out of the smaller hole, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Admittedly, he was handsome, with dark eyes that seemed to peer into him. Unlike the other two accounts he had on his appearance, however, there were no purple scales to cover his sickly white face and arms, nor was there a tail at all.

The sight of eight tentacles on the other male’s lower half made memories flash in his mind of another merman entirely, one that made his rage boil over as all he could see was the face of another octopi entirely.

He didn’t think anymore as he lunged forward, bellowing as he did. His hands went forward, slamming against the male’s chest and the other going for his throat. The force of his attack pushed them both forward, slamming once more into the wood behind that… that thing.

Roman hissed threateningly as he gripped more around his throat, baring his sharp teeth. “You’re going to pay for hurting him,” he seethed, unaware of how much more his surroundings seemed to shudder. He felt the male grasp at his throat to try and pry it off, his tentacles moving about and trying to wrap around any part of him.

“Wait!” He croaked out, but froze when a loud groan sounded out around them both. Roman looked up as he saw cracks start to appear in the wood above, his eyes widening as creaking and cracking filled the room. A large piece of wood broke free, coming down swiftly above them.

He hadn’t realized his grip had loosened, suddenly feeling the male he had pinned down freeing himself and now grabbing at him instead. He was too stunned to fight back, feeling tentacles along with his arms push him back much more quickly. Once he was aware, he yelled out, feeling even more angry that the other male had waited until he was distracted to attack, but the yell was cut short when he felt him let go.

There was a loud cracking sound as the ship started to collapse, and Roman realized he was now in the open water, not within the hull of the vessel at all. He backtailed from the collapsing wreckage, watching as it came down. It was around that time he felt arms around him, and he started to fight them off, ready to go after the weird male again.

“Ro!” A familiar voice said next to him, stopping him in his tracks as he realized that the hands on him belonged to Patton, the voice coming from Logan. He looked at them both in surprise, feeling arms wrap around his shoulders.

“We saw what happened!” Patton pulled away from him with worried eyes. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yes, of course I’m fine,” Roman said, looking between his two loves.

“What about the loner?” Logan said, not missing how Roman frowned at the question. “Did he make it out?”

“Why does it matter?” He argued, feeling confused and still angry. “He attacked me, so ser-“

“He didn’t attack you, Roman!” Patton yelled, shocking both of the other males. “He pushed you out so you weren’t caught under the collapse! But I didn’t see him leave!”

“How can you be so certain? You didn’t see what he looked like this entire time,” Roman crossed his arms, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that started in his chest.

“We did,” Logan said quietly, looking at him with an almost cold look. “When he pushed you out, we saw. And I don’t care. He saved you, Roman. We need to see if he is okay.”

The sinking feeling grew worse, and now the red merman looked back at the faces of his loves. Had… had he really?

After a long moment of silence, he huffed, looking away from them both. “Fine, we’ll look for him. If just to prove my point. And if he hurts either of you, I won’t hesitate to end him.”

The other two mermen nodded, and with that the three of them went forward and started to search the wrecked wreckage. They picked at the fallen wood and pulled things out of the way. It was when Logan lifted up a certain spot that the scent of blood filled his nose, making him back away.

Before he could do anything, something shot out and swam as fast as it could away from him, away from the three mermen and off into the deep blue beyond. And if he wasn’t mistaken…

It looked like an octopus.

#logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #merman au #writing

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deobienthusiast · 4 years ago

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burn it: chapter one

• pairing: son youngtaek (golden child) x reader x lee jangjun (golden child) ft. the rest of golden child

• word count: 5,113 words

• genre: established relationship, strangers to lovers!au, zombie apocalypse!au, angst

• rating: PG-13

• ⚠️warnings⚠️: mentions of violence, threats, zombies, guns, eventual character death, blood, mentions of suicide ⚠️ IF ANY OF THIS BOTHERS YOU PLEASE DO NOT ENGAGE!!!!!

• notes: shout out to the anon that spurred me on to this. i told you i might do it. well now i am. this is going to be multiple parts. it will NOT be told in the way the webtoon or music video depicts it. even though this is based off the mv, it will not follow the plot entirely like the mv shows. some things i will have added.

Normal. What a word. It was used to describe all sorts of different situations or scenarios. It could be used to describe people. Now, it was used to describe this very situation. It had been approximately six months since the apparent “heat wave” washed across the town. What started with people going in for heat exhaustion turned into more and more people leaving for a hankering of flesh, human flesh. Word got out about these people, these shells of once lively humans, now with slate white eyes and discolored skin. Their veins jet black and prominent when you look at them, with teeth stained from blood and human remains.

You tried to think back to how this could have started. Does it travel through the air? How was it transmitted? How come certain people got it those six months ago? Did it come from a lab? Did it come from an animal? You remember the day your boyfriend told you about the strange man who looked pale, almost translucent, as he had bumped into him and his longtime friend and roommate, Joochan. Your boyfriend, Youngtaek, he also went by his nickname Tag, was always colorful with his story-telling, so you didn’t believe him when he said it looked like something was wrong with the man. Neither you nor Joochan believed him. How could you when as soon as he finished his sentence about the strange, pale man, he started another one about a group of boys playing basketball and how one of them hit him.

Joochan had told you about his playful joke he made up about zombies and an alleged virus to Youngtaek. It’s funny just how true that off-colored humor ended up being. Your classes became smaller and smaller. You remember telling Youngtaek about it while out to dinner with him and Joochan

“Another one? Jeez. Be careful. I love you, but I am not taking care of you if you’re sick.” Youngtaek playfully said making you shove at his chest.

Joochan snickered. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you Y/N.”

Smiling at the younger boy, you elbowed your boyfriend which caused him to yelp.

“Ouch! I was joking. Besides, you know I’ll always take care of you.” He had told you, leaning down to peck your lips.

You both laughed at Joochan’s reaction. “I think I need a drink.”

He had left the table in time for you to hear your boyfriend tell you words that he forever kept true to.

Youngtaek had watched Joochan before looking at you. “I’m serious. I’ll always take care of you. I’m always going to protect you. I love you.”

You remember repeating those words back to him. The restaurant, not very packed, was the last public place you three visited before everything went all to hell. It was the last place to stay open through the first couple of weeks before those monsters broke into it, causing absolute chaos.

Youngtaek kept true to his promise to not only you, but his younger friend as well. He moved you into his shared home with Joochan. He kept the house safe and boarded up, only going out if you needed supplies. You three went together, everywhere. The three of you stuck to your own motto: “Stick together, no matter the weather”.

You three lived like that for six months. The three of you were stronger together then apart. This was proven the day Joochan almost got bit by one of those ravenous creatures. He had tried to go out to get more food by himself. Both you and Youngtaek managed to get to the boy in time before he became a human happy meal. It was on that day Joochan decided that the three of you do everything together. In order to stay alive, greater numbers were more likely to survive.

The virus wiped through the city faster than imagined. Buildings just became empty vessels left to be terrorized. The number of survivors dwindled down. Hospitals shut down and doctors fled to other cities, other countries, or just took their own lives. The news stopped broadcasting about the events that had taken place after an anchor was bit on live television. The only source of hope was by a man on a radio, calling for all survivors, if any, to join him on the other side of the city. Seoul was quite a large city. You, Youngtaek, and Joochan could only hope that there were more than you three and this mysterious radioman.

Soon, your safe house became a not-so-safe territory. A horde strong enough to push through the doors and break through the windows attacked the three of you. Barely being able to escape, the three of you were now on foot trekking towards what you could think is the only survivor left.

Keeping a tight grip on Youngtaek’s arm, you kept by his side as Joochan led the way. The three of you walked through the once booming city that was now a desolate wasteland of tragedy and human carnage. Passing by burning buildings and broken down cars crashed into one another, you tightened your grip on Youngtaek’s arm.

He sensed your fear as he spoke softly. “It’s okay. Just keep holding my hand, baby.”

Joochan looked up at the sky momentarily before you both heard a noise. Stopping in your tracks, the three of you looked in the direction the noise came from. Youngtaek reached into his pocket on the opposite side of where you were standing, palming the pistol he had managed to get ahold of from a dead body. Joochan took a few steps forward, holding his hand up and pointing it behind him. He signaled for you two to stop as he kept walking.

“Not too far, Joochan.” Youngtaek called out to the boy.

The boy nodded. “Got it.”

Your boyfriend pushed you behind him as Joochan stopped. You took in a shaky breath as Joochan turned to the both of you.

“I don’t see anything.” He spoke in a hushed tone as he walked back towards the two of you.

You let out the breath you were holding as Youngtaek nodded. “Okay, we gotta find a place to hide for the night. Some place that can be boarded up so we can set up a fire.”

Joochan agreed as he looked around the area the three of you were in. The large buildings, despite being burnt and beaten, would be good hiding spots if they weren’t already occupied by something else.

“How many bullets do we have?” You quietly asked, catching both boys' attention.

Youngtaek and Joochan looked at each other as Youngtaek pulled the gun out of his pocket. Opening the barrel, he let the bullets drop into his hand as he counted them before reloading the gun.

“Enough, but we need to find shelter. Now.” Your boyfriend told you.

Joochan looked around once more before pointing at a smaller one story building just a little ways ahead of the two of you.

“How about that building over there. Past that abandoned bus.” Joochan suggested.

You and Youngtaek nodded as the three of you headed towards the building. The setting sun began to disappear behind some of the large buildings within the city of Seoul as dark shadows cast themselves across other buildings and across the ground. The three of you slowly made your way towards the building Joochan had pointed out. Youngtaek kept an arm around you as you all passed by the empty, abandoned bus.

Joochan stopped, turning to look at you and your boyfriend. “I’m going to check the bus real quick. See if there’s any supplies.”

Youngtaek nodded as you spoke. “Be careful, Joochan.”

He nodded as he carefully headed for the broken up doors of the bus. Joochan slowly made his way in the bus as the darkness started to consume the city. You took in a breath when everything went silent. No sounds could be heard except the breathing coming from Youngtaek and yourself.

“Joochan,” You called out. “Okay, time to come back out now.”

Youngtaek eyed the bus, the wind pushing his vibrant red locks all across his head. He went to step out of your grasp, wanting to check the bus for his friend before a hand popped up through the window.

“Flares!” You both heard Joochan yell. “I found road flares.”

There was a little commotion before Joochan was scurrying off the bus, two road flares in both hands.

“Found us a fire.” Joochan said with a tiny smirk.

Youngtaek patted his back before pulling you back into him. “Let’s get inside.”

The three of you jogged into the building, slowing down as Joochan swapped a road flare for the gun your boyfriend was carrying. He turned to look outside, watching the sun finally disappear over the horizon before whispering.

“Go ahead and light that flare.” Joochan spoke lowly as you grabbed one from Youngtaek, lighting it.

The room illuminated in a pinkish-red glow as Joochan led the way, armed and ready to fight off any assailants. He found a room just in the back of the building with a metal door and no windows. He took the flare from you as he swung it around the room, checking for zombies or survivors.

“It’s clear.” He told you as the three of you walked into the room.

That’s when you heard it. The low growl of a zombie or a group of them, stalking around the building.

“Quick, close the door.” Youngtaek said rather loudly, alerting the zombies.

They let out guttural screams as they ran towards your location. Youngtaek pushed you back as he and Joochan made their way towards the door, pushing it closed. The zombies rounded the corner, catching a glimpse of you looking like their next meal as they all but sprinted towards you.

“Youngtaek, hurry!” You yelled out as the boys managed to get the door shut before the zombies could breach the inside.

Joochan slid the lock in place as they both back away, listening to the banging that was being laid on the large metal door. Heavy breathing was all that was heard as you quickly ran to your boyfriend, hugging him tightly. Youngtaek wrapped his arms tightly around you, kissing your head promptly before he spoke.

“Let’s get some rest. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us tomorrow.” Youngtaek said.

Joochan laid the flare on the ground as he slid down the wall, head falling against the door. “I’ll stay up. You two get some rest. It’s my turn anyway.”

Youngtaek walked you over to a slightly darker area of the room as he took off your jacket so you could use it as a pillow. He helped you lay down before pulling off his own jacket to cover you with.

Pecking your lips softly, Youngtaek whispered to you. “I love you. We’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

You nodded, wrapping your hand in his as you allowed yourself to fall asleep.

When you woke up, light shone through the bottom of the door. The room was dark, but you could still make out your boyfriend’s bright red hair.

“Tag,” You said softly, shaking him as he awoke. “It’s morning. We need to get going.”

He nodded as he stretched momentarily before standing. You handed him his jacket from your position on the floor as he threw it on. He helped you up, dusting you off before scanning the dark room for Joochan.

“Joochannie,” Youngtaek called out as you put on your jacket.

You both were met with silence as you met your boyfriend’s eyes in the dark room.

“Where’s Joochan?” You asked.

Youngtaek shrugged before calling out to his friend again, this time louder. “Joochan!”

His voice echoed off the walls as you looked around, trying to make out the shapes in the dark room.

“Tag, I don’t see him.” You said quickly.

Youngtaek grabbed your hand as he pulled you to the door. Feeling for the lock, Youngtaek stopped to look at you.

“The door is still locked.” He whispered.

You felt a panic start to settle over you as you went to grasp it, shoving it open. “We have to find him. He could be hurt.”

You helped Youngtaek push the door open as you two were met with a few zombies. They stood at the sound of the metal door scraping across the floor as your boyfriend felt around in his pocket. Your eyes followed the movement of his hand as he looked at you.

“The gun, it’s gone.” Youngtaek said.

You were about to freak out before he grabbed your hand pulling you through the door.

“But the zombies,” You started, but he didn’t let you finish.

“We gotta find Joochan. We’ll outrun them to the exit.” Youngtaek said as he pulled you through the hallway, pushing the undead corpses out of his way.

As soon as one got close to you, Youngtaek was quick to move you out of the way, willing to sacrifice himself first to get you to safety. The closer you got to the exit, the more lit up the building became. You saw the door the three of you previously entered the night before as you pointed.

“There’s the door.” Youngtaek followed the movement of your arm as he pulled you into a dead sprint until you were outside.

He pushed you behind him as he grabbed a piece of wood with a nail sticking out of it. He backed the both of you up, closer to the bus without turning around as he swung at the zombies. Pushing you into the bus, you bumped into a body as you let out a screech.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, it’s just me.” Joochan said before rushing around you to help his friend.

You climbed to the top of the bus and covered your head, too afraid to watch the boys fight for their and your lives. When the commotion had finally died down, you heard your boyfriend’s voice.

“Y/N, it’s safe. You can come down now.” Youngtaek softly announced.

Lifting your head, you leaned it over the edge of the bus to see your boyfriend holding open his arms. He motioned you to jump into them as you did so. Catching you with ease, he sat you down on the ground as you wrapped your arms tightly around his torso. You felt him peck the top of your head, mumbling something into it that you didn’t quite catch as you pulled away to push the younger boy next to you.

Joochan stumbled as you yelled. “What the hell, Joochan? Why did you just leave like that? We thought something happened to you! You can’t just leave like that!”

Not used to you yelling at him, Joochan didn’t dare meet your eyes as he nodded. “I-I’m sorry. You two were still asleep so I went to try and find more supplies on the bus.”

His finger pointed in the direction of the abandoned bus before he grunted. Your weight hit him like a truck as you pull him in for a hug. He hesitates before hugging you back. When you pull away, you punch his. chest.

“Don’t you ever do that again, okay?” You asked the young boy softly as he nodded.

His brown eyes widened slightly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. I won’t go off by myself again. I promise.”

Youngtaek pulled him in for a hug before you noticed something in Joochan’s pocket. Reaching for it, both boys noticed it.

“What is it?” Youngtaek asked as you looked over it.

You read over it as you cocked your head. “It’s a note.”

Joochan spoke. “I found it this morning. I found another hideaway door in the room we slept in, so I used it so I wouldn’t wake you two or catch wind of the zombies. I made it back to the bus to continue looking for clues of that radio guy or a map. Instead, I found this note.”

Youngtaek gently took it from you as he read it out loud.

Bomin, if you find this note know that I am still alive. I've gone off to find other survivors and seek shelter. Take care of my little sister. I know you will. Tell her I love her. I’ll find you guys soon. - Sungyoon

You looked at the two boys as you spoke. “There’s still people out here. Alive.”

“We don’t know that. Who knows how old this letter is and if this bomin and sungyoon are even real people.” Joochan said.

Youngtaek kept looking over the note as you scoffed. “You think someone just planted a note on an abandoned bus.”

The boy shrugged. He went to speak before your boyfriend beat him to it. “There’s blood on this note.”

You and Joochan froze as you looked at him. He held it up to the light as he spoke. “It’s fresh, and it’s not from a human.”

You looked at the note then at Youngtaek. “He must have split from his sister and his friend to keep them safe.”

“Do you think he was bitten?” Joochan asked.

Youngtaek shrugged. “Maybe he sacrificed himself to save the two of them. He was able to leave a note. Maybe he is still alive.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “That’s a good sign, right? We know of three other people that might still be alive and aren't zombies. This is huge!”

Youngtaek folded the note back up, handing it to Joochan as you three heard a growl off in the distance behind you. “We’ve gotta go. Now.”

Youngtaek grabbed your hand before nodding his head in a specific direction. He led the way as you and Joochan followed behind. You would all stop every so often to check abandoned cars, killing any zombies that popped out of anywhere. As you looked through one of the cars, you gasped.

“Guys, I found water!” You yelled, alerting the two boys who were searching another car not too far from you.

Jogging over to your spot, you let the boys get into the car as they pulled out the package of bottled water. Joochan let out a laugh as he smiled.

“Thank goodness! I thought I was going to die of dehydration.” Joochan said as he ripped open the package, grabbing a bottle for himself.

Youngtaek grabbed one for you as he helped you sit on the roof of the car. He opened one for himself as the three of you sat in silence. The sun beamed down on you before you heard Joochan laugh.

“Hyung,” The boy said, grabbing your boyfriend’s attention. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

Youngtaek stared at Joochan for a moment before casting his gaze to the ground beneath his feet. He laughed slightly. “Yeah. You were so nervous that you offered me an empty water bottle.”

Giggling at the statement, a smile made its way to your boyfriend’s face as he looked at you. “He did. He introduced himself, but he said his name wrong. I think he said something like Joon Hochan or something like that.”

Joochan was cracking up as you slid off the roof of the car.

“Real smooth, Channie.” You said, nudging the boy gently.

He shrugged. “I came out of my shell eventually. Thanks to you guys that is.”

You smiled at the boy as he spoke again. “I want to tell you guys something, in the case that something should happen to one of us.”

“Nothing is going to happen to one of us Joochan.” Youngtaek interrupted.

You could tell he had gotten frustrated with the way the conversation was heading as you reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I know, hyung. I know. But in case something does, I love you two so much. You’ve been the best friends I could ever ask for. I wish you both the best happiness, and I want you to know how thankful I am for everything you’ve done for me.” Joochan finished.

A tear made its way down your face as Youngtaek grabbed the boy and you, pulling you both in for a bear hug. You hugged both the boys before hearing a growl from behind you. Slipping from the boys’ embrace, you took notice of the zombie behind you, and the others hot on its trail.

“Tag, Chan.” You softly said.

Your tone prompted the boys to pull apart as Joochan gasped. “Crap.”

Youngtaek pushed you behind him as he turned to Joochan. More zombies started to join the few that were behind you as your breathing picked up.

“Tag,” You said in a warning tone.

“Joochan, take her somewhere and make sure she’s safe.” Youngtaek said, making you freeze.

“What?” You asked as he pulled the gun out of his pocket. “I’m not leaving you.”

He shook his head. “I’m not pulling you through this horde. I won’t risk your life like that.”

“Youngtaek I’m not leaving you.” You countered again.

As the zombies closed in, he raised his voice. “Yes you are. Joochan is taking you somewhere safe. You’ll stay there and then-,”

Before he could finish his sentence, a zombie swung at him. Youngtaek ducked before using his shoulder to push the zombie away.

“Take her now! Go!” Youngtaek yelled as Joochan began to pull you away.

“Wait!” You fought as the zombies surrounded your boyfriend.

Your eyes widened as they swarmed him, making you scream. “No! We have to go back for him! Youngtaek!”

Joochan pulled you inside an abandoned building, quickly opening a closet door and pushing you in. You went to stand, tears spilling from your eyes as you spoke.

“I can’t leave him. I need to help him. Please!” You shouted.

“I’ll help him. Just stay here. Don’t move. I’ll come back for you.” Joochan closed the door, leaving it open a crack as he sprinted back out the door and to his friend.

You felt yourself shake as you heard Joochan scream before there were gunshots let off. You let out a scream yourself at the sound as you started to cry. You still heard the sound of the zombies from outside the building as you stayed in the closet, waiting. The minutes turned to hours as you continued to cry. Why hadn’t Joochan come back to get you? Why hadn’t Youngtaek? Did they make it? You wouldn’t be able to beat the thought of losing the both of them. Just the idea of it made you start to cry again.

You stayed in the closet for who knows how long before you finally opened the door, quietly. The door creaked, making you pause slightly as you sniffled. Wiping at your face, you let yourself wander out of the closest. Heading for a window, you lifted up the plastic that was covering it to show a horde of zombies covering the ground. They moved around, stepping and bumping into each other as you looked through the bodies from your boyfriend and friend. Searching for Youngtaek’s bright red hair amongst the infected made your heart race. You looked over what seemed like every head and covered your mouth as you let out a sob. Not one held a full head of vibrant, bright red hair.

The feeling of not finding your boyfriend or his friend left an empty feeling in your gut. Letting out a loud sob, you couldn’t help but think about what Joochan said before you three were attacked. You also felt your heart rate pick up. Maybe they survived. If by some chance they did, they were just hiding out until the zombies cleared out. Yeah. That’s what they did. You were going to keep that in your head as you sat yourself on the floor.

Taking in some deep breaths, you tried to calm yourself as you looked around the building you were in. It looked to be a garage of some sort, but with no weapon on you, you weren’t going to go sightsee. The sun was shining through the room, peaking past the poor attempts that were made to board up the windows. The door was broken off the bottom hinges causing it to always stay cracked open. You took in your surroundings before hearing moving coming from the floor above you. Shuffling to your feet, you listened to the way the steps landed on the floor as your eyes followed the sound.

Quickly, you looked around the garage you were in, trying to find any type of weapon. Your eyes fell on a tool box as you ran to it, opening it and grabbing a hammer. You kept a tight grip on it as you continued to look around the room before noticing a piece of paper on the ground. Picking it up, it was the note you had read earlier with Joochan and Youngtaek. You shoved it into the back pocket of your jeans before hearing voices outside. Backing up, you got back into the closet, closing the door as the voices got closer.

“I don’t know where they could’ve gone. Why didn’t they just stay put?” One of the voices said.

“They probably got attacked and moved somewhere else. Let’s just keep looking. Stay out here and keep watch, I’m checking inside.” Another voice said.

You closed the door the best you could as footsteps made their way closer to you. Leaning back, they breached the garage you were in as they walked around.

“Hyung, did you find anything?” The first voice asked.

You were met with silence before the voice closest to you spoke. “Not yet. There’s no weapons, but it looks like someone has been in here.”

“Do you think it was them?” The first voice asked once more.

“Maybe.” The other voice said.

The footsteps got close to the closet, prompting you to cover your mouth with your hand. A gasp left you before your hand could catch as the movement outside the closet stopped.

“Hello?” You heard the voice call out.

Staying quiet, you squeezed your hand against your mouth before seeing a hand reach for the door. Your eyes widened as the door opened, and you came face to face with a rather tall boy. Looking over his features, he held out a hand to you as you pushed yourself farther into the small closet.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” He said.

“Hyung, who are you talking to?” The voice outside said.

You hesitantly took his hand as you spoke. “You’re not infected.”

Shaking his head, he went to speak before another boy came running in. “Zombies!”

He stopped in his tracks as he looked at you. His gaze made you shiver. He had dark brown eyes, almost black as he looked at you.

“Who’s she?” He asked, not taking his eyes off of you.

The boy who had helped you shrugged. “I found her in the closet.”

Growls were heard from outside as the boy turned to look at the door.

“Daeyeol, we gotta go.” The boy said.

The boy who had helped you looked at you.

“Your name is Daeyeol?” You asked him.

He nodded.

“There will be time for introducing ourselves later. We need to leave.” The other boy said.

Daeyeol nodded as he took a hold of your hand again. “Come on.”

The other boy stopped you. “We can’t take her with us!”

“We can’t leave her here. She doesn’t have anyone.” Daeyeol countered.

The other boy let out a groan as he nodded. “Okay, fine. Can we go now?”

Daeyeol nodded as he started to pull you out of the garage and back into the open. The sight of the zombies scavenging through other buildings made you shake as the three of you quickly moved down the empty streets. You stayed behind the two boys, as you noticed the bags on their backs.

“What’s in the bags?” You asked.

The boy turned to look at you before looking at Daeyeol, getting a nod of permission from him.

“Medicine. For our friend.” The boy said.

You perked up. “Friend? There’s more of you?”

The boy stopped suddenly as he turned to you. “Why were you in that closet? Who were you hiding from?”

Daeyeol shoved him. “Stop being rude.”

“No. We picked up some random person in a closet in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and you're not the least bit curious as to why?” He asked.

“I was with my boyfriend and our friend.” You countered, quieting both guys. “We got attacked so my boyfriend had me hide in the closet while the two of them fought off the zombies.”

“What happened to your boyfriend and his friend?” Daeyeol asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I heard gunshots, and haven’t heard anything since. I’ve been sitting in that closet for hours now. My friend told me he’d come back for me.”

“And he never did.” Daeyeol finished.

You shook your head. “I don’t know where they are.”

“Or if they’re even alive,” The other boy said, earning a shove from his tall friend.

“I know they’re still alive. I believe that they are, and they are just hiding out somewhere. Just like you believe that your friends are still alive.” You told the boy.

He scoffed as you looked at Daeyeol. You took his hand again as you spoke. “If it’s okay with you. I don’t have anyone else, and don’t want to be by myself.”

Daeyeol nodded. “That’s fine. You can gladly join us. Right Jangjun?”

You smiled before looking at the other boy, Jangjun, as he sighed.

“Yeah, I guess.” He said, making your smile disappear. “Can we just keep looking, please?”

Jangjun walked off as you frowned.

Daeyeol nudged you. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just really protective over our friends and I. He’s not as trusting as the rest of us.”

You nodded. “Any reason why?”

“It’s a rather long story, but I promise I’ll tell you when we get somewhere a little more safe, okay?” He asked, making you nod.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” You said softly.

Daeyeol smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Daeyeol. And don’t worry, we’ll find your boyfriend and your friend. Just like we’re going to find ours.”

A nod was sent his way as you both walked the way Jangjun had headed. Your mind drifted to Joochan and Youngtaek as you looked back off in the distance, barely being able to make out the building Joochan had set you in. All you could hope was that they were alive and okay.

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stagbells · 4 years ago

Text

Written Work

From: @grollow

To: @flame-flygon

Written work under the readmore!

It’s been almost a year since Hollow got freed from the Black Egg. The year had been long, and their recovery process had felt even longer, but they’re in a far better and happier place then they were in those first few months of freedom. They had slept a lot back then, both their body and mind needing as much rest as it could in order to heal. They no longer had to feel wary of dreams entering their sleep for the dream god herself had been killed - banished from existence for good. It was relieving to them; they could slip into peaceful darkness for as long as they wished with nothing to fear, although the occasional nightmare, courtesy of the Nightmare King himself, would sneak up on them. Their siblings had helped them throughout their entire recovery as well. Their patience and understanding and love had meant more to Hollow than they will ever know. Although they had seemingly been recovering fine, there were still a few wounds left that was going to take longer to heal. Because of how long they stayed in the Black Egg, and because the Egg had been relatively small and dark and cramped, they no longer felt comfortable traversing through small spaces. It made traveling hard for them, as the direct area underneath the well is the Forgotten Crossroads, an area made almost exclusively of small tunnels, and to get to anywhere else in the Kingdom you had to go through there. They could’ve chosen to ride on the Stag - the last known alive transportation that wasn’t buried deep beneath the wastelands, but the Stag’s winding roads were also tunnels, smaller and narrower ones at that. Ghost hadn’t been too perturbed, however. They wanted their big sibling to explore the Kingdom like they had - though they figured Hollow had already done that years prior - and introduce them to the still remaining lives of those who had survived the infection scattered across the place. They knew they had to go about it slowly; despite their excitement they would rather not put Hollow in a situation they don’t want to be in. So that’s what they did. They started slow. Hollow began getting used to the crossroads simply by just standing next to the rope that hung down from the well. They didn’t move at first, instead focusing on their surroundings and letting themself take in the dark area. They didn’t move ahead for the first few days, but Ghost didn’t mind. They kept them company. Eventually they started moving - left, never right, never towards the Temple - their first ever destination being the spot where the Grubfather rested. To Ghost’s surprise, all the children he had consumed had turned into small butterflies of their own, the father acting like some sort of cocoon for them. Luckily for him, it seemed like they were able to leave his body without harming him. Lucky for Ghost too, they don’t think Hollow would want to ever come back down if they had seen a horrifying corpse during their first few days. Over time Hollow got more and more confident moving through the tunnels. They weren’t completely used to it, they don’t think they’ll ever truly get comfortable with it either if they had to be honest, but they had managed to make it all the way to Salubra, definitely a unique character in their opinion, within two weeks of their hesitant journey, and that in and of itself is something to celebrate. Ghost had asked them during one of their resting days if they wanted to go to Greenpath with them someday. Apparently, there’s a few people there that they wanted their sibling to see, and had assured them that Greenpath is a lot more spacious and freeing than the crossroads are. Hollow knew that already, but wasn’t quite sure if they were allowed to step foot into the territory. Pale King had taken part of Greenpath to turn into a massive garden area for their mother, and so Hollow was allowed to roam the gardens but wasn’t permitted to go into Unn’s still controlled area. They weren’t sure if they should take Ghost up on their offer. Then again, Hollow had always loved the green lucious plant life surrounding the place. They don’t exactly want to step into their mother's place at the moment - they’re not yet ready to see the Queen herself - but they do want to see green again. Their favorite color. They had decided to go with Ghost after all, even if they were barred by merit of being the King’s heir, they figured they really had nothing else to lose by disobeying rules. Besides, they remember Unn being extremely kind and patient towards them as a child, and they’re hopeful that that hasn’t changed now that they’re an adult.

They both venture out to Greenpath the next day, slowly and methodically traversing down the crossroad’s platforms to make it to the promise of plants poking through the cement cracks right at the entrance. Hollow feels excited. Dirtmouth, while peaceful and quiet, doesn’t have a lot of color to it unfortunately. The most colorful part of the town belongs to the deep red of the Grimm Troupe’s tents, and they don’t know how long that will stay for. They’ve longed to see a vibrant color again. Ghost holds onto a piece of their cloak - the closest they can get to holding their much taller sibling’s hand, and walks with them down the cobblestone path and into the new territory. The grass feels soft under their feet, and surrounding them is an array of colorful flowers and plants, their petals swaying to the gentle breeze. They both pause when Hollow spots a purple flower, it’s petals not the biggest they’ve seen but they hold it up to their mask and smell it anyway. It’s sweet and good and they look down at their sibling who stares back curiously. Hollow leans down and hands the flower to them, wanting them to smell the aroma as well. Ghost doesn’t know why they got handed the flower, but after a few moments of staring at it they slowly push the bulb and stem right into one of their eye sockets, absorbing the nutrients and effectively eating the flower. It tasted like slippery grass. Ghost liked it. Hollow is horrified. They both continue walking forward, this moment forever stained into Hollow’s mind. They reach an opening into the wider area of Greenpath. Bushes line along the path, buzzing with life and movement. Although this place is underground, it almost gives off an illusion of a sky that’s never ending. The air is a lot warmer than the crossroads, but not too much that it’s uncomfortable. It’s probably warmed up because of the acid pools right underneath the passages, but Hollow figures that if they wanted to they could curl up on the ground and take a nice nap. As they walk further down, Ghost telling them that they should meet their “hunter” friend, a very slight and startled chirp sound chitters in a path of grass next to them. Both of the vessels look down at it, and to Hollow’s surprise the grass starts moving on it’s own. It starts going toward them very slowly, almost shyly, and they stare back at it but don't move. They can’t remember grass walking ever in their life, but then again they remember the tip of Hegemol’s mace turning out to be a bug he made friends with long ago, so they know that anything can move with enough sentience even if it shouldn’t be possible. They hope that in this case the grass is also a bug, and not some sort of unknown terrible green fungus that can move. Seeing how Hollow hasn’t budged an inch, Ghost helpfully moves forward and scoops the grass in their arms. While they’re strong enough to carry it, the bug itself still happens to be big enough that their entire head is almost hidden by the grass. Hollow chooses at this moment to sit down for now, wanting to get a closer look at the thing Ghost is holding but also mostly wanting to rest their legs from the long journey. Ghost walks over to them and gently places the grass in their lap, patting both it and Hollow comfortingly to prevent either of them from getting nervous. Hollow looks down at it only to find two beady black eyes staring back at them. “This is a mosscreep,” Ghost explains. Hollow stares back at the mosscreep, their nerves calming somewhat as the bug doesn’t do anything. It seems to be non threatening, which is fine with them. They’ve met too many aggressive sorts in their life. The mosscreep chirps at them and, even though Hollow can’t understand them, they chirp back. They must’ve said something correct cause the creature suddenly turns over on it’s back, purring. To Hollow’s joy, they find very tiny black legs poking out from it’s grass fur, and they hesitantly go and pat it’s stomach. The mosscreep purrs louder, and they relax considerably. Ghost takes in the interaction, feeling content at the apparent bonding between the two. Hollow had always been so shy, it was welcoming seeing them respond so positively to a small little thing like a mosscreep. Hollow looks back at them, politely patting a spot next to them in an invitation for Ghost to sit down. They don’t hesitate to accept, hurriedly walking over and plopping down next to them. They lean over to pat the mosscreep as well, almost snuggling right into Hollow’s side as they did so. “Do you think we can keep it?” Hollow asks after a few quiet moments. They carefully run their slender fingers through the tufts of moss, noticing how weirdly solid the body underneath was. Ghost nodded. “I don’t think sister would mind.” “That’s good.” “If she says ‘no’ I’ll smuggle it in for you.” “I know.” Ghost snuggles against Hollow’s leg, the warmth of the air and the comfort of their sibling slowly starting to make them drowsy. Hollow feels a unique warmth blossom throughout their chest, a feeling of happiness almost overflowing from them. They think their recovery is worth it if it means they get to experience moments like this.

#ghost #hollow #stagbells #stagbells2020 #writing

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ashdeancas · 4 years ago

Text

Heaven on Earth

This was written as part of the ProfoundBond fic exchange for @internetintroverts . I really do hope you like it!

Dean was standing near the trees outside the bunker enjoying the gentle early morning sun. The rising sun cast a rosy hue across the morning sky. He could hear the birds singing and flying around, relishing the perfect spring morning.

I should probably head inside and make some breakfast. Dean thought, Cas will be up soon.

As he was making breakfast he was thinking if he should surprise Cas with a breakfast in bed. Some bacon, toast and eggs to go with a hot cup of coffee.

He set the breakfast on the tray and took it to their room. Cas was still sleeping, Dean could feel his heart swell with love seeing him so peaceful and content.

“Hey, Angel. Rise and shine.”, Dean said softly, caressing his cheek.

“Nooooo. I want to sleep. Few more minutes”, Cas grumbled.

“Come on, wake up. I made you breakfast.”

Dean moved the breakfast tray closer to Cas’s nose to try to wake him up. Cas slowly opened his eyes and peeked at the breakfast.

“Mmmmmm. Smells so good. Thank you, Dean“

“No problem, Cas. Now, come on, get up and eat.”

“No, not yet. Not until I get my morning kiss.”

Dean laughed as he leaned in to offer a kiss that’s just like everything else this morning - soft, gentle, and perfect.

“I love you, Cas.”

“I love you, too, Dean. I wish you had told me this before it was too late.” said Cas with a sad smile.

Dean heard a loud wailing sound and he jerked awake, clutching his heart. He looked around trying to get his bearings. It was a dream. It was just a dream. Yet it felt so real.

The wailing was getting louder. Dean groaned as he got up from his bed and made his way to Jack’s room.

Sam was already there trying to get Jack to stop crying.

“It’s okay, Jack. Everything is okay, I am here. You want some milk, huh? Come on, let’s go to the kitchen.” said Sam as he picked Jack up from his crib.

He noticed Dean standing at the door and said “You look like hell. Please tell me you weren’t drinking again.”

Dean shrugged and turned to head to the bathroom to take some aspirin for his throbbing headache.

“Come on, Dean. It’s been three months since Cas died. I miss him, too. But you can’t keep drinking yourself to death. Please, talk to me.”

“Just leave me alone, Sam.”

He could see the worry on Sam’s face but he couldn’t face it, talk about it.

Dean went inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He looked at himself in the mirror, face red and tears slipping down his cheeks.

I am sorry, Cas. I wish I had told you sooner. Confessed my feelings instead of cowering behind a wall, being an emotional mess. Now it’s too late. Too fucking late. And I can’t do anything about it.

Dean closed his eyes, trying to remember his dream, Cas smiling at him, telling Dean that he loves him. But all he could think about was that night he lost everything. The night he lost Cas. The night Lucifer stabbed him before Dean and Sam could seal him inside the Apocalypse world forever.

Dean kneeled at the spot where Lucifer stabbed Cas. He did not know how long he was kneeling next to Cas, was it seconds? Minutes? Hours?

He remembered Sam talking to him, trying to get him to come inside the cabin, saying something about Jack and Kelly dying giving birth to Jack. But he could not bring himself to think about all that. All he could do was stay with Cas.

Castiel, Angel of the Lord. Cas, my Angel, my best friend, my person, my everything. How many times he longed for Cas when he was off doing his Heaven work. How many times he longed to tell Cas how he really felt. How he loved him with everything he got. How scared he was to admit his feelings towards Cas.

But now it's too late. Cas is dead. Everytime he closed his eyes he could see the blinding flash of light, Cas's grace leaving his vessel.

Dean kept staring at Cas’s burnt wings etched on the ground. Oh, how many times he wondered what Cas’s wings would look like. How many times he wondered if Cas would show him his wings, to touch it, to feel it.

But this was not how he imagined seeing his wings. Not dead. Not burnt to the ground.

Cas, please come back to me. I need you.

Dean showered, took some Aspirin and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. Sam was sitting on the dining table with Jack on his lap, feeding him a bottle of milk.

He was making some bacon when all of a sudden he remembered his dream. He was making Cas bacon and eggs too. He felt the spatula leave his hand and drop to the floor. Dean’s throat closed up and tears were threatening to spill from his eyes. No, no, no. Stop thinking about it.

“Dean, are you okay?” asked Sam with a tinge of worry in his voice.

Dean cleared his throat and said “Yeah, Sam. I am awesome.”

Sam sighed and said “Do you want to hold Jack for a while?”

Dean looked at the small bundle in Sam’s lap, tiny fingers wrapped around his feeding bottle. But all Dean could see iis that he is Lucifer’s son.

“No, Sammy. I don’t want to hold him” said Dean roughly.

“Dean, he is just a baby. Just, look at him. He’s so adorable.”

“No, Sam. I can hardly look at the kid. He is Lucifer’s child. He’s the reason Cas is dead. He promised him paradise on earth and Cas bought it and you know what that got him? It got him dead. Now, you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t.” shouted Dean, all his feelings and regrets turning into such anger.

Jack started to cry again. Sam gave him an annoyed look and left the kitchen with Jack.

Dean was trying to calm himself down by taking deep breaths. He shouldn’t have shouted at Sam. Deep down he knows it’s not Jack’s fault. I mean, he is just a baby, an infant. Damn it. He should apologize to Sam later. Maybe buy him a salad or something. But not now. Right now, all Dean wanted to do was drink and pass out so that he doesn’t have to deal with all his feelings towards Cas, all those unsaid words.

Dean went on a couple of solo hunts to take his mind off things. A vampire nest in Omaha. A djinn case in Wilmington. And a bunch of bars along the way. Sam called him every now and then to give him some updates about the case, told him about Jack and how adorable and lovely he is and asked Dean how he is doing. Dean always cut the call when he was asked that question and headed to the bar to drown in his sorrows instead.

Dean was heading back to the bunker after three weeks. He got there around midnight. Sam and Jack were already asleep. He showered, went to bed and tried to get some sleep.

Next morning, he woke up and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast for them. Sam and Jack came in after a few minutes. Jack was cooing in Sam’s arms, trying to catch his ridiculously long hair.

“Morning, Sammy. How is he doing?” asked Dean nodding at Jack.

Sam was looking at Jack with a soft smile and said “He is doing great, Dean. He is a really quiet kid, not troublesome at all.”

“Hmmm.”

They were having their breakfast, Jack was drinking his milk making tiny sounds every now and then. Sam kept looking at Dean as if he wanted to ask something.

Finally, after a long silence, “Dean. Can you look after him today? I have been cooped up inside, doing baby stuff for weeks. I feel like I need a day or two out in the sun, get some fresh air, maybe go watch a movie at the theater next town. There is a new French documentary I want to watch.”

Dean looked at Sam. He really looked like he needed some rest from the baby duties. He looked at Jack. Dean sighed.

“Fine, Sam. I can take care of him for a day or two.”

“Cool, thanks, Dean. All of Jack’s stuff is there in his room. His diaper bag, his clothes, his toys.” said Sam as he handed Jack to Dean.

After a few minutes, he heard the bunker door close. Dean looked at Jack. He had finished his bottle and looked like he was about to take a nap.

“Let’s get you into bed, now, shall we?” said Dean as he left the kitchen to Jack’s room.

Jack was quiet for the most part. Dean spent some time watching western movies and hanging out with Jack. Sam was right, Jack was an easy kid.

He found it slightly better to look at Jack now, to take care of him. All his anger seemed to vanish when Jack gave him a smile.

He had put Jack to sleep and went to his own room. Dean was struggling to go to sleep. He was still thinking about Cas and imagining “What if” scenarios. He also prayed to Chuck, again, begging him to bring Cas back. But nothing happened.

He heard some noises coming from Jack’s room. Dean went to check in on him and found that Jack was wide awake.

He picked him up from his crib and sat on the rocking chair near the window.

“Hey, kiddo. Can’t sleep? Me too.”

Jack looked at him with those big blue eyes. Eyes just like Cas’s.

“You know, Castiel, he was an Angel. You have his eyes. He has these blue eyes, eyes like the sky. Every time I look at your eyes, you remind me so much of him. Hell, you even look like him. I don’t know how much you know about Cas, how much your Mom told you, but he loved you before you were even born. He believed in you. He believed that you will be good for this Earth. You will rid this Earth of suffering. But he is gone now, and I don’t know where he is, heaven or somewhere else, so even if you do all that, he wouldn’t be here to see it all.”

Jack was looking at Dean without taking his eyes off, as if he was absorbing Dean’s every word.

“He saved me, you know. So many freaking times. He even gave up Heaven and his army for us, for me. I don’t think I deserved it, all the faith he had in me. I couldn’t even save him when he was taken from me. I failed him.

Tears were rolling down Dean’s face, but Dean continued.

“I miss him, Jack. I miss him so much. I … I love him. I love him so much it hurts. I don’t think I will be able survive without him. I regret not telling him how I felt, how I feel. I wish I could get him back, I wish I could say all this to him. But, it’s too late now.”

Dean rubbed the tears off his face and looked at Jack. Jack was still staring at Dean with such intensity and for a minute he thought Jack’s eyes turned golden and it glowed.

He rubbed his eyes and looked at Jack again, but it was back to blue. Did he imagine that? Did he hallucinate the golden eyes?

They both were quiet for a while and slowly Jack drifted off to sleep. Dean kissed Jack’s forehead and put him in his crib.

“Good night, Jack. Sleep well.” said Dean and went back to his room.

A few minutes later Dean got a call on his phone. Sam was probably at the movies or sleeping in a motel, who would be calling at this hour?

Dean’s heart raced as he looked at the caller ID. It was Cas. How was that possible?

“Cas?”

“Dean, it’s me. I am outside. Can you let me in?”

It definitely sounded like Cas. He raced off to the bunker entrance and opened the door.

“Cas?”

“Hello, Dean”

He rushed to hug him, and held on to Cas for far too long. Cas hugged him back and he didn’t want to let go of him either.

“Never do that again, Cas. Please don’t die on me.”

“Okay, Dean.” Cas said as he tightened his grip on Dean.

Dean finally let go of Cas, but he was still close enough to feel Cas’s warmth next to him, still holding his hands. Dean closed the bunker door and led Cas to the war room. Dean seemed to be a loss for words.

“How long was I gone?” enquired Cas.

His lips started to quiver and he was starting to tear up. “Too damn long, Cas. I thought I lost you.”

“What happened? How are you here?” asked Dean.

“I was in the Empty, it was dark and well, nothing. It’s this void where angels and demons go after they die. They sleep for eternity dreaming about all the regrets and failures. It was awful.”

“I am sorry, Cas. But hey, you are back now, I am so glad you are back, pal.” said Dean, and before he could lose the courage, Dean added, “and I missed you, so much”.

“How are you, Dean? What happened after I was gone? Where is Sam and Jack?”

“Sam is taking a couple days off to get some fresh air. As for Jack, come on, let me take you to him” said Dean as he took Cas’s hand and led him to Jack’s room. It felt good to hold his hand, comfortable. Cas did not seem to mind, either.

“Cas, meet Jack.”

Cas looked at Jack with a face full of love and adoration. Dean’s heart swelled with love looking at Cas with such a soft expression on his face.

“He looks so much like you. He has your eyes, you know” said Dean softly.

“He’s beautiful”, whispered Cas.

They both stood near the crib for a few more moments, staring at Jack, staring at each other.

Dean could not keep it in any longer.

“Cas, I need to tell you something.” said Dean as he left Jack’s room.

Cas looked at Dean with questioning eyes, “Sleep well, Jack” and he followed Dean to his room.

Dean was pacing in his room, trying to control his heart beat. He needed to say it now. Cas is back, he is here. He has to tell Cas how he feels. Otherwise he would crumble to dust. All those times he wished that he had told Cas the truth, he could not wait any longer. He should not wait any longer. He waited long enough.

“Dean. What’s wrong?” asked Cas as he came inside Dean’s room.

“Cas, I, uh, I need to tell you something.”

Cas was looking at him with a worried look in his eyes. Dean cursed himself for panicking and making Cas worry.

“Cas, I know that I have said some hurtful stuff to you in the past. You are my best friend and I sometimes did not treat you like that. I don’t know why I get so angry, it’s just always been there. When things go bad, it comes out and I can’t stop it. No matter how bad I want to, I just can’t stop it.”

Dean could feel his eyes burn as he feels the tears running down his face. Cas was looking at him with a pained expression, his eyes starting to tear up as well.

“I, uh, I, uh, I love you, Cas. I have been in love with you for a while now.” whispered Dean as he took a step closer to Cas.

Dean could see a flicker of shock in Cas’s eyes now.

Cas stared at him with tears in his eyes. “Dean …” said Cas softly.

“I regret the fact that it’s taken me so long to say it. I wish I had the courage to say something before, but I was a coward.”

The air was thick with emotion. Cas was still quietly staring at Dean, his expression soft. Dean was starting to panic, what if he doesn’t love me like that, what if I ruined our friendship by saying things out loud.

“Cas, say something” pleaded Dean.

“Dean” breathed Cas, quiet but raw with emotion, eyes wide in shock. The constant longing he had sensed from Dean growing over the years made so much sense now.

“Cas”

“Dean, everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You’re the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.” said Cas softly with tears running down his face as well.

“I love you, too, Dean”

Dean closed the distance between them. He let his eyes wander between Cas’s eyes and lips. Dean bites his lips. He leaned in slowly, giving Cas some time to back off if he wanted to.

“Cas, Can I kiss you?”

Cas gently wiped the tears off Dean’s face and he gave Dean an adorable smile and nodded.

Dean looked into Cas’s eyes and gently cupped his face before closing his eyes and placing a tender kiss as delicately as he could on Cas’s lips.

As the kiss became more intense, Cas snaked his fingers into Dean’s hair and his other hand was wrapped firmly around his lower back. Dean pressed his lips more firmly into Cas’s and slipped his cautiously into his lips. Soon they were gasping for air, well at least Dean was. Cas, being an angel, he could go on all night long.

“Wow, that was awesome” said Dean breathlessly. That was when he noticed something else embracing him, something soft. He turned and saw Cas’s wings was also wrapped around him.

His wings. It was magnificent, divine. It was black with hints of green.

“Cas, they are beautiful. You are beautiful” gasped Dean.

“Thank you, Dean.” blushed Cas.

“Can I touch them?” Dean whispered in awe.

Cas nodded. Dean slowly raised his hands to touch Cas’s feathers. The wings twitched a little as Dean trailed his hands over them. It was so soft.

“Awesome”

They kissed for quite some time and then they finally went to bed.

Next morning, they woke up to find Sam playing with Jack sitting at the kitchen table.

“Hello, Sam” said Cas.

Sam looked up with a shocked and happy face. “Cas?”

He looked at Dean looking for some kind of explanation. Dean went to take Jack off Sam's hands. Sam rushed to give Cas a hug.

“I am so glad you are back, Cas.”

“Me, too, Sam” said Cas.

They all sat around the kitchen table, exchanging stories. Jack instantly liked Cas, he jumped to Cas from Dean’s arms. Dean was looking at them with so much love. Dean took Cas’s hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles. Sam caught his expression and Dean blushed, shrugging and getting up to make some breakfast.

Dean has never been this happy. This peaceful. This content. He has everything he needs right here. He has his Angel, his kid and his baby brother.

All was well. This is heaven on earth.

#PBExchangeReunion #profoundnet #destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn #destiel fanfic #fanfic

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lamalefix · 3 years ago

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Can't have you disappear [2/3] (also on ao3)

Relationship: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)

Characters: Eddie Diaz,Evan "Buck" Buckley, Christopher Diaz, Ana Flores

Tags: Medical Procedures, Blood, Major Character Injury, Developing Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Episode: s04e13 Suspicion

Buck can’t think for a while. His mind blank, hollow, void. But he moves out of habit, talks out of consciousness, like it’s just something that he has to do. He has to function the best as he can, answering what police officers are asking him, he just moves accordingly to what he needs to do. Exactly as if he was someone else, not covered in Eddie’s blood. He is alone in the hospital, and he must move, function, he can’t break down, not now. A police officer commandeers his clothes as investigation evidence, giving in exchange a plain shirt. He says thank you, and please, and continues to answer every single question they ask him.

He answers even when Bobby makes a call, he just does so as if muscle memory, the same that somehow helped cut some time for Eddie. He talks slowly, calmly to his Captain: none of them has to worry about him. They don’t have to worry about him, there’s Eddie somewhere in the operating room, undergoing surgery, a surgery that may not save him. So, he must function as best as he can.

When a very kind nurse wants to accompany him to the restroom he just says thank you, but shrugs and walks away.

When he is alone, he can practically break but just doesn’t. There’s no one there, the hospital doesn’t allow that much of visitors now that there’s a global pandemic, so he could break, but he can’t.

He can’t.

So he avoids looking in the mirror, he just starts to scrub his face, his hands, over and over and over. Patiently. Slowly. Then all at once, harder and harder. He tries his best to ignore that, no matter how hot the water is, how long and hard he rubs and brushes, over and over, over and over, there’s still blood on his hands. In the bed of his fingernails. Encrusted against his cuticles and his knuckles. Blood, Eddie’s blood. And most likely when all this will reach the end, that smell, of wet, bloodied asphalt, that taste of copper and salt won’t ever go away. It may be the matter of his nightmares forever. But he can’t break, not now. Not now that Eddie is like in a Schrödinger’s cat situation, that is neither alive, nor dead, but also both alive and dead. So he blinks, and just decides to be the old version of himself again, not to let the emotions bleed out. He needs to be that someone long forgotten, that shares so little with his current existence. He can’t break down, he can’t. Not now. Maybe never.

When he gets back into the waiting room, he thinks it’s right about time to go back home to Chris. Eddie would want that, even if that means fight his battle alone, now. He leaves his contacts to that kind nurse, he murmurs something, politely to her. He’d be right back, he needs to take care of his friend’s kid. And maybe she says something, she promises to call him as soon as something happens, but he is already taking off, his phone in hand to call an Uber.

Maybe other nightmares will be made of that Uber ride, how to find the right words to tell a kid that his daddy might not come home.

He tries to build a good talk, something empowering and beautiful, about how Eddie is strong, and caring, and will always find his way back to Chris. But the only things that come to his mind are technical and medical words, that sound orotund and big, but also scary like a gunshot. Medical words are something scary, something that carry ominous meanings. As terrifying as grandiloquent, they hold impartial, procedural meaning, but there’s also an implied, underlying meaning, something that hums under the surface of the mere words. Something that talks about death and pain, and smells like blood and detergent, that tic-tocks like the ancient murmur of time.

But the right words, if you have something so heavy to say, must be said with the right mind, with the right heart. It’s the heart that speaks.

And when he gets to Christopher, the kid, always so smart, already knows, just by looking at Buck’s body language that something is off.

Buck crouches in front of the kid and just speaks, softly. “Your dad isn’t coming home tonight”. Maybe forever, he leaves unsaid. And he is about to say something more, something reassuring, something that doesn’t sound frightening, but Chris clings to him, hugging and sobbing, and he loses all his words and the other gear clicks in again and he turns back to his usual self. And there’s that voice, the one he doesn’t want to hear chanting in his head I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. it repeats like a mantra, or some sort of enchantment or a prayer. Emotions bottling up, and kicking on the tap, ready to spill around like a fountain.

So he leans in and hugs Chris tighter, trying to comfort him and to seek comfort for himself.

But then Chris moves his tiny, beautiful head. “You should be with daddy” he says, voice thin and broken. “He needs you more than me”.

And Buck can see, like it’s the first time all over again, how is so easy to love this marvelous, resilient, strong kid.

“Go stay with him, make daddy happy” he murmurs, his voice muffled against Buck plain dark t-shirt. “I want to come… but… hospitals are scary now”.

And Buck nods, tugging Chris closer and closer. “I know, they are”.

“But Daddy is strong. He is going to be home soon, because I know you helped him” he steps back on his trembling knees and blinks a wet smile to Buck.

“I did my best” it’s all Buck can say.

“Dad knows” Chris nods, moving to caress Buck’s face with his tiny hand. “It’s going to be okay, kid”.

And Buck can’t really break now, so he launches forward to hug Chris goodbye and then steps out of the house, leaving him in Pepa’s capable hands.

She says something, it sounds like a recommendation, paternalistic and stentorian, but also like a prayer. And he just nods, maybe his lips don’t tremble that much when he promises her to do his best.

When he gets back to the hospital, there’s still no echo of voices in the waiting room, he moves like a phantom now, like the one thing he didn’t want to be. Not now. He is broken, and he doesn’t have to be like that. He doesn’t get to be broken. Not now. He can’t.

He doesn’t mind how long he stays there. At least the mask filters that classic antiseptic smell that clings on the linoleum. He moves his eyes every time the doors, jolting, a giddiness of pure terror, every single time he sees a doctor passing by.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for the 118 to arrive, for Ana to get to the hospital, for Pepa to get Abuela there. They all start to talk all at once, and Bucks answers, ever polite, because Maddie would be upset if he isn’t polite. They offer him coffee, and he says no thanks. They ask about the situation, and he says the same as before. They ask how does he feel, and he asks he doesn’t have a sucking chest wound.

He just stays there for a while. Eyes open, focused on that tiny little crack in the blue paint of the waiting room, moving from time to time, to the door. Waiting. That’s what you do in waiting rooms.

And at some point, then, his eyes go lost, and his mind gets all blank, so that he doesn’t jolt when the surgeon comes in. But someone moves in the periphery of his field of vision, and he focuses. There’s this tiny woman that’s talking, medical terms, but something, something glimmers in her eyes.

He perceives a movement, in the periphery of his field of vision, he sees Ana and Abuela walk away with someone that looks like a surgeon, and he feels his limbs tremble. His heart throbbing in panic.

The voice, the one he didn’t want to hear, that chanted over and over in his head in Eddie’s house not so long ago, now murmurs something pretty different. All this time wasted, all this time gone. Something like an echo, like a memory, like he could really have hoped that Eddie has seen him the way he's seen Eddie. Something he doesn't even want to put into words. Maybe in another place, in another time, in another lifetime, they'd find each other and live a happy, lovely life together, but if Eddie survives all this, this isn't going to be their happy ending. He has Ana and Buck really can only be the harbinger of terrible memories for him. All this time wasted, all this time gone.

No need to panic. However it goes, he will still love him, but not the way he wants, not the way he doesn't even allow himself to wish. So then he sits back into the plastic chair in that hospital waiting room, blinking his eyes shut, and, well, he waits. He waits for the news to come, whatever it is. He waits for the gear to roll in backwards and shut him down yet once again, closing off and making him the empty vessel he needs to be.

Then Ana comes back in, and something shifts in that room.

Hospital waiting rooms can’t be that packed right now, with COVID-19, so it’s even more unbelievable and nightmarish at the same time. The stillness, the silence, in this moment of the night is kinda scary. And even if there’s people around now, people he knows, all fussing around Ana, now that she’s back in the room, he feels alone.

He just can’t hear what they are saying now, he just can’t fathom why Ana looks so upset, like on the verge of crying upset, and unbelievably relieved at the same time.

Maybe switching off your emotions lowers your empathy too. Well that should be how it works, really, easier. He maybe would live better with just bottling all this shit up. He can do this, bottle up, get his shit together, no reaction, no crying, nothing, no stupid emotions, his heart only trembled when they took Eddie in the ER, and then when he had to talk to Chris. But he can stay there, motionless, hollow, like the Navy SEALS he was so afraid to become. Switching off emotions is easier when something hits you hard. He doesn’t have to react, he can close off, just stop aching. He just doesn’t have the right to ache like that.

But then he hears them calling, Ana calling. He hears her talking. And he needs to focus, so his gear clicks in and he shifts his gaze. “He is asking for you”.

And maybe he moves even before he knows, muscle memory, all over again, and he is in the corridor to his room in a second.

Ana’s heels ticketing after him. “Buck?” he hears her voice calling him.

So he stops mid-step and looks at her.

She stands still, her fingers tap and straighten their grip on the shoulder strap of her bag. “Take care of them. Of Edmundo and Christopher” she says.

And Buck furrows his brows. “I’m just going in so he knows I’m all good, Ana” he replies, again out of consciousness, now his top priority is going to see Eddie now all awake and finally out of that Schrödinger’s box. “I know he would love to be taken care off by a beautiful lady”.

“I don’t make him happy, Buck. All he and Chris do, is talk about their adventures with you… and I don’t know if you know how you make their eyes sparkle bright when they talk about it, about you… you make them happy” Ana explains, and he can see a beautiful smile on her lips, even if it’s covered by a mask, that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Take care of them”.

“That’s not true, Ana… trust me” he tries to say.

“I was only the best, easier, choice he thought I would be. I overheard his conversation with Carla, I didn’t… you know, wanted to change a thing but…” she assures, and it doesn’t get an expert to know that she is feigning this: her voice is plain, and calm, but thin and croaked at the edges. “Go make him happy”.

“I don’t think that’s what he wants, Ana” Buck murmurs. And it’s true, he doesn’t think Eddie wants anything more than friendship from him. They do have a beautiful friendship, in hindsight. The best thing Buck could ever think, but he hasn’t ever really thought about making a move past that point. There’s a thin line he doesn’t want to surpass, that line that might or might not, make their friendship a bit over the PG-rated things. But… well. It’s not that he didn’t think about it. He just wouldn’t have asked for more. That’s not what he does. He has already more than what he bargained for.

But Ana continues, tilting her head, eyes softening a bit. “He asked for you Buck, for you and Chris and I think he was pretty upset when you weren’t there with him, trust me.” she replies, moving forward and giving him a soft pat on his shoulder.

“I─I─I don’t know what to say?” Buck babbles.

Ana shakes her shoulders. “Just go”.

And he doesn’t need to have it repeated again, he starts again in the corridor and finds abuela talking to the surgeon. And she smiles under the facemask, and says something to him, something that he nods politely in response.

When he opens the door to that room, that recovery room, he is taken aback by what he finds there. Even if he knows what he would find there. But there’s no room for that old version of himself now, that one trained to switch down emotions, and every single feeling, good or bad, or whatever you may call them, washing over him like a storm.

The recovery room is an area near the operating room, with all the monitoring equipment and specially trained staff. And he knows what he sees. All the equipment. There’s an intravenous drip, inserted in the back of his hand, that gives him fluids, a surgical drain, that lets all the fluids into a small bottle. And the heart monitor is doing its beep beep sound, at every breath of… Eddie. That’s what he didn’t want to see and yet the first thing he wanted to see.

Eddie is pale, not as pale as he was on the way to the hospital, or while Buck tried to save his life, or while he was bleeding out on the ground. But pale. He has horrible, dark, or more purplish circles under his eyes. The ventilator sticking in his nose and mouth open. There’s still the shadow of his own blood on his own cheek but that will eventually be wiped off very soon.

And Buck moves, and doesn’t look where he is going so he literally walks in the plastic chair that falls over with a loud thud. And Eddie whines a soft, raspy groan.

“-ck?” it’s what comes from Eddie’s mouth.

And Buck swears under his breath. “Shit, oh shit... Sorry, didn’t really want to wake you” he says fast and breathless, his heart clenching in his chest.

“Buck?” Eddie repeats, and it’s a relieved sound, like a sigh, like something long awaited finally got to happen.

And so he moves, he first steps closer to the bed about to sit there, but he really just kicked the chair out, and so he needs to pick it up before moving closer to Eddie. “I’m here, I’m here, Eddie” he says, putting the chair back in place and moving closer to the bed, enough to let Eddie see his face and take his hand between his trembling fingers. “I’ve got you, I’m here”.

And Eddie smiles. A soft, tired smile, and closes his eyes, and seems to swallow painfully. But when he blinks his eyes open he seems more focused, pupils reactive and another smile curves a corner of his mouth, before turning into a tiny grimace.

And before Eddie can say a thing Buck moves and takes the glass of crushed ice and with a spoon helps it to Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie gulps, closing one eye, tightening his grip on Buck’s hand at the same time. “Thank you”.

“You are welcome” Buck answers simply.

“You saved me” Eddie points out, a furrowed brow and a confused expression. “I was… thanking you for that”.

“I’m pretty sure the surgeon has the merit of it all” Buck scoffs.

Eddie rolls his eyes, huffing a little growly sound, that can be some kind of imprecation, all in all. “You had my back” Eddie murmurs, his voice sounds like a tired, broken whisper. And even if focused, his eyes are wet, tired and Buck, god, can’t help but think about that brief chat with Ana, just a few moments ago. He just wants to make him happy, protect his heart and Christopher’s with every beat of his own heart. “You had my back, I knew you were the right one”.

“You are talking nonsense” he chuckles. “Who knew you were such a lightweight for painkillers, or at least you are on the pretty good stuff”.

“You saved me” Eddie repeats, louder. “Take a bit of credit and sit.” and when Buck starts to move, Eddie’s grip on his hand tightens a bit. “Don’t go…”.

“I’m not going anywhere” Buck assures with a tiny snort.

Eddie rolls his eyes, the littlest smirk curling on his lips. “You look like… someone who wants to… flee”.

Buck sighs, a weird, almost whimpering sound, and executes the order, moving back, but not letting go of Eddie’s hand, to bring the chair closer to the bed. He isn’t going to flee, he simply isn’t ready yet to that conversation, to all that amount of different kicking emotions that are moving in his head, in his chest, pooling in the pit of his stomach.

But Eddie doesn’t say anything more. He just looks at Buck, a soft, fond, happy expression on his face for a bit, Buck couldn’t say how long, until Eddie starts to doze off.

“Stay here. Don’t go” he asks and it sounds like a plea, while he closes his eyes and his breath comes even at every movement of his chest, like he is already asleep.

“Rest,” Buck whispers, his lips mouthing a soft peck on the back of Eddie’s hand, right below the bruise of where the IV enters his skin.

“That doesn’t count as a first kiss” Eddie protests.

And Buck scoffs. “You need to take me out to dinner first”.

“… had enough near death situations… we could skip a date…” Eddie whines adjusting his back on his pillow, but doing so he moves his injured shoulder. “Owh”.

“Easy there” Buck recommends.

Eddie looks at him with his wide, brown eyes. Pupils dilated a bit due to the painkillers, maybe. “Stay” Eddie repeats.

“I’ll be here, you’ll find me here when you wake up” he promises.

And Eddie does a thing with his face, a stupid yet fond expression, and hums a pleased sound. “You’d better be. We need to talk”.

When Eddie finally dozes off, Buck heaves a long, wet sigh. He can break a bit now, and come back anew at some point.

#lamalefixwrites #s04x13 coda #does it still count as a coda right?#911 fic #911 spoilers #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #major character injury #angst with a happy ending #angsty anon's tag #askbox always open #buddie fic

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rmnamjoons · 5 years ago

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mobile masterlist!

I’ll update this as I write more, and here’s my ao3!

💖✨ note: everything here is Namjoon x reader smut

completed one-shots:

➳ The Bodyguard — bodyguard AU, 62.9k words

↳ You’re the daughter of the ambassador to a small, peaceful, barely-on-the-map country in Western Europe, working as a diplomat to help your mother with her endless meetings and politics. After a kidnapping attempt gone wrong, you and your protective bodyguard Namjoon are on the run across Europe, jumping from trains, stealing cars, and pretending to be a couple on your honeymoon to stay hidden. As the would-be kidnappers close in, Namjoon promises you that he’s going to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

➳ Love Language — soulmate AU, 14k

↳ Exactly one year before one meets their soulmate, their love’s first words spoken to them appear as a tattoo on their wrist. When Namjoon’s tattoo appears, however, it’s not of words, but of the most beautiful set of eyes he’s ever seen.

➳ Castaways — desert island AU, 25k

↳ You’ve always hated the ocean. Open water terrifies you, and you stay as far away from it as possible for self-preservation and peace of mind. Despite this, your friend somehow convinces you to go on a luxury cruise with her, her boyfriend Hoseok, and Hoseok’s nerdy friend Namjoon, who’s almost cute enough to distract you from your debilitating fears. When a sudden storm hits, however, you and Namjoon are swept overboard and find yourselves castaway on a desert island somewhere in the vast South Pacific.

➳ Pheromones — sci-fi/spaceship AU, sex pollen, 17.5k

↳ As the botanist on a deep-space exploration vessel, you’ve seen your fair share of weird and unexplainable. This large pink alien flower you and your crew picked up on one of the outer terraformed mining planets, however, might just take the cake. You’re pretty sure it’s fine, but you’ve been ordered to study the plant and determine whether or not it’s safe for humans to be around, and you’re having trouble discerning what exactly is inside the alien flower’s bulb that just refuses to bloom. Namjoon — the captain of your ship and the man you’ve been secretly in love with since first joining the Galactic Academy — is eager to help you any way he can, but just as love begins to bloom, so does the alien flower.

➳ Under Your Spell — witch AU, Halloween fic, 25k

↳ You’re a garden witch running a potion business and plant shop, and you might just have a tiny crush on the non-magical man running the bookstore next door. Namjoon is sweet, cute, and handsome, and he actually seems to like you back — but just as the two of you start falling for each other, an evil witch puts a curse on him: unless Namjoon falls in love with her instead, he will break anything he touches forever.

➳ Embrace — best friends to lovers, 3.9k

↳ You and Namjoon have been best friends for years, and you’ve been secretly in love with him basically the entire time. You both love cuddling and being close, much to the amusement of your friends, but to you, being with Namjoon like this means everything. You’ve always believed that Namjoon didn’t feel the same way as you, no matter how much you wanted him to, but maybe there is actually something else behind Namjoon’s cuddles, other than just innocent friendship.

➳ Taking Flight — alien invasion/post-apocalypse AU, pilots, rivals to friends to lovers, 15.2k

↳ More than a decade after the alien invasion that wiped out most of the planet, you and Namjoon are both in the Pilot Cadet Corps, training for if the alien attackers ever come back. What begins as a playful rivalry between two overachievers develops into a deep friendship and emotional bond, but when the aliens suddenly return and you and Namjoon are separated, you find out just what you’re willing to do to get back to him.

➳ The Truth Untold — hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, angst, emotional sex, 10k

↳ You’ve been trapped for months in a loveless, toxic relationship, too afraid of what would happen if you ever tried to leave. Your boyfriend gets so jealous, especially of your best friend Namjoon, who you’ve missed more than your heart can stand. Now, seeing Namjoon for the first time in weeks, you decide that it’s time to tell him everything, no matter the cost.

*******

in progress/indefinitely on hiatus:

➳ Sunshine — read chapter 1 here — slowburn, roommates to lovers

↳ You’re secretly in love with your best friend and roommate Namjoon, and you’re convinced friendship is all you will ever have with him. The two of you go on vacation with Namjoon’s meddling friends, who all constantly insist on trying to set the two of you up. NOTE: This work is currently on permanent hiatus.

#masterlist #mobile masterlist #namjoon smut #my writing #marnie text #*

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years ago

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 9: Follow The Rules]

Hi y’all, I hope you are all doing well 💜

Chapter summary: Veronica has some questions, Roger has a plan, John has a short temper.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, medical stuff, pregnancy.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @bookandband @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

At the wedding, Roger is wearing a cast on his right arm and a dazzling smile...and a white suit that he looks criminally good in.

John is in black, Brian in blue, Freddie in maroon-colored velvet and heavy eyeliner. Veronica’s dress is high-waisted and falls in huge, billowing, shapeless ruffles to hide her silhouette. Her family knows, of course—it’s written all over the tense, grim lines of their mouths and the blades their pale eyes hurl at John—but none of those strict Catholics are going to mention an out-of-wedlock pregnancy in God’s house, nor at the modest reception in the church basement that follows the ceremony.

Veronica’s mother and aunts and sisters are just like her, docile and milky-skinned and small-boned, and you’ve helped them deck the vast room with enough flowers, ribbons, candles, and balloons to make everyone forget this event was thrown together in five weeks and on a shoestring budget. There’s a simple buffet with pot roast and potatoes and vegetables, a live band (some of John’s old friends from high school), and a homemade Polish honey cake baked by Veronica’s grandmother situated regally on a china serving dish. Veronica and John cycle through the tables of guests, smiling and nodding and thanking them for coming, dutifully and yet also seemingly genuinely cheerful.

“The boning is bloody impaling me,” Chrissie murmurs as she tugs at the bodice of her gown. It’s satin and a muted pink, just like yours and Mary’s and Veronica’s sisters’. “If I happen die, wrap me in one of those nice tablecloths I paid for and throw me in a ditch somewhere, will you love?”

“You got it.” You stab a piece of potato with your fork. “This should inspire you to be especially compassionate towards your own bridesmaids! Maybe no horrid shiny green.”

Brian chuckles. “Good luck with that.”

“Are you comfortable?!” Chrissie asks Mary, exasperated, fanning herself with a wedding program.

“I am,” Mary admits cautiously. “But...well...at the moment, I think my dress is a bit...roomier.”

Chrissie moans, dropping her face into her hands. “I always gain when the students go home for summer. My routine is wrecked, all I want to do is read Glamour magazines and listen to records, it’s too damn hot to go walking...and I adore ice cream.”

“I like you just fine,” Brian reassures her.

Freddie snickers as he taps his cigarette against an ashtray. “Yes, we’re all well aware of your anatomical preferences, Bri.”

Chrissie rolls her eyes. “Please do not elaborate.” She’s not offended—she’s far too used to Freddie’s shenanigans to be offended—but she’ll be embarrassed if he makes a scene at a wedding.

“Darling, I don’t care what anyone tries to tell you, plenty of men love a little extra meat on the bones. Particularly the ass bones.”

“We’re in God’s house!” you scold him in a hiss. “You’re going to give Great Aunt Zofia over there an aneurysm if she hears you!”

Roger quips: “Great Aunt Zofia stole the last kielbasa right out of my disabled, ineffectual grasp, so fuck her.”

You all burst into shocked, uncontrollable laughter. Great Aunt Zofia squints judgmentally at the commotion from several tables away, gnawing on her kielbasa; she’s been glaring at John and Veronica—the Tetzlaffs’ very own fallen angel—since she first ambled into the church. Roger rocks back in his chair, smoking with his unbroken left arm, smirking cockily and basking in the distraction from the real world that the wedding has gifted you all tonight. He catches you watching him—marveling at him, truthfully—and winks.

John appears and rests his hands on the back of your chair. “What’s so amusing? I swear, I leave you people alone for two hours and you’re having all sorts of fun without me, I won’t stand for it!”

“It was a lovely ceremony,” you tell him. “I’d forgotten how beautiful Catholic weddings are, all the music and ambiance.”

“And from what I saw, you knew most of the words.”

“We have a lot of Irish people in Boston. Saint Patrick’s Day is bigger than Christmas.”

John points at Roger’s cast. “It’s not paining you too much, is it?”

Roger holds his Dark ‘n Stormy aloft, and ice clinks in the misted glass. “Enough of these, and I can’t feel anything. Numb to the world’s many disappointments. I highly recommend it.”

“Noted,” John replies. Roger has pills for his arm, but they only take the edge off. You don’t know that because he’s told you; Roger never tells you that he’s hurting, that he’s frustrated, that he’s afraid. He wears grins and flippant humor like a second skin, shrouding his wounds—both physical and disembodied, old and new—in darkness. Still...you can see all those words he doesn’t say swimming in the depths of his eyes. “I think I’ll hunt down a Manhattan myself.”

“Dad made an impression!” you tell John enthusiastically. “I’ll have to let him know, he’ll be overjoyed.”

“He mixes a good one, that’s for sure. I doubt Cousin Bartosz will be able to compare.” He casts a glance at a perplexed-looking, flame-haired teenager manning a tiny wet bar.

“Booze won’t help you heal,” Freddie informs Roger, checking his reflection in Mary’s makeup compact and fluffing his lustrous hair. “Eat your vegetables. Get more sleep. When do you start physical therapy, again?” Then, to you: “Darling, when does Roger start his therapy?”

Roger sighs. “I’ve got it handled, Fred.”

“Dear, don’t have a fit, I just want to make sure you’ll be ready—”

“I’ve got it handled,” Roger repeats, his tone a warning.

Brian breaks the tension with a toast, his Vesper jangling against Roger’s Dark ‘n Stormy. “I’m thrilled, honestly. Now I’m not the only one who’s ruined a tour.”

Roger grimaces. “Thanks, Bri.”

“Yes, let’s all have a turn,” Freddie mutters, sipping champagne. “Deaky can electrocute himself while fiddling with his amp, and then I’ll...what? Have my foot chewed off by an alligator in New Orleans? Get gored by a wild boar outside Atlanta? It just can’t be a boring maiming, that’s my only request.”

“Alaska has grizzlies, huge ones,” Brian suggests.

“Darling, in what dimension would my luxurious self ever end up in fucking Alaska?”

You shake your head, frowning down into your wine glass. It’s June now, the dead center of a crestfallen year: the rest of the Sheer Heart Attack Tour is cancelled, the record company is furious, and the band is broker than ever. Queen is supposed to start recording their next album—their last album, the record company insists, unless it happens to be a runaway success—in July, but you don’t know if Roger’s arm will be healed in time. None of you know that. You wonder if this really is God’s house, or at least one of his homes, sanctified piles of bricks and glass scattered across the globe; maybe you could ask Him where Queen’s future lies.

Veronica swoops in and dusts an airy kiss onto Mary’s cheek, and then Chrissie’s, and then yours. “Thank you so much,” she gushes. Her high cheekbones are flushed, her watery eyes sparkling. She’s in heaven, sinner or not. Her massive white dress swishes with every step. “We couldn’t have done it without you. And you’re next, Chris! I can’t wait.”

Chrissie smiles. She and Brian are getting married just before Christmas. “Yes, well, time will tell if we’ll be serving Christmas ham or canned beans.”

“And then Mary...” Veronica’s gaze migrates across the table. Mary’s been wearing a ring on her wedding finger since Queen returned from Japan, a simple gold band that once belonged to Freddie’s mother. “What about you, Y/N? Any plans? Then we’d all be hitched!”

Red wine spurts from your lips and you fumble for a cloth napkin. Roger doesn’t believe in marriage, and neither do you; not after only four months together, anyway. And yet...is there some part of you that can’t help but think of papers and rings when you get lost in his eyes, of promises of forever, of some way to tie yourself to him like vessels to a heart? Sure; and that’s a little wonderful, that’s a little terrifying. “Uh, uh, oh, oh no, definitely no plans whatsoever.”

“What bollocks!” Rog sneers. “Really, what’s the point if you’re not religious? Who needs a bloody piece of paper to prove they love someone?! ‘I care for you so much I need the government to know we’re together and the hassle of divorce fees to make me stay,’ what the fuck. I mean, uh, no offense John, Bri, uh...this is all well and good for you, but...ah...”

“It’s just not your scene. That’s fine, Rog,” Freddie says with a tad too much empathy. Mary doesn’t seem to notice.

“But you’ll want children at some point, won’t you?” Veronica asks you, almost pained. She’s not trying to be cruel, you realize; she genuinely can’t fathom the pinnacle of a woman’s life as anything but being a wife and mother.

“Theoretically, sure. One day. Eventually.” You titter nervously. Roger’s good arm circles your shoulders, his cigarette lofting smoke. Oh, but wouldn’t he make beautiful children? You push that thought away. It’s too soon, it’s too much, it’s not in the cards for an impoverished maybe-drummer and his girlfriend; and a girlfriend—with all the intangibility and impermanence that title entails—is all I’ll ever be. “I think I need to travel the world a bit more first.”

John sighs and pats the back of Veronica’s hand. What is that weight in his voice...impatience? Annoyance? “Ronnie, please, don’t bother her.”

Veronica sulks, scraping the old scuffed linoleum floor with her pointy white heels. “I wasn’t trying to bother anyone...”

Mary comes to the rescue: “No, of course not. You didn’t, dear.” She likes Veronica more than Chrissie does. Isn’t she oppressively vapid? Chrissie has asked you more than once. Isn’t she so miserably naïve? Veronica is sweet, sure, but she has no fucking idea what she’s in for. “Babies are wonderful, but they do make things harder, don’t you think? Especially for the mother. You have to be ready to drop everything for them. All your other interests and aspirations.”

“I suppose,” Veronica mumbles. You can tell she’s thinking: What other aspirations?

“But you must be so excited!” You beam up at Veronica. It’s her wedding day, and John’s; it should be happy, it should be optimistic. And you’re learning to like Veronica—less than Mary, but more than Chris—because you know that’s the best thing for John.

She instinctively rests her hand on the swell of her belly; or, rather, where it must be somewhere beneath all those heaps of satin and tulle. Great Aunt Zofia’s glare intensifies. “I’m scared to death, to tell you the truth.”

“Why?!” Mary cries.

“I’m so afraid something will happen to him.” Veronica’s voice is soft, her blue eyes glassy. She’s certain the baby is a boy, claims she had some sort of dream about it. “There’s a lot of bad luck going around for us, isn’t there? And my mother lost four babies. Any time he stops moving, I worry constantly until my next appointment. I haven’t felt anything in days, and I just...I just...” She trails off, staring vacantly across the crowded church basement. She’s trying not to cry, you realize.

“I can try to check for you,” you offer. “If it would make you feel better.”

“Really?” Veronica sounds hopeful, but guardedly so.

“This is embarrassing, but I carry my nurse kit almost everywhere I go now. That’s why I brought my huge blue purse even though it doesn’t match the dress. You know, you can’t be too careful...”

“Yes, who knows when someone will try something idiotic like jogging backwards down the stairs?” Freddie muses. Roger lobs a pierogi at him. Great Aunt Zofia wheezes out a disgusted huff and crosses her veiny, wrinkled arms over her sagging chest.

“I have a stethoscope,” you continue. “I can’t guarantee I’ll find a heartbeat, but I’ll give it a try if that would help.”

“Would you, Y/N?” Veronica clutches for John’s hand, and he lets her take it without any resistance; but he doesn’t seem to know how to comfort her. He has the same dazed look on his face that he has a lot these days, the same look that Bri and Freddie sometimes get: like they’re on autopilot, like they’re actively filtering through brainwaves to fish out any that wander astray. Roger lands a kiss on your bare shoulder and pitches you a playful smirk, his I’m so proud of my too-fucking-smart girlfriend smirk.

You grab your purse from beneath the table. “Does God’s house have a cozy private spot somewhere?”

Veronica leads you, Mary, and Chrissie to a small unoccupied room that is used (how pertinently) as the church nursery. The pink wallpaper is dotted with waddling ducklings, cloud-shaped sheep leaping over fences, smiling suns and winged cartoonish angels. Veronica settles into a faded blue couch, and Mary and Chris help her shove aside the massive plumes of her wedding dress to reveal the plain shift she’s wearing underneath. She’s over five months along now, and her entirely unremarkable bump seems colossal on her delicate frame.

You pop the headset into your ears and press the chestpiece against Veronica’s unyielding belly, gliding it over the pearly shift as you try different positions.

“Anything?” Mary asks anxiously.

“It’s not bloody instant, Mary!” Chrissie snaps. “Be quiet so she can listen.”

“No need to be cranky—”

“You can’t find a heartbeat, can you?” Veronica says, her voice quivering. “Oh god...”

“Found it,” you announce. You hold the chestpiece in place as you yank the headset off and pass it to Veronica.

She gapes at you. “You’re just saying that so I’ll stop worrying, aren’t you?”

“Hear for yourself.”

Veronica takes the headset and listens, closing her eyes as the rapid-fire and rhythmic swishing of her child’s heartbeat floods through her ears. “Oh,” she breathes, beaming. “There he is.”

“That’s incredible!” Mary trills. “Can I hear too, Veronica? Whenever you’re finished...”

Mary listens, and Chrissie does too, and then you all help touch up Veronica’s hair and makeup before you head back to the reception. The cake is due to be cut in twelve minutes. As you smooth the short train on her dress, Veronica turns back to you.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” she asks timidly, hugging her belly. “You know...for this.”

“That’s something I’ve always liked about nursing. So many jobs require sorting out who’s right and wrong, casting judgment, assigning punishment. There’s no weighing of the moral scales in medicine. It doesn’t matter if a patient is trustworthy, deceitful, good, bad, worthy, undeserving, if they disappoint you, if they’re the ones who hurt themselves. You treat everyone, you heal everyone. And I would like to keep that part of myself for as long as I can.” You smile at Veronica. “But, for the record, no. I don’t think you’re a bad person at all.”

She sighs in relief, untethering an anchor she hadn’t even known she’d been dragging around by her throat. “Thank you,” she whispers, tears snaking down her powdered ivory cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on.”

“How do you feel about marble lion statues? You know, the ones at the end of long, winding driveways. Rich people’s driveways. Mansion driveways. Or do you prefer gargoyles?”

“Roger.”

He groans, grins, presses his right fist into your palm. You measure the force with your mind, with your muscle memory. He’s stronger than he was yesterday, the day before, last week. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Rog teases. “You’ve got a soft spot for damaged people. Helpless people. That’s why you warmed to Brian so quickly. He was lying there all gaunt and jaundiced and terrified, and you just couldn’t resist, you just had to make sure all his wildest dreams came true.”

“I have a soft spot for self-destructive musicians who end up in hospitals, evidently.” Your gaze cruises over the scar on Roger’s forearm where the surgeons popped his bones back into place, stabilized them, stitched the ragged gore closed. You hate looking at it; you hate reminders of how mortal Roger really is.

“I want lions,” Rog decides. “For the driveway of our eventual mansion. I like the Leo connection.”

“And the Queen crest connection.”

His grin widens, toothy and radiant. “See, I knew you were the love of my life.”

“Come on. Again.”

He winces this time. “Doesn’t hurt a bit.”

“Uh huh. I bet.” You’ve slathered his fresh blisters with numbing antiseptic ointment, iced his arm, administered pain medicine, allowed him the constant sips of alcohol necessary for him to work, to drum, to sleep. But he still hurts. You imagine he hurts all the fucking time.

It’s August now, and Queen is recording their fourth album at Rockfield Farm. You and Roger are sitting by the pool as Freddie splashes around in the clear chlorine-smelling water trying to get John’s attention. John, meanwhile, is lounging on an inflatable raft, wearing black sunglasses and most likely asleep. Brian circles the pool snapping photos with your Canon F-1.

“I have a plan,” Roger informs you as he starts his stretches without prompting. He knows the drill, even if he likes to be difficult about it.

“By all means, enlighten me.”

“Fred’s thing, the weird one. It has a name now.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah. Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Oh, it’s perfect!” You try to stay out of the band’s business decisions as much as possible; it’s not your expertise, and it’s not your place, and there are already a few too many creative chefs in that kitchen. Still, you love when they share their magic with you. “Eccentric, whimsical, exhilarating. Just like the song. Just like Queen.”

“I’m so glad you approve. We’re going to make sure it’s the first single off the album. And I know exactly what song’s going to be on the B-side. Freddie and Bri don’t know yet, but I do.”

“Sounds like they’re going to murder you when they find out.”

“I’ll convince them.” His grin is crafty, daring. “Picture it: you’ve just finished the incomparable experience that is Bohemian Rhapsody. You’re a newly converted Queen enthusiast. What could possibly come next? You flip the record over. And the virile, screeching, pure rock and roll passion of I’m In Love With My Car is there to greet you.”

“Oh my god, Roger.” You shake your head in mock mourning. “They actually are going to murder you.”

“Listen, love, BoRhap is going to be a hit. I can feel it.”

“Sure,” you agree lukewarmly. You want to be supportive, you really do. But disappointment stings more than resignation.

“It will be,” Roger maintains, unmovable. “And it’ll sell mountains and mountains of singles...and with my song on the B-side, I’ll get half the royalties. Which means we’ll get half the royalties.”

“Which is how we end up with the hypothetical mansion.”

“I’m being serious.” Roger picks up his mini barbell weights from the water-splattered concrete and begins his bicep curls, flinching each time he lifts his right fist.

“Rog—”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I’m going to make this happen. I’m going to get rich so I can provide for my family. You know about that, you know it’s on my list. And my family includes you now.”

“I don’t need a mansion, Roger.” I just need you. You stare at his right arm worriedly. “Are you sure—?”

“I’m fine!” he shouts, and you recoil. Brian peers over from where he’s taking pictures of blooming purple foxgloves. Instantly, Roger regrets it. “I’m sorry,” he says, setting down the barbells and cradling your face with his rough, bandaged hands. “I have to be fine, you know? I don’t have a choice. If I can’t play, I can’t be in the band. If I leave, John will leave too, and that’ll be the end of everything. Or worse, John will break the pact and stay and they’ll find a new drummer and forget all about me. Sail off into some blissful new future. And where will I be? Moping as I drag myself back to dental school? Becoming a freaking lab biologist? Resigning myself to being some excruciatingly ordinary bloke, someone who climbed just far enough out of Cornwall to know everything he’s missing out on?”

You try to imagine who Roger would be without the band, but you can’t. You’ve never known a pre-Queen Roger. “No,” you say, amused. “You’ll never be just some ordinary bloke. You’re too brilliant, too determined. Even if you do have a dodgy arm.”

He kisses you, and you can feel his lips curling into a smile beneath yours. “So you’ll let me buy you a mansion.”

“If you get I’m In Love With My Car on the B-side, and BoRhap is a hit, and Freddie and Bri don’t smother you with a pillow in your sleep...yes, you can buy me a mansion. Buy us a mansion.”

He winks, his sapphire eyes glinting in the late-summer sunlight. “Watch out, baby. I get everything I want eventually.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s done,” John tells the others as he passes out copies of his new song, the second he’s ever written. There are only four sheets of crisp white paper; as you watch from the studio couch, you wonder what the song is about, why he didn’t mention it to you.

“It’s done?!” Brian yelps. “What do you mean, it’s done?! Nothing’s ever done after the first pass! That’s how it works, that’s how it always works, someone suggests something and then we all dice it and slice it and flip it around and stitch it back together like the world’s most maniacal surgeons, and then, only then, maybe, it’s done.”

You glance up from where you’re sewing an eleventh patch onto Roger’s jeans. “Must we disparage the medical profession?”

“Sorry, love,” Roger tosses to you with a laugh.

“It’s done,” John repeats.

“Deaky, darling,” Freddie ventures gently. “We should endeavor to keep our minds open to collaboration—”

“Oh, should we, Fred?!” Bri exclaims. “How extraordinary, you never seem to encourage collaboration when it’s your song on the cutting floor!”

“Okay space boy, you listen here—”

“‘I’m happy at home’?!” Roger reads, revolted. “We’re not the bloody Bee Gees, Deaks!”

John explains measuredly and patiently, as if to a child: “That’s the way it goes. We record it as it is or not at all.”

“That’s not how we do things,” Brian mutters, deep frown lines chiseled through his face as he scans the lyrics.

“Then just fill the album with your and Fred’s songs like you always do, I’m sure that’ll keep me and Roger loyal.”

Brian glares at John. John stares back stoically, his eyes like steel. Brian looks to Roger for support; Roger lights a cigarette and pretends not to notice.

“Darling, please, you’re not being reasonable!” Freddie pleads.

“I need it.” John turns to Roger now. “I need it to stay the way it is.”

Rog just watches him for a while, exhales smoke, shrugs. “Okay,” he says at last.

“Okay?!” Brian howls. “What do you mean, okay?!”

“He said he needs it,” Roger replies simply.

Bri throws his hands into the air. “Bleeding christ! ‘He needs it.’ What rubbish! Do something, Fred!”

“Oh relax, darling.” Freddie sashays to the microphone and points to Brian’s Red Special. “Let’s try it out.”

“But—!”

Roger claps Brian on the back as he trots by him towards the drum kit. “Come on, Bri. Big smiles. Just picture the nice shiny pounds from all those album sales plinking into your bank account. You’ll have fifty Christmas hams at the wedding, one for every guest.”

You listen passively from the couch as they rehearse, trying not to let on that you’re paying attention, trying not to overstep. But you can’t help being struck by the lyrics, feeling the somberness of Freddie’s voice and John’s tentative notes on the electric piano slink into your bones; because it sounds so familiar, because it echoes so many things that John has told you.

When Queen takes a mid-afternoon break and John slips into the kitchen for a Coke, you follow him.

“Hey John?”

“Yeah.” He rests his hands on the dining room table. They’re sturdy and unmarred and completely unlike Roger’s; and you aren’t sure why you notice this, but you do.

“I completely understand if I’m being intrusive, and if I am please just tell me to shut up and I will.”

He chuckles. “You’re never intrusive. Go ahead.”

“I was just wondering...who is You’re My Best Friend about?”

Now his smile evaporates. “No one in particular,” he says briskly. “It’s just a song. Just something to put on the album. Maybe a single one day. A soulless royalties grab.”

That seems unlikely. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He takes a swig of Coke, peers down at the table, traces swirls of centuries-old oak with his fingertips.

“It’s just...you know...well...it kind of sounded like...maybe it was about me.”

He looks up. And for the first time, John levels some of his infamous, razored words at you: “Don’t be such a fucking narcissist.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, John doesn’t apologize. But he smiles at you over tea, offers to clean off the fingerprints of strawberry jelly that Roger left on the Canon, splashes you from the pool as you sunbathe beneath lapis August skies. And you agree, wordlessly and unconditionally, to forgive him. Because John is your best friend, whether or not you’re still his.

Nine weeks later, Bohemian Rhapsody is released as a single. (And, as promised, Roger ensures that I’m In Love With My Car is on the B-side.)

Twelve weeks later, Bohemian Rhapsody reaches the #1 spot on the UK Singles Chart, and remains there for over two months.

Fifteen weeks later, A Night At The Opera becomes the #1 album in the UK.

Fifteen weeks later, Queen’s future is suddenly crystal clear.

#queen fic #roger taylor fic

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