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planetdemon · 4 years ago

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I just wanted to be a swan

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: angst, fluff, but mostly angst

warnings: low self-esteem, body hate/dislike, eating disorders, swearing, food, insecurities, arguing DONT READ IF YOU DON'T FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH IT!

wc: 2.003

note: so this scenario has been going through my head for quite a while now, and I tried writing it by myself lol. Hope it's good ;) I've also sent a request to @channienet about the same topic, so make sure to check her interpretation out as well! enjoy!

summary: Due to Chan's heavy working schedule, spending time alone was a thing you couldn't quite befriend with, especially after you've noticed some changes you have gone through. There is a to change it, but it isn't quite... let's say healthy. How will Chan react, after he finds out? Will he even care? (dude I'm shit at writing summary lol)

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Taking a bath was normally something that should be considered relaxing or calming. You've always enjoyed letting the hot water surround your body whilst taking all the dirt and negativity off that you have collected during stressful days at work.

But lately, taking a bath wasn't as enjoyable anymore as it once was. Chris has been working a lot lately, due to the kingdom stage and their nearing comeback. He has been spending more and more time at the company, working on producing new tracks for him and the kids, often staying at the dorms because they were closer to the studio than the apartment you shared. So you were left alone, by yourself.

Even though you wished he would be by your side while you were falling asleep, you couldn't be mad at him. You knew what his work meant to that boy and you would never tell him to stop doing what he loves just so you could spend some time together.

But being alone also meant that you had to kill the boredom somehow and, thanks to Felix's Brownie and Cookie recipes, you had the perfect thing to do in the meantime. Baking and eating delicious desserts.

You were just stepping out of the bathtub, grabbing the towel you had prepared, and drying yourself with it. Once your body was half-dried, you turned around to hang the towel back at the hanger, so it could dry properly.

And at that moment, you knew, you've fucked up. You couldn't avoid looking at your wet, naked body in the hot, steamy mirror near the hangers.

You always hated looking at it, but thanks to the sweets you had been eating lately, looking at yourself only made you feel sicker than it ever did.

You couldn't tear your gaze off the excess of flesh around your tummy and thighs and the stretch marks, that decored your boobs only seemed to scream "Look at me!". You slowly turned around and saw the tiger stripes creeping up your bum and the undersides of your arms.

'Fucking disgusting', that little voice in your head sneered.

'How could I let this come this far?', you thought. At this point, you were somehow happy Chris wasn't here, knowing he would be disgusted with how you've changed.

You've always felt a bit insecure by his side, knowing you could catch up with neither his attractiveness nor his muscular godlike body. But seeing yourself like this destroyed every little self-esteem you had left in your cells.

It has been nearly two months since 'the incident' in the bathroom and you couldn't shake that feeling of disgusts off. Not even for one second.

You only wanted to try a one-week detox diet that was blowing up all over social media, hoping you could lose a little bit of weight, so you would be back to normal. But seeing the numbers on the scale dropping so unbelievably quickly only made you realize that you could look even better than you thought you could.

You kept on following the diet and restricting everything that wasn't included, not noticing that restricting also damaged your mind.

One time, Han and Felix asked you if you wanted to have lunch with them and the others, but fear crept up you back as soon as you thought about the food they would have ordered, knowing that you would only gain weight again if you didn't follow the rules.

So you stayed home, keeping yourself isolated from your friends and most importantly, Chan.

You were lying on my bed, scrolling through Tumblr when Chris' Caller ID showed up and your phone started to ring. You sighed lowly, not wanting to talk to him.

Over the past few months, you stopped showing up at the studio, being afraid the boys would notice the changes your body went through, thanks to the diet. You were happy about it, knowing that you were losing weight, but you haven't reached my goal. You were afraid, they would judge you the way you did when you looked at yourself.

"Chris?"

"y/n? Han just told me that you weren't coming over. Are you okay? Y-" Chris's muffled voice appeared and you felt instant regret deep in your guts, knowing how much fun you guys had when you spent time together back in the days.

"Yeah, I'm okay Channie, don't worry. I just feel a little sleepy. I'll come next time. Promise" You tried your best to sound optimistic or at least not too sad, hoping Chris would believe your lie. "Okay," he mumbled, "I love you, baby girl".

You knew you were in big troubled the second Chris opened the fridge, seeing no food in there.

He randomly decided to stay over the weekend, saying that he missed you. You weren't ready for this, knowing that you couldn't hide the signs of the 'passion' you had developed in time.

"Why is there no food?" You fumbled with the arms of Chris sweater you were wearing while looking at the ground. "I've forgotten to go grocery shopping" You answered.

"But there is nothing in there, y/n. Nothing" He walked over and took hold of your cold hands while looking you straight in the eyes.

"Why is there no food?" Chris asked again.

"I just told you I forgot to go grocery shopping, Chan. Relax" You snapped back, getting anxious about the fact that he could notice something.

You were nearing your goal, even though you knew that you could never be satisfied with how you looked. He couldn't just come over and ruin all the progress you've made after being not here for so long. He doesn't have the right to do this.

"Don't fuck around, y/n. You always have at least some butter in your house. Where is the butter? Where is Ramen? You must have some food here!"

Your body started to shake as you heard his voice rise, keeping your gaze low, not daring to look him in the eyes right now. He was right.

You always had something at home, so you could quickly cook something when you were hungry. But you didn't saw a point in keeping food at home if you wouldn't eat it anyway. It would just rot.

"Y/n look at me" he whispered, after realizing that you were trembling. Chris gently grabbed your chin to make you look up at him. You were expecting to see anger, but the only thing you saw in his brown orbs was sadness.

You started to tear up after you noticed it, knowing that he put one and one together. You missing out on lunch with the boys, you not showing up at the studio to bring him food and spend with him there, listening to his tracks, you not having any food at home. It was obvious, but you still hoped he wouldn't notice.

Chris slowly took you in his arms, noticing how your figure felt smaller and bonier than before. It made him sick, knowing what you did to yourself. 'Why would my girl do something like this?' he thought 'how could my little princess torture herself this much?' But he couldn't find a 'because'.

In his eyes, you were the best thing that happened to him. You were the prettiest girl on earth. Warm tears were running down his pale cheeks, dropping to the floor.

He couldn't stop blaming himself for what you did. Maybe if he would have been there, he could have stopped you. Maybe if-

"Channie?" You quietly asked, looking up at his tear-stained cheeks. "Channie why are you crying? We can go to the store and grab something if you want. You don't-"

"Why have you been doing this to yourself, y/n?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why haven't you been eating"

Well, shit.

"What are you talking about, Channie?"

"Don't fucking lie to me, it's too obvious for you to do so. Why haven't you been eating?"

"I... I, I'm pressured Chan" You answered, knowing that he wouldn't believe you if you would tell him otherwise. Telling him the truth was the only option at this point, even though you didn't want to.

"Pressured?"

"Yes"

"Princess, I don't understand what you mean by that"

You shook your head and let go of him, before walking over to the couch and sitting down with a low sigh. "Maybe you shouldn't understand," I said.

"Jesus, y/n" I heard him mutter under his breath. He walked over and sat on the floor, in front of you, looking at you with a scared expression.

"Please tell me what's in that pretty little head of yours. I can see that you have lost weight, but I don't understand why. I mean, you are the prettiest human I have ever seen in my whole life, why would you do something like that?"

"Why do you even care? It's not like you here anyway" you simply said, grabbing your phone, trying to ignore him.

After he noticed your intentions, he quickly took your phone out of your hands, placing it on the coffee table behind him.

"Hey! Give me my phone back, you dump a-"

"Fucking stop it, y/n. Stop ignoring me. I care for you because I love you! You are my everything and I know I haven't been home lately, but at least I tried making time for you and inviting you to the studio", he said, "but you never came! Don't act like it's only my fault we haven't seen each other."

You looked at him with wide eyes, shaking your head. He was right, it was also your fault. And you hated the fact that he was right. "I-"

"Please y/n, please stop turning away from me and closing up. I-I know it's not easy to open up, but I'm here for you. I'll always be."

"Well, I... I couldn't, no, I can't feel happy when I look like this, Channie. I mean, look at you, look at your perfect body and your perfect personality and your perfect everything! I don't fit in. I don't fit in, because I am the ugly duck surrounded by beautiful swans. I just... wanted to be a beautiful swan, Channie."

That's it. You've made it. You've told him what was going through your mind all the time.

He slowly pulled you off the couch, into his lap. He could feel your seat humps against his thighs, how bony and strong they were. Chris shook his head in disbelieve, another wave of sadness crushing over him.

"You are perfect, baby girl. You are perfect in every single way. You always were the most beautiful swan I have ever seen in my entire life. I love everything about you, y/n. I love how your thighs wiggle whenever you run towards me when we meet, I love how curves look in that dress I brought you a year ago, I love how your stretch marks are decorating your body like silverish paint. I don't want you to change for me, because you are perfect the way you are. Jesus, even Hyunjin said you are even prettier than himself, and that means a lot. Please don't hurt yourself like this, princess. You are destroying yourself"

He took hold of your hands and kissed your palm.

"I promise I'll stop working so much, so I can spend more time with my beautiful girlfriend, but please... stop hurting yourself" he whispered, searching for any signs of discomfort in your eyes. But you just set in his lap and listened to him.

"Hyunjin thinks I'm prettier than him?" you asked awkwardly.

Chris chuckled and nodded "Is this the only thing that got stuck in your pretty little head?" He asked.

You smiled a bit, leaning your forehead against his while closing your eyes. "I'll try to get better, Chris" you whispered.

It wouldn't be an easy journey going back to 'normal. Once the hole is there, digging is difficult. But it is possible, especially if someones helping you.

#bang chan imagines #bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #bang chan images #skz imagines #skz chan #skz angst #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #bangchan fanfic #fanfic #x you #x reader

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fandomscombine · 4 years ago

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Heartbreak Woman [Cho/Cedric Ending]

Warning: Angst! Brokenhearted!Reader

WC:1454

I proposed 3 varying endings and the response was across the board so I decided why the heck not write ALL 3 choices!

a/n: I haven't been active on tumblr this past month. Motivation to read & write wasn't really there. Feelin pretty crap. I don't think it's my best work- I actually wrote this ending last month but delay posting it since I promised to post all 3 endings back to back- but with the recent burnout, my progress is slow. Proofread it and push the insecurities & anxieties away and here we are. Love was put into this, I hope you enjoy it! Don't worry, the other 2 endings are on the way.

I tried posting this 9 times now and it keeps saying error. this is me testing it with mobile so formatting is hard but I hope it posts

BG: You were hoping that your best friend, Cedric to ask you to the Yule Ball. Instead you were roped into helping him ask Cho out. It broke your heart, but at least this way while helping him out you could pretend that he was doing all the sweet things to you. On the other side of the picture, Harry was too heartbroken upon learning that Cho is going out with Cedric.

Read the main story before it diverges ending here!

>>>Heartbreak Woman [Main]

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Did Harry Potter really just ask you out and you said yes?

Touching your forehead, it wasn’t bleeding anymore but there is still a slight sting to it from the collision with Harry’s broom. Yes. That definitely happened. You thought to yourself, this isn’t some delusion from the injury.

This is good. This is good. Hyping yourself up. You enjoy his company and that should be enough to stop your thoughts from going about a certain Hufflepuff boy. The same boy you had abruptly left alone in the greens. It’s not his fault nor it is Cho’s for wanting to date each other. You have nothing against them, they are both such lovely and kind people and not to mention popular- it was only a matter of time that they got together, Hogwarts’ Power Couple.

No, it’s just you and your stupid feelings falling for your best friend and agreeing to help with the courtship.

‘Y/n? Hii.” The voice reels you back to reality.

You blinked. “Cho! Hi!” Greeting her loudly had been taken by surprise. You dial down your volume. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s actually what you did, really… I just wanted to say thank you.”

You were confused, why was she thanking you?

“For helping Cedric I mean” She clarified. “He mentioned that you helped him with the picnic idea. It was very sweet. It was what made me finally say yes.”

“That’s awesome.” You force yourself to smile. “I’m glad you guys are together, I can finally get that git to stop bothering me with date ideas. That’s 3 weeks of my life I’m not getting back!” There was some truth to that statement, now that she and Cedric are together you don’t have to go through the pain of practice dates with Cedric.

“You y/n are the absolute wingwoman! Legend material!” Cho praised. “You're like my fairy godmother!” She continues, wrapping you into an embrace.

“yayyyy….That’s me…” You mumble into her luscious hair. Grateful that Cho couldn’t see your face. Pulling apart, you don’t let her go quite yet. With hands on her shoulder, you stare unwavering. “Just don’t break his heart yea? He’s really smitten by you, promise you won’t hurt him.”

Cho is taken aback a bit, your words clearly coming from a strong emotional bond with the boy. Thoughts of love, Eros, passed through her mind but brushed it away - It can’t be y/n help them get together. Y/n’s words must come from Philia love, y/n and Cedric had been best friends since before they could talk! Everyone knows that. They have a soul connection that can’t be replicated. “I promise.”

14th February.

Valentine’s Day.

This holiday sucks.

No, not for the reason that you’re single. Nah.

Today is a downer as you won’t be able to do your annual tradition.

See every since 3rd year you and Cedric would be in a pink ensemble outfit complete with red heart sunglasses. Spreading chants of self love and showering fellow single students and professors with compliments. This all started out when your roommates teased you for not having a date for Valentine’s day. When Cedric had heard about it, he went all out. The boy basically made sure that every single person knew how wonderful, beautiful and intelligent you are.

It was this day onwards that 2 things happened.

Complementing and advocating for self love, Philautia, in a pink get up became an annual Valentine’s tradition. (Even a couple of students joined the cause, expanding from you just both into an association/group of sorts.)

You started to see Cedric in a new light. In other words, you were falling in love with your best friend.

Scanning the Great Hall for pink cladded pupils, you were glad that the group had saved you a seat however a certain Hufflepuff was out of sight. Taking a deep breath, you cleared your head. Get it together y/n. Today is about sharing love and do NOT think about Cedric and Cho going on a romantic date in Hogsmeade.

You were about to take a step forward when-

“Argh!” Shutting your eyes as the hall spun around.

“Relaxx!! Relax! It’s just me.”

Feet back on solid ground, you turned towards the perpetrator, the one boy you did not want to see right now. “What the fuck Ced! Don’t scare me like that!”

“I’m sorry…” Cedric raises his arms in surrender. “Is everything alright?”

“Yea everything’s fine.”

Cedric raises a brow. You forget that this boy can see through your bullshit.

“Only had a couple hours of sleep, that’s all.” It wasn’t a lie, in fact you’d only gotten 3 hours of rest last night, it was just the case of omitting that his upcoming date with Cho was the reason for your restlessness. You don’t want to blame it on jealousy, but it is.

Grabbing hold of your hand, he pulls you towards the group. "Alright then, I've got some spare sleeping potion if you need."

You wave to your fellow singles as you sit down."uh..thanks Ced." You couldn't stop vocalizing your confusion as to why Cedric is still right next to you. Normally you wouldn't complain, but today was Valentine's Day.

"Ouch y/n!" Cedric sassed, eyes focused on piling food onto his plate." Just because I have a girlfriend now doesn't mean I would disappear on my best girl."

My best girl. It hurts to be called that in another context than you wanted.

"Don't you have a date with Cho today?"

"Yea but Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop doesn't open until 11am. Which gives me time for our annual Valentine's tradition!"

"But you're taken."

"Yes….but I could still help spreading the love!" Cedric glanced around. "No one minds that I come to join you right?"

A murmur of Nos filled your eyes.

"Haha! See I told you!" Cedric brags, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Looks at you straight in the eyes, those gorgeous grey irises melting away your defenses."You can't get rid of me that easily." He whispers, loud enough only for you to hear. You could feel the heat filling up your face due to his closeness. Too busy lost in the rapid beats of your heart, you failed to notice his face getting even closer.

A softness like cotton grazes your cheek.

Cedric kissed you!

Your mind is close to being short circuited. The area of where Cedric's lips were a nanosecond ago is cold as ice. The cold contrasted with your now burning hot, blushing face.

You could live in this forever. All external environments quiet, blocked out of focus. Cedric's arms around you while the butterflies in your stomach bursts out, occupying your whole body with sheer giddiness from having his lips on you.

But the daydream breaks.

"Hey Love! You ready?"

"Morning!" He greets, kissing her. "Uh…" It's only 9:34am. You nod, silently telling him that it was okay to miss your annual tradition. You weren't expecting any quality time today, yet he managed even if it was just for breakfast. "Yea.. give me 10 minutes to go change and I'll pick you up at the courtyard?"

"Sounds great. Be quick cause I miss you already!"

"Sure will sweetheart." He pecks her lips again then waves goodbye to the table and he's off, running.

The tension changes once Cedric is gone.

"Can I talk to you outside y/n?"

"uh yeah" Once outside. "What's up?" Trying to sound casual. Cho inviting you to speak privately isn't usual-seeing that you were the couple's go to accomplice for surprises.

"I see the way you look at him."

"I'm sorry?"

"I know.you like him. y/n. I know you like Cedric."

"Cho.. you can't be serious, he's my best friend!"

"I wasn't sure then.but just now..the way you act around him. the way you look at him. y/n is undeniable. It’s so obvious-I had assumptions then but everyone just brushes it off as your childhood friend with each other. heck even both of you say that."

"Cho…."

"I didn't bring this up before because I felt insecure, jealous even that I can't live up to the standard of relationship you and Cedric have.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. There were too many revelations bombarding you all at once, that you are having trouble processing what is going on.

“But I am tired of what ifs and worrying.” Voice quivering, she continues. “You've got to tell him, y/n."

The words snap you back into place.

"Cho… I can't. I can't ruin your relationship."

If you love someone and they love someone else, you let them go.

Everything Taglist :@gruffle1

HP Taglist:@onlyfreds

Heartbreak woman Tagist:

@joalinbenefits @the-natureofme @romanoffs-heart @justmesadgirl @plumso @gleefulleve @wolf-phoenix-lover @ceofcedric @savvy7392 @cedricsfluffyhair @thewayilookatbacon @LIONLIKEWOLFLIKE @mellifluous-cosmos

#cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory angst #cedric diggory fluff #cho chang #harry potter x reader #cedric diggory imagines #cedric x cho #cedric diggory x cho chang #fandomscombine writes

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digital-corruption · 4 years ago

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My partner has been nosy since I kicked him off tumblr (he was cramping my style and trying to take credit). So the other day he was asking what I was writing, "Are they doing something sexy?"

"No, they're going shopping for their apartment," I beamed.

"Oh God, if she's anything like you, that's going to go on for like 20 chapters!"

"I kept it to 1!!!"

Just so we're all clear.

Haunted by the Past Part 37

The sun had just set when we, in our usual facemasks, walked up to Cleo outside our new flat.

“Hey, so I haven’t told Mrs. Gardner anything about you, but if she does find out, well she and her wife were big hippies in their day. Protesting governments is what they did best. So I know they’ll be sympathetic to your cause,” Cleo smiled. “Honestly, you won’t find more open-minded landlords.”

“Thanks Cleo,” I smiled.

Cleo led us into the small apartment building and up to the third floor. I heard a door open on the bottom floor and looked down to see an older woman looking up at me. She waved and I waved back.

“What did you tell her?” I asked quietly.

“Uh, that my friend is looking for a place in Duskwood? Was I meant to come up with something more elaborate?” Cleo looked at me confused.

I laughed, “No, that’s ok. Lilly’s story was getting out of hand.”

Cleo handed me the keys and I opened the door to our new apartment. It was a small two bedroom, one bathroom flat with a small kitchen and open plan living space. It was such a nice, simple layout.

Normal people would check out the master bedroom first. Jake went to check his would be “office". The apartment was empty though except for basic appliances.

“We need furniture,” I sighed.

Cleo checked her phone, “There’s still time before the discount furniture shop closes. They've got a big sale on at the moment.”

“We can’t exactly go shopping like normal people,” I pointed out.

“Well he can’t, but you could probably get away with wearing a hat and if I go with you, no one will think twice about it,” Cleo offered.

I looked back at Jake for his opinion. He sighed, “We do need furniture if we’re living here for any length of time. It'll still be cheaper than the cabin overall. Just don’t go crazy.”

“I’m just going to get the basic necessities,” I promised.

“I'll drive you and stay in the car,” I now understood that to be Jake code for ‘I’m going to hack into the CCTV and make sure you’re safe. When you’re done, I’m going to wipe the evidence just to be safe.’

“Ok, great! This is going to be fun!” Cleo smiled. “I’ll send you the address and meet you there!” Cleo waved and went for the door.

Jake gave me a concerned look, “Do I need to tell you to be careful? You’re not an average citizen anymore.”

“Hey, this is what we’re aiming for, isn’t it? For me to be able to move around in public as Maeve, to do things you can’t do? I need to practice and Cleo will be with me,” I reassured him.

Cleo was standing by her car when we drove up. Jake parked at the back of the lot and then handed me a wad of cash.

“This is a lot, Jake,” I frowned.

“I want to make sure you have enough and don’t forget, I need a sizable desk,” he smiled.

“Yes, yes, I’ll get you the best money can buy. I'll skip the bed if I have to,” I teased.

“Nuh-uh, your priorities are desk and bed. Nothing else matters,” he frowned.

I laughed, “I might even splurge and get you a chair.”

“Desk, chair, bed,” Jake adjusted his list.

“Hang on, is that the order of priority?” I questioned. He winked at me. “What if I can’t afford the bed?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“You'll just have to sleep on my lap,” he teased. “Cleo’s waiting, you better go.”

I frowned, “I want to kiss you before I go, but that doesn’t work with masks.”

“Why not?” he leant over and pressed his lips against mine through the masks.

I smiled at his attempt, “I’ll be quick.”

“Don’t be too quick that you look suspicious,” Jake warned. “Act natural.”

I nodded, then exited the car. I adjusted my cap then walked over to Cleo.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Yes, let’s do this,” I smiled.

Thankfully the store was fairly busy so it was easy to move around without too much notice. I went to the bed section first and found a relatively cheap queen sized wooden frame.

“You need to test the mattress out,” Cleo pointed out.

“That feels weird,” I looked around.

“I think it’s weirder if you don’t,” Cleo laughed.

“Fine,” I laid down on the display mattress and saw a camera looking straight at me. I blushed then winked at it.

“What are you-" Cleo began, but was interrupted by my phone beeping. “Is he watching us?”

“Of course he's watching us,” I said rolling off the bed. I checked my phone and sure enough I got a ‘Hi ;)’.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Cleo looked at me puzzled.

“When you've had your life threatened multiple times, no. It’s reassuring,” I went to another mattress and laid down on it. “You know, I really suck at shopping for mattresses.”

Cleo came over and sat down on the mattress next to me, “This one’s not bad. It’s a spring, but you’re not looking for longevity.”

“True. All right, good enough for me,” I declared. I took photos of the model numbers, then continued onwards to the home office section.

“Really, do you need a desk?” Cleo questioned.

“If I don’t purchase the bestest desk in the world, I’m going to have one very unhappy camper,” I laughed.

“Ugh, what does he even want?” Cleo walked around the display desks.

“I'd say functionality above appearances. Like that one,” I pointed to a simple white desk with a broad surface and an open bottom. There'd be plenty of space for the dozens of monitors he'd accrue.

“It doesn’t have any drawers,” Cleo commented.

“He doesn’t need drawers, he needs easy access to the back,” I took a photo and sent it to Jake.

Jake: That one is good. :)

“Hmm,” Cleo looked at me with a smile.

“What?” I looked back at her confused.

“You know his preferences already. It’s cute,” she laughed.

I blushed, “I just had a considerable amount of time watching him work and seeing him set-up and pack down his workstations. It’s just things I notice.”

“Ok, well he needs a chair, right?” Cleo went and sat down in one of the large pleather ones.

“Well, it just needs to have good support for sitting in for long periods of time,” I explained. “Probably not too bulky, but something with a high back.”

I proceeded to go from chair to chair, but I couldn’t decide. My phone beeped.

Jake: Just get the chair on the far right.

MC: Thank you!

“All right, now can we move onto more serious furniture?” Cleo asked impatiently.

“What? That was the essentials,” I replied.

“No way! You need a dining table for romantic dinners, a couch to snuggle on and somewhere to place your TV for your late night movies,” she smiled.

“I think you have the wrong couple,” I laughed.

“No, don’t kid yourself. Every couple needs those,” she insisted.

I counted up the purchase total in my head so far. “Well, we could probably afford a 4-person dining set and a two seater sofa. But considering I still need to purchase bedding, towels, kitchenware, cutlery, plates ... that’s cutting us a bit slim. Definitely not enough for a TV.”

“Ok, fine, we’ll get you a TV later. You'll have to find some other way of entertaining yourselves on the sofa,” she winked at me. I rolled my eyes.

In the living area, I kind of just went for the cheapest sofa that felt ok to sit in. As far as the dining set, I didn’t even bother trying the chairs out. I just chose the simplest wooden 4-person set.

I went up to the counter with my selections. A man slightly older than us came up to the counter.

“Hi, sorry, are you being helped?” he asked. “It’s been a crazy day.”

“Ah, no, it’s ok. I know what I want,” I replied.

“A woman that knows what she wants! Great to hear,” he winked at me.

Please don’t do that, I thought to myself, I can hear Jake’s thoughts from here.

I gave him the model numbers of the pieces I wanted to order. “And I’d like them to be delivered tomorrow.”

“Ooh, you’re past the order cut-off for delivery for tomorrow,” he sucked his teeth. “I’ll have to speak to my manager and see if we can make an exception for you beautiful ladies.” He smiled then walked off.

Oh God, please don’t let the CCTV pick up sound as well. Can Jake lip read? I hope not.

“Jake better put a ring on you,” Cleo laughed. “You’re wearing a facemask and a cap and you’re still being hit on!”

“I never have been hit on this much in my life!” I insisted.

“Really? Is this happening often?” Cleo looked at me puzzled.

“Yes, every interaction I’ve had with a male since I’ve been with Jake,” I shook my head in despair. “It drives him mad! I don’t get it, I never used to get a second glance before.”

“Ok, Phil doesn’t count, you understand? He will hit on every female between the ages of 18 and 30,” she put a hand on my shoulder.

“I get hit on even when I go inside to pay for fuel at a gas station! The last time it was a truck driver standing behind me in the line. I couldn’t shake him off! When I walked out, Jake was right at the door waiting for me. He was so pissed at him, Cleo,” I explained.

“I didn’t really know you before, but you do seem more confident. People are attracted to confident women,” Cleo smiled.

“Well ladies, you’re in luck, we can squeeze you in for delivery tomorrow afternoon!” the salesperson returned with a giant grin on his face. “I’ll need your name, address and phone number. To confirm delivery of course, but if you want to meet up for drinks, you can write your number down on this other piece of paper.”

“Yeah, I’m sure her boyfriend would love that,” Cleo stepped in for me.

“Oh, damn. Ok give me an honest opinion, too much?” he asked.

“Waaay too much,” Cleo and I laughed.

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake x player #duskwood fanfiction #Haunted by the Past

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emachinescat · 4 years ago

Text

The Day that Camelot Forgot

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 24 - memory loss

Summary: A vengeful Morgana casts a powerful curse on Camelot on the day Merlin is named Court Sorcerer, making everyone in the citadel forget that Merlin – and his impact on their lives – exists. She can only maintain the spell for one day, but twenty-four hours is more than enough time for the warlock to get himself into some serious trouble.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, the knights, Gaius, Morgana is mentioned

Words: 6,444

TW: anxiety attacks, burning at the stake, main character near-death

Note: This story is a bit late, as it was meant to be published on day 24 of Febuwhump, but I got sick, and missed a few days. I did post the first half of it on Tumblr on the 24th, but this is the finished product. I am seriously considering writing a sequel, because there are definitely a lot of ramifications that I gloss over here, a lot of angsty, whumpy stuff that I could (and most likely will) expand upon in another story. But I'll let you read the story for yourself, and see if you're interested in a sequel!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Merlin woke up to a broom head hitting him in the face, which was not how he expected his first day as Court Sorcerer to start.

An indignant squawk escaped him as he rolled off of his bed in an effort to escape the assault. He already had an insult for Arthur on his lips when his bleary eyes cleared and he realized that it had not been the king at all who had woken him in such a manner. It was Gaius, and he was poised to strike again.

"Gaius!" Merlin stammered, scrambling to his feet and dodging another blow from the broom. "What the hell are you doing that for?"

Gaius didn't answer. Instead, looking as mean and ornery as Merlin had ever seen him, the old physician demanded, "How did you get in here?"

Merlin cocked his head to one side, completely nonplussed. "I… live here? I remember turning Arthur's offer for new chambers down so I could stay and care for you – OW!"

Gaius had hit him again. "Who are you?" he all but growled.

Merlin blinked. "Gaius, you know me," he insisted, his heart hammering out his uncertainty at the pulse point in his neck. Something was wrong; Gaius might be cantankerous for his old age, and he might have enjoyed the odd joke at Merlin's expense, but never something like this.

Merlin tried again. "Gaius, it's me… Merlin." When Gaius only glared at him distrustfully from beneath two gnarled eyebrows, he added hopefully, "You know… Hunith's son?"

To his relief, recognition lit in his mentor's eyes at the mention of Merlin's mother, but distrust immediately replaced it. "I have known Hunith all of her life," Gaius said, voice low and measured, broom still held at the ready. "But she has no son."

Real fear exploded in Merlin's chest – fear for Gaius, not for himself. There was only so much Gaius could do with a broom, but if he was forgetting Merlin so suddenly and so completely…

"Ah, I'm sorry," Merlin said as calmly as possible, raising his hands in front of him to show he meant no harm. "My mistake. I'll … get out of your hair."

He darted out of his room, across the physician's main chamber, and out the door, leaving a confused and agitated Gaius in his wake. Merlin prayed that the old physician wouldn't get himself into too much trouble while he was gone, and then darted for Arthur's chambers.

***

He ran into Gwaine on the way – literally, he ran headfirst into the knight, so distracted by Gaius's sudden and dramatic loss of memory. At first he wasn't sure whose ridiculously muscular torso he'd bumped into, and despite his worry, he couldn't help but grin when he saw the bearded face glaring down at him in surprise.

Wait…

Glaring?

Merlin stumbled back.

"Watch where you're going, friend," Gwaine said in response. The way he spoke sent a wave of wrongness down Merlin's spine. He had called Merlin friend, but it was a vague, generalized term. When Gwaine normally called Merlin his friend, the word was saturated with warmth and shone with the light of a dozen charming grins. Now, it meant nothing. And when Merlin looked up into his friend's dark eyes, there was no recognition there. No smile that Merlin had come to understand as reserved especially for the knight's closest friends. Gwaine's eyes landed on him, flashed in brief annoyance, and then skirted off of him almost nearly as quickly.

"Gwaine?" Merlin asked, irritated at the uncertainty in his own voice.

Gwaine, who had already started sauntering away, turned back with a puzzled expression. For just a moment, Merlin was sure that kind, mischievous face was going to open up in an eyes-to-mouth smile like it always did upon seeing him, but then the brow furrowed, and Gwaine asked, "Do I know you?"

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He stood there, gaping like a fool, his whole body coiled as if ready to spring into action, limbs numb, fingers trembling, fear wrapping its constricting tendrils around his chest.

Gwaine gave Merlin an odd look, then shrugged. "Maybe we drank together once."

Merlin nodded weakly, remembering not just once, but many times he and the man before him had gone to the tavern together, often with the rest of the knights, sometimes even the king, in tow. He thought of laughter, and promises of friendship and loyalty, and tavern songs and Gwaine standing on top of a table doing a clumsy jig. He thought of the first time they'd gone to the tavern after learning of Merlin's magic, how Gwaine had asked him a million questions that had gotten more idiotic with every drink. ("No, Gwaine, I have never tried to transplant my nose into the center of a rose to see if flowers can smell themselves.")

By the time he had resurfaced from the barrage of memories that Gwaine had forgotten and that Merlin now clung to with a new ferocity, the knight had gone.

Feeling distinctly sick, Merlin resumed his trek to Arthur's chambers, noticing with fresh terror that every person he passed either didn't acknowledge him at all, or gave him a second, bewildered glance like they'd never seen him before, like he had no right being where he was – being in his home.

***

Arthur didn't remember him, either.

Merlin was so near panic when he got to the king and queen's chambers that he almost forgot to knock. Knocking was never something Merlin had been particularly adept at remembering to do, especially when it came to his duties to Arthur, but since the king had married Gwen, Merlin had made sure to amend his habits. There were some things that Merlin absolutely did not want to walk in on, and besides, he respected Gwen too much to risk barging in on her unannounced.

It was Arthur who answered the door, and Merlin was so flustered that he didn't wait for an invitation to enter (when did he ever, though?), and he squeezed his way into the room past the king. Gwen was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank the gods you're here, Arthur," Merlin huffed as he bustled in. "Something very weird is going on. Gaius and Gwaine are acting like they don't know me, like they've never seen me in their lives!"

He turned around to face his friend. To his surprise, Arthur's hand was on the hilt of his sword at his hip, and suspicion rolled off of him in waves. "Who the hell are you?" he asked flatly, blue eyes flashing with an intensity reserved for those who wished to do him, his kingdom, or his loved ones harm.

Merlin had been expecting a joke like this. Arthur was never one to pass up an opportunity to tease his former servant, soon-to-be Court Sorcerer. The dry retort, "Very funny, Sire," died before it could escape his mouth, though, because when he looked at his king, his best friend, he saw no glimmer of recognition. No familiarity. No kindness or warmth or irritated indulgence. Arthur's face was that of a man who had just had a complete stranger barge into his room and started talking to him like they were old acquaintances – which, Merlin was beginning to realize, was exactly what had happened from the king's point of view.

Merlin swallowed heavily and entreated, "Arthur … King Arthur. Please tell me that you know me." Desperation clawed at his throat and infected his next plea. "Please."

Arthur didn't speak, didn't relax his grip on his sword hilt, but he didn't draw the weapon either, which Merlin thought had to be a good sign. Finally, after several long, tense moments, Arthur responded in a slow, cautious tone, "I'm sorry. I have never seen you before in my life. What business do you have with me?"

Merlin's world, everything he knew and understood and loved, crumbled around him in that moment. He staggered back, managed to stay upright by pure strength of will alone. What the hell was going on? The familiar sting of tears pressed against the back of his eyes, and he only managed to keep himself from crying by sheer stubbornness. He took a deep, steadying breath, made a conscious effort to look as non-threatening as possible, and tried very hard not to panic.

"Okay," he said, and his voice shook, so he tried again. "Okay." This time, his voice was steadier. Arthur's glare pounded into him from across the room, and knew that the king's already thin patience was running out. "Something very wrong is happening in Camelot," the sorcerer began.

Arthur interrupted him. "I agree," he said pedantically. "There's a strange man in my chambers."

"I'm not – I am, or I was, your servant."

"My servant's name is George."

Merlin couldn't help it. He groaned. "George? The one who makes jokes about brass? He's your servant in this hellish version of Camelot?"

Arthur sent Merlin a look that was almost pitying. "You are obviously very confused," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "But I am king of Camelot, and you have no right to be in my personal chambers. Go now, and I will think nothing more of this intrusion. If you do not, then I will have to treat you as a threat, and call the guards."

Merlin shook his head, unwilling to let this go. In the span of a single morning, his entire reality, the world he and Arthur had worked so hard to build and the future that they were about to step into, his new position as Court Sorcerer, his friendship with Arthur, everything, had been ripped away from him. He had to figure out what could have caused this to happen. He didn't have to think long – who was out there with enough power to make what seemed like the entire citadel forget he existed? Who was angry and envious and vindictive enough to take away everyone he loved on the very day that the culmination of his and Arthur's dreams were finally taking shape?

Even as Arthur stepped forward, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it, Merlin blurted, "It has to be Morgana!"

All the color drained out of Arthur's face in an instant. He stood there, frozen, a horrible expression of pain manifesting in his eyes. "How dare you speak of my sister," the king growled, and Merlin actually backed up a few steps, bumping into the end table that he'd polished more times than he could count.

"I know she's a difficult subject to talk about," Merlin managed, striving to keep his voice steady as the grief in Arthur's eyes turned to fury. "But it's the only explanation. Morgana must have cast a curse on the citadel – you have to let me go find her, please, and I can stop this, and the world can go back to normal."

Arthur drew his sword now, and Merlin had no more room to retreat. He stood before his king, his closest friend, his muscles aching from the tension gripping his body, his heart pumping so fast and hard he could feel the flutter in his chest. "Arthur, please–"

"I am your king!" the man who had Arthur's face but spoke like his father spat. "You will address me as such! And how dare you insinuate that the Lady Morgana was a sorceress! What vile game are you playing?"

Merlin's head spun; he had no idea what was going on, how Arthur was currently seeing the world, but he did know for certain now that Morgana was behind it. The reverence and love with which the king said his half-sister's name could only come from a delusion the sorceress in question had placed there. Then something Arthur had said hit home. "What do you mean 'was'?"

The expression on the king's face was faintly nauseated, as if he were being forced to remember something that he had hidden away deep inside, or as if he were actively fighting the urge to cut Merlin down on the spot. Either scenario felt entirely wrong and filled Merlin with a sense of dread. "My sister is dead," Arthur said flatly. "She who would have been queen – should have been queen." Oh, yes, Morgana was definitely behind this, Merlin thought wryly. It was bad enough she had these sick delusions in the first place, but to force everyone in Camelot to play a part in them was equally terrifying and sad. "Struck down by a sorcerer in cold blood."

Merlin flinched at the way Arthur spat the word sorcerer. It had been years since he had heard the title said with such hatred and derision, and never had he heard this level of malevolence for magic-users come from Arthur's mouth. After everything they had been through together, after the joy of watching their prophesied destiny unfold before his very eyes, after hearing Arthur accept his magic and plan to officially declare him Court Sorcerer, hearing the title that Arthur had so often spoken of with pride slide out of that same mouth slicked with hatred hurt. But Merlin reminded himself of the truth – this wasn't Arthur, not really; somehow he was being fed false memories – and he squared his shoulders and looked his king right in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said solemnly. Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Merlin hoped it was a good sign. "But Arthur – your highness – I need you to listen to me, please. I can explain everything. I can try, at least. But your memories aren't what you think they are. Morgana is alive and… very well, considering the power of this enchantment."

"My sister was murdered by magic, and yet you still insist that she is the evil enchantress!" Arthur fumed, and Merlin felt like he was talking to a stone wall, or even more deaf and unyielding, Uther Pendragon. He very seriously considered knocking Arthur out with magic and tucking him away safely in a wardrobe somewhere while he himself went to deal with the sorceress who had caused all this trouble. But Merlin could sense Arthur, the real Arthur, somewhere beneath the surface of those familiar-but-foreign eyes, and he was sure he could break the spell without having to go to the source. Merlin was Arthur's dearest friend, the king had said this himself (and yes, it still counted even if Arthur had been incredibly drunk after a night in the tavern with Gwaine when he said it). And Merlin knew Arthur better than anyone else, save the queen.

I can reach him, he reassured himself. Arthur is still in there, somewhere. I just have to find him. And once he's back to himself, I can deal with Morgana.

"Please, sire," Merlin said, putting every bit of sincerity he could muster into his words. "Just… let me tell you my side of the story. Let me remind you of who I am, and who you truly are. I am your friend, Arthur, and you have said yourself that I am the most stupidly loyal man you have ever had the displeasure to meet." A desperate chuckle lilted his last few words.

"You have two minutes."

"Um, there's a lot to cover, actually," Merlin responded. "Can I have a bit longer, because I don't think–"

"One and half minutes."

"Okay, okay, I'll stick to the basics!" And so Merlin gave Arthur the quickest and most condensed version of their friendship and history he could cobble together in less time than it usually took to exchange greetings with his king in the morning.

He ended with, "And so you see, it makes sense that Morgana would want to sabotage this occasion, because it marks the beginning of a new era that she desperately wants to be a part of but is too bitter and proud to humble herself and change for. She wants to tear us apart, wants you to do something that you'll later regret. But I know you're stronger than this, Arthur. I know that you remember me, deep down. The life you're living isn't yours. Your memories aren't yours. They belong to Morgana, but your mind does not." A strange, almost trance-like mask had descended over Arthur's face while Merlin spoke, and hope started budding in the warlock's chest – he was so close to breaking through, he could feel it.

"So," Merlin prompted, when Arthur did not immediately respond. "Do you remember? Have you realized the truth, sire?"

Slowly, Arthur nodded, and the dazed quality to his eyes cleared up in an instant. "Yes," he murmured. Merlin allowed his eyes to close momentarily in relief; his body sagged against the table at his back. Thank the gods, the nightmare was over. Now all that was left was to find Morgana and make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

But Arthur wasn't finished speaking, and the hardness had steeled his gaze once more, his lips set in a straight line and his jaw clenched and held high. "I have realized that I was a fool to think that you were a harmless vagrant with delusions of grandeur who wandered into the wrong part of the castle. I should never have opened the door for you."

"Arthur–"

"I am your KING!" Merlin snapped his mouth shut, tears once again prickling at the corner of his eyes. The injustice of the situation weighed as heavily on him as his destiny once had. "You are a sorcerer, an enemy of Camelot, here in an attempt to take down Camelot from the inside. But your spells and tricks and poisoned words will not work on me."

"But–"

"Guards!"

"You don't understand, I–"

"Guards!"

***

Elyan and Percival were the knights who dragged Merlin to the dungeons and threw him roughly into a cell. Then Percival clasped his wrists in shackles, which were chained to the floor. The door slammed shut with a metallic clang.

"Percival – Elyan!" Merlin called out as the knights that had only a week ago pledged their acceptance and loyalty to him as the soon-to-be Court Sorcerer and chief advisor to the king. "Please, you know me!"

"You'll die for your treachery, sorcerer," Elyan spat.

The left, and Merlin sank to the cold, damp stone floor, chains clinking. He drew his knees up to his chest, rested his aching head on them, and did his best to remember how to breathe.

***

Merlin wasn't sure how long he had been in the dungeon, but it had to have been a couple of hours at least. He hadn't eaten breakfast because the old man who usually prepared it for him had instead attacked him with a broom. Now, he was certain he had missed lunch too. His stomach growled at him in protest, but the hunger pangs meant nothing to Merlin. Even if the guards dropped off a meal fit for a king, he wouldn't be able to eat a bite. Everything had gone so wrong.

And now Merlin was at a loss of what to do. He could escape the dungeons easily, he knew, and go searching for Morgana. But there were so many uncertainties, a litany of what ifs that railed against him whenever he thought about breaking out of his chains and sending the cell door crashing into the guards holding a silent but hostile vigil on the other side. If indeed he could find Morgana and discover a way to reverse the curse, then it would, of course, be an easy fix. Merlin's failure to connect with Arthur and break the spell himself had planted a seed of self-doubt deeply within the soil of his mind, however, and now what he had been so sure of before he'd tried to fix things himself – that he would be able to hunt down Morgana and stop this madness with magic – seemed like a distant, unrealistic goal.

And if he did fail? If he could not find Morgana, or if she had managed to employ a magic far more powerful or strange than he currently knew how to counter? If he was unable to break the curse? Then Arthur would go on believing Merlin was the enemy, and Merlin would have forfeited any chance of reaching his friend by flouting the king's edict, attacking the guards, and breaking out of the castle.

Merlin had only been able to get through to Arthur in his other life, his real life, by showing the king over a period of years that magic was not something to be inherently feared, not something evil in and of itself. He had had to show the king through his own life and actions the truth about magic, so that when Arthur had at last learned of his secret, it was from Merlin's own lips and with nearly a decade of loyalty and friendship to back up Merlin's assurances that he had only ever used his gifts to protect Arthur and Camelot. Sure, Arthur had been angry at first, and hurt that Merlin hadn't trusted him, but he had come to an acceptance of Merlin's magic much more quickly than the warlock had imagined. King and servant had grown even closer in the wake of the truth, and soon after, Arthur had started drafting plans for making magic legal and had proposed the idea of Melin's being officially named Court Sorcerer.

But if Merlin was forced to start from scratch, to rebuild his relationship with the king – a possibility that pained him deeply but that he was more than willing to do, if it was the only way to get Arthur back and get their destiny on track – then it would not be wise to start that relationship off with a jailbreak. Then again, he argued against himself, neither was blurting out his secret to an Arthur who had already shown great disdain for magic and who held no memory of or loyalty toward Merlin at all. At this rate, maybe it was better to just take the risk and escape, because how in the name of the Triple Goddess was he supposed to convince Arthur of his loyalty if the king most likely planned to execute him for treason?

He almost made his escape then, but something stopped him. At first, he couldn't identity exactly what it was, just a feeling, an uncomfortable squirming in his gut that could have been the voice of destiny, or instinct, or, quite possibly, hunger. But either way, it bothered him enough that he held off on his plans to break out and examined the feeling more closely. Eventually, he realized – if he left Arthur now, especially in the state he was in, alone and unprotected and with Morgana out there somewhere with her eyes feasting hungrily on the citadel she so earnestly believed should be hers, he could be putting the king in more danger. If Merlin wasn't able to find Morgana in time, and she used his absence to ease her way into the citadel and onto the throne, which Arthur would readily give up to her in his current state.. With him under her influence, she could do whatever she wanted to him – kill him, imprison him, break his mind forever… and Merlin wouldn't be there to stop her.

With this thought, he decided to wait it out, and to see how events would unfold. He would not use his magic to defy Arthur or make his escape unless absolutely necessary. After all, he tried to assure himself, there was the very real possibility that Morgana would not be able to hold this powerful of a spell for long. She might be a priestess of the Old Religion, but even she had her limits. Perhaps her plan was to lure Merlin out to find her and then to use his absence to take Camelot for herself, but it was entirely possible that she only had a limited window of time to achieve her goal and that she was counting on Merlin to act on his emotions and search her out immediately.

Or maybe her plan was just to simply wreak havoc in Merlin's life for as long as she could. Either way, Merlin reasoned, her hold over the entirety of Camelot could not last forever. Sooner or later, her grip would weaken and Arthur and the rest of the citadel would wrest their way out of her control.

Merlin just had to survive until then.

***

He was unsure of how much time had passed when they came for him again. No one had brought him food, or water, and no one had come to visit him during his imprisonment, either. Merlin thought it was highly likely that Arthur had ordered any curious parties to stay away; the king had made it abundantly clear that he considered Merlin a dangerous threat. The fact that he had not been given even a hunk of stale bread or a flagon of water sent warning bells off in Merlin's mind – if this strange Arthur was anything like Uther had been, then he knew that he would be executed swiftly and without trial, and there was no need to feed a dead man.

Gwaine and Leon came to collect him. Leon unlocked the shackles and shoved him at Gwaine, who spat at his feet. "And to think I was kind to you this morning," he growled, and Merlin fought the urge to remind him that he hadn't exactly been kind, more indifferent. Gwaine roughly spun Merlin around, wrenched his hands behind his back so hard that pain sliced through his shoulder blades. Merlin felt his hands being bound tightly, expertly behind his back with course, thick rope. He reached into himself and felt his magic, alive, pulsing, ready to rise to his defense, and he took solace in it, but kept it at bay.

Not yet, he told himself.

But he was getting scared, and he was running out of options.

***

They shoved him to his knees before Arthur, who sat unyielding and terrible on his throne, a mirror image of his father. Merlin realized with a start that there was only one throne.

"Where's Gwen?" he asked. Now that he thought about it, the servant-turned-queen hadn't come up when Merlin had told his story to Arthur earlier, and the king had made no mention of his wife. In fact, he recalled with a start, none of Gwen's more domestic touches had been in Arthur's chamber.

Arthur stood, striding forward and looming over his prisoner. "You should have gagged him," he groused. "He doesn't know how to shut up." For a split second, Merlin thought that maybe the real Arthur was beginning to resurface – that was exactly something that he would say! Then he crossed his arms over his chest and asked irritably, "Who is Gwen? Your accomplice?"

"No, no," Merlin quickly assured him, not wanting to cause any trouble for Gwen, wherever she was. It was odd, he thought: Most elements of Camelot had stayed the same in Morgana's living nightmare, like the knights – even the non-noble ones, even Elyan, Gwen's brother, had remained as they were. But Arthur, in this version of reality, had never married Gwen. It made sense if he thought about it, though. Gwen had occupied the role that Morgana had believed was hers, had, in the witch's eyes, betrayed her trust and left her for the man that represented everything Morgana hated. Of course, Gwen wouldn't have her happy ending, her marriage to Arthur, with Morgana in charge. She was being punished as well. Merlin wondered if Gwen had been left with her memories of the real world like he had been, or if she was somewhere in Camelot, living and thinking as a maid when she really was a queen.

To Merlin's relief, Arthur didn't pursue the line of questioning any further. "I have talked this matter over with my council and advisors," he said in a measured voice. A burst of bitterness howled inside of Merlin – he had been named Arthur's chief advisor! He had been a part of the original council, the Knights of the Round Table, when Arthur had first brought them together! And now this illusion of Morgana's had stolen that away from him, too.

Not yet, he reminded his magic, as it raged and boiled and frothed inside of him. Be patient.

He might have been able to control his magic, but he could not keep his sarcasm completely in check: "And I am sure that in your discussion with the council, you all came to a completely fair and totally unbiased decision based on facts and not the unfounded prejudices of your father's rule."

He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly was not Arthur's face flushing an angry red, nor the back of his hand smashing full-force into Merlin's cheek, snapping his head to the side violently. He felt one of the king's rings split the skin on his cheekbone, and thought for a breathless moment that the entire left side of his face had caved in.

He couldn't keep back the lone tear that crawled from the corner of his eye. It didn't come from pain or even shock – but a sense of gut-wrenching betrayal that he could not reason his way out of, even knowing that Arthur was not himself. Even in the state that Arthur was in, even knowing that the king would make plans to execute him, Merlin never anticipated Arthur himself becoming physically violent with him. Somehow, Arthur's hitting him was so much more of a betrayal than a death sentence.

Just. Wait. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep his magic from rising to his defense.

"You will learn your place, sorcerer," Arthur hissed. "When you burn. Take him; we light the pyre at first dawn."

***

Fear screamed through Merlin's body like a whirlwind, and coherent thought fled in the wake of his worst nightmares manifesting before him. He had been sure that Arthur would have chosen hanging or even the chopping block, but a pyre –

Merlin had grown up terrified of fires, horrified at the possibility of dying a brutal, torturous death, swallowed and ravaged by flames, all because he was born with magic. Because of who he was.

No one had been burnt at the stake in years in Camelot. Certainly not after Arthur became king. It was a barbaric practice, and even the worst war criminals and traitors were given a swift, merciful death. He had assumed that Arthur would continue that tradition.

But no, when he was dragged out into the courtyard – the sky was dark, but the air chilly and damp, heralding the approaching dawn – a great pyre had been constructed, and the rest of the knights – his friends – had gathered around, their faces lit eerily by the flickering flames of the torches they held at the ready. At least Gaius wasn't there.

You're not actually going to die, Merlin tried to remind himself, dragging desperately for air through his nose, his mouth blocked by his neckerchief that they'd dragged over his mouth in a bid to keep him from talking, or screaming, or just out of pure spite, Merlin didn't know. You can escape. You will escape, and find Morgana, and stop this. You can't delay any longer.

He drew himself up as tall as he could between Leon and Gwaine, calling his magic to his aid and –

He wasn't sure what happened, or how his friends-turned-enemies had guessed that he was about to try something – maybe he had given himself away somehow, maybe they had noticed the change in his stance or a shift in his energy, or maybe Morgana was interfering even now, ensuring that he would not escape his fate so easily. Whatever the reason, just as Merlin drew upon his magic, something blunt – a sword hilt? – crashed into the back of his skull, and everything was pain.

Agony ripped through his head, his neck, and crackled down his spine. Any grip Merlin had on his magic slipped through his fingers, and he fell forward, held semi-upright only by the knights escorting him to his death. He didn't lose consciousness, but he did lose all sense of control over his body and his magic, and the only thing that existed was pain. His stomach churned in time with the throbbing of his head, and his eyes were driven shut instinctively by the light of the torches before him.

The next few minutes passed in a state of distanced terror and pain. Merlin was acutely aware of the heaviness and agony of his head and the nausea in his gut. He also felt every spike of fear, every bit of helplessness, every scream that wanted to rise up from the most primal part of his being. And yet, at the same time, it was as if it was happening to someone else, and he could do nothing about it. Everything hurt and he was going to die and Arthur was going to burn him alive, his friends were going to light the pyre, and he would die in agony, and not even his magic could stop it, because he couldn't feel it, couldn't find it – he was magic itself, and yet it eluded his grasp, all that existed was pain and confusion and his head swam –

He felt, as if from a great distance, himself be hoisted onto the pyre. He felt the rough wood of the stake rub blisters into his tied hands as he was shoved against it, head lolling uselessly as if it belonged to someone else. He felt rope wrap around his torso, his legs, securing him to the pyre, and he tried to lift his head, which rested on his chest, tried to find his magic, but all he uncovered was fear and despair and pain.

He vaguely heard Arthur speaking from somewhere close by – or maybe it was from miles away. He did not understand the words but knew them to be a list of the supposed crimes Merlin had committed – being born with magic the chief of those. And then, far too soon, Arthur stopped talking, and Merlin sensed through his partially closed eyes the knights approaching with their torches, and he felt the warmth of the fire as those torches were lowered to the wood.

Merlin forced his eyes open, thrust his head up and looked at his friends, then beyond them, at Arthur. He maintained eye contact with his king, his brother, his best friend, even as the knights lit the pyre and he felt the heat begin to spread. Merlin didn't know if Arthur could hear him from this distance, if his words would be loud enough, strong enough, or if they would be caught up and consumed in the rising flames. It took every ounce of strength and concentration to push past the pain and call out, as loudly as he could, "I forgive you, Arthur."

And then, as the flames began licking at his feet, his boots, his clothes, something popped. I was as if the world itself had been out of joint, like a dislocated shoulder, and in that moment, the painful but satisfying second of release, it had snapped back into place. The air shifted, the world stopped spinning for the briefest of moments, and then, it clicked back into its rightful place.

The spell had been broken; Merlin could feel it in every fiber of his being – his magic cried out in relief, and it was only then that he realized that it hadn't been his head injury that had prevented him from fighting back, from escaping – it had been a last, desperate attempt by Morgana to get her revenge, to hide his magic away from him just long enough for him to die.

But she had failed. Her power, her hold and control, had finally given out on her, and Merlin felt his magic bubble back to the surface, and despite the pain and the fear, he summoned rain from a cloudless sky as the sun continued its golden ascent and put out the flames.

Around him, he heard yells, and cries, and his name was shouted from all directions, from the mouths of those he loved and trusted and who had very nearly killed him. But his head pounded, and he was so weak, and the fire was out. He slumped in his bonds, eyes fluttering shut, head dropping to his chest.

He didn't even feel the hands untie him. He didn't feel the knights gently lift his too-warm body from the pyre, didn't feel himself being carried into the castle and placed on a bed, didn't feel Arthur's tears of mingled guilt and relief splash onto his face.

He did, however, somehow, amidst the quiet and dark of unconsciousness, hear Arthur's voice cut through the silence, strong and familiar and real. "Gods, I – I'm so sorry, Merlin. My dearest friend, I–"

When he woke, Merlin would embrace his king, reassure him that no lasting harm had been done. He would smile at his friends, clasp hands with the knights and hug Gaius, find Gwen and make sure she hadn't suffered the same disorienting day that he had. He would answer all questions asked of him, and he would assure Arthur and the knights as many times as it took that he did not blame them, would explain Morgana's dark role in everything. He would find Morgana, and make sure that nothing like this would happen again.

When he woke, the world would be right. It wouldn't be normal – after everything that had been done to him, after all the betrayals, even though he didn't blame his friends, it would take a while for normal to come back around. But Merlin would persist, and he would have his friends – his real friends, with their real memories – to help him through it. As he would help them through the ramifications of their own pain, guilt, and regret.

And when he woke, he would be named the official Court Sorcerer of Camelot. He would be given a robe fine enough for a king, but he wouldn't care about that. All that would matter would be him, at Arthur's side, protecting him and fulfilling their destiny. That was how it had always been, and Merlin, when he woke, would look forward to a bright future of peace and hope.

But for now, he gratefully, peacefully slept, knowing that when he next opened his eyes, Camelot would remember.

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softysuho · 4 years ago

Text

pretty boy & zombies

pairing: yunho x reader

summary: In the year 3013, the government unleashed their first wave of "natural selection". They took out elderly by offering a vaccine that was told to prevent further sicknesses and stated that it was mandatory. After the elderly were wiped from the earth, phase two was put into action. There they unleashed a monster. The government started the zombie apocalypse in hopes that the elite human race would show itself.

word count: 1.9k (a/n its been awhile and this is lowkey shit, I also can't figure out how to put "keep reading" in with the new Tumblr update, but I hope you all enjoy this drabble💖)

It was day like every other day, humid and way too hot for any sort of physical activity. The small house you sit in does little to keep the warm weather out, it was a cute place from what was left. There had been an old couple in here prior, from what you gathered. They looked cute and happy in the photos that were scattered across the walls. Most of the food leftover had gone bad, but they did have a decent amount of medical supplies.

You sighed as you thought back to your home, your parents and your little baby sister. It was hard to keep track of the days you have been without your family, four or five months maybe. Your college days were long behind you now, no more parties, no more all nighters doing homework. Everything had been taken from you.

On an average day supply run, you can still see the tall billboards, promising a better future. The face of the man who decided to play God and Mother Nature. What bullshit. You wondered if he is dead now, if the zombies got to him like they did to everyone else in the towns.

One could only hope.

As for other survivors out there, you know that there are some sharing the near city with you. One day stores could have shelves of food and the next day there seems to be half. Although you haven’t crossed paths with any. Who knows if they would be friendly.

Maybe they’d put you out of your misery.

Most days that sounded nice. To be able to join your family in the afterlife. Somedays you knew you didn’t want to die, the fear of what comes next after death chilled your bones. You certainly don’t want to feast off human guts and brains for the next eternity. What if the undead are still the people they were before? Maybe they can only watch themselves turn into a monster.

As you were running low on filling meals, left with light snacks, you decided it was best to into the deeper parts of the city. It was risky, considering it used to be the most populated, but desperate times come to desperate measures.

You grabbed your gear and your sharp machete and adjusted your makeshift armor straps before taking off. Staying low in the tree was one of the safer moves, taking the longest way into the city in hopes of avoiding hordes. The nature was a beautiful sight, the refreshing smell of pine and the distant trickling of water. Normally it'd be calming if you didn't have to fear the undead lurking.

You wondered if nature would begin to go back in time, before the greedy human fingers that destroyed their beauty. However, you wondered if there would be any animal left once the zombies come and eat them as well. One could only hope they'll be okay.

As the trees began to thin out, you could see the city that used to home to many. The streets were covered in half eaten corpses, trash from the chaos and blood. In the beginning, this sight had you emptying your stomach in a near by bush, 10 deep breaths and one 'you can do this'. These days though, it was just the normal sight you'd become accustomed to.

Normally, these trips would be to the same grocery store you've been too for the last few months. You knew these roads now, and every nook and cranny on the way there. But today was different. You were tired of looking like you just crawled out of an old ladies closet, no offense to her. So you decided to head towards one of the stores with both clothing and food. Hopefully you'd find a new blanket to take as well.

There was a light pep in your step as you made your way there, a small amount of excitement you haven't felt in a long time at the thought of some new clothes. You wondered what else there would be there besides what you need and that thought was fun to think about. So similar to what would've went through your head before the destruction of humanity.

You stuck close to the walls of the tall buildings, trying to be as quiet as you could. You couldn't afford to risk being caught now, out in the open by the dead before you even had a chance to see how bad the rest of the city really was.

What you didn't realize, though, was how lost you were in your thoughts. You inched closer to that dark alleyway you would've avoided originally, one that could hide several lurking bodies within.

It was too late by then, a large and warm hand covered your mouth as an arm wrapped itself around your torso. Alarm bells were going off in your head, slowly realizing that you had to escape before you met your doom. Tears were threatening to spill from your eyes, praying to whatever was out there to let you live for another day.

"Would you shut up? I'd rather not regret saving your ass." It was a harsh whisper against your ear, but it did its job as you calmed in the unknown (hopefully) humans arms. "You were being followed." This time the voice was soft, hand finally falling away from your mouth to pull you closer and further into the darkness.

Only then did you notice the scuffing of feet and deep voices. You could tell they weren't far, and they clearly would've seen you walking alone at some point. A thousand 'thank yous' raced through your head towards the person behind you and you could only hope they could feel how thankful you were. You turned to look towards the stranger, only seeing that is was a male who was taller than you. Or at least, thats what you assumed.

The two of you stayed within the alleyways darkness even after the group walked past and out of ear shot. You heard a breath of relief behind you, followed by a brief brush of shoulders. As the man peered out from the darkness, you saw the messy mop of black hair and a quarter of his face. Inching closer to the man, your eyes popped over his shoulder and scanned for any signs of movement. When you both deemed it safe, he motioned you with his fingers and brought you in the opposite direction of the group.

"The hell were you doing out in the open like that?" He said above a whisper. However you were shocked by the way his eyes sparkled in the sunlight, simply managing a small shrug. He rolled his eyes at you in response, "I'm Yunho.. I've been living in that upscale apartment complex a ways down for about a month, and I swear I've seen everyone who is left around here. You're new?"

You scoffed lowly and looked over your shoulder. Why was he telling you this? Did he want to take you back and murder you for supplies? "I've been living in the woods, there was a farm a little ways out and I've only stuck to the store on that side of town."

Yunho hummed, seemingly lost in thought. He didn't seemed too beat up for being out here alone, not like you at least. There were scratches on your arms from shrubbery as well as old blood from a run in with the dead. Yunho was handsome and from the glimpses of his smile, you could tell it was bright.

You had been walking side by side for awhile now, going into the town deeper than you ever had been. The building were getting taller, more expensive and grand. First floor windows were either boarded up or broken, probably either hiding or stealing. You could picture the busy streets, the high class fashion of the upper working class.

"If you've been here for a month, how come you haven't tried to make friends?" You said softly, looking up at Yunho curiously.

"I had ran into the leader about two weeks ago," He scratched his head, looking from side to side while he kept an eye out. "It was fine at first, we made small talk in one of the stores." Yunho pointed behind him and rolled his eyes, "Somewhere back there, I don't remember. We talked for awhile before one of his buddies came in and claimed he could see a bite mark.. All hell broke out after, but I snuck out the back."

You rose your brows and patted him on the shoulder. "His buddy sounds like a real winner."

When you reached the building, you were pretty amazed at the shape it was left in. There was only one window that was broken, leaving the rest of them untouched. "I don't think anyone attempted to stay here so it was pretty much abandoned." Yunho smirked to himself and took a deep breath before he opened the front doors. "After you, ma'am." He bowed and gestured for you to take a step indoors. You gaped at the interior, if you thought hard enough you could see this place lit up and running as it should. The fountain glowing as the clear water fell into each bowl, grand chandeliers brightening the room. Your face was stuck, awestruck with a small smile. You wished you could've saw everything work in action or had the opportunity to stay a night here with room service.

"Woah.." You whispered when an arm was thrown around your shoulder.

"Wanna go room hunting with me? I've only been to the first five floors." Yunho whispered back as, he too, studied the hotel lobby. Pursing your lips, you shrugged and looked up at Yunho. Studying his features for a few brief moments. He was, indeed, very handsome.

Yunho watched you from the corner of his eye, his lips twitching into a smile. As fast as he could, Yunho turned his whole head to catch you in the act. The smile turning into a giant smirk. "See something you like?" He spoke first, head cocking to the side. "It's okay, I see something I like as well." A wink was sent your way, causing a blush to cover your features.

"Shut up," You joked, side eyeing him before your elbow met his ribs. He chuckled at you and took your hand to pull you to the stairs. "Find me some nice clothes and I'll reward you with a treat." Instead of your voice giving off a confident tone, it came out small and squeaky, leading your blush to darken a tenfold.

"Oh? And what is the treat? I think I should know before doing what I'm told."

"Guess it depends on how well you do."

After several hours of searching, jokes and excitement from not expired food, Yunho was able to come up with a nice sturdy set of blue jeans, a pair of leggings, some new combat boots, three shirts and one giant ass hoodie. He looked at you with wide and innocent eyes, silently asking you for his treat.

With a long sigh, you plopped yourself down on the couch and gestured him to come closer. As soon as he was within arms reach, you gripped his shirt and pulled him down on top of you. "Y/n.. you can't have my shirt." He said with a shit eating grin.

"Just shut up and kiss me."

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shih-coulda-had-it · 4 years ago

Note

Just i m a g i n e ; Nana and Gran Torino know the friends / almost boyfriends of Toshi and Torino was like; "go away of that blond idiot or I'm going to hit them without mercy" while Nana is; "Sora, let them, are childrens. But if they hurt m’lil Toshi, I'll also hit them without mercy :) ". The boys, (Dave, Sir, Tsukauchi and Aizawa), are scared of the threats of Toshi's parents and he does not realize that his parents have threatened his almost boyfriends. I think that would happen 👀.

Oh, I like where your head’s at. This is technically the beginning of either a recurring arc/a long one-shot in the NanaLives!AU that’s been building as tumblr snippets.

*Note: Sorahiko did not join Nana and Toshinori in the States for several months. He was cleaning up their tracks/records. On a last-second impulse, he asks the Commission to retrieve Kotarou. Kotarou’s reunion is a whole drama of its own, but the end-result is that Kotarou (1) gets therapy (2) gets a whole year off school! (3) gets a whole family!!!

Neither Nana nor Sorahiko are blindsided by the first boy Toshinori brings home. They’re trying not to invalidate All Might’s work by playing chaperone, but they do pay attention to the news. And the news is captivated by the presence of an exceptionally handsome young foreigner popping up to take care of problems.

Problems like the explosion at the local college laboratory.

“Okaa-san,” says Kotarou, enraptured by disaster, “Toshi-nii’s shirt got burned off.”

“He doesn’t know he’s got a camera trained on him,” observes Nana.

“Figures,” Sorahiko says darkly. He’s sitting at the couch, financial paperwork spread out on the coffee table. Kotarou is cross-legged, ostensibly keeping Sorahiko company and doing his English handwriting exercises. Nana had been busy with laundry, but she poked her head in at the first excited cry. “All this work to stay under the radar, and the brat immediately gets trapped in the spotlight.”

“No one will recognize him.” Goodness knows Nana hadn’t, the first time Toshinori tapped into One for All and puffed up.

“Who’s he talking to?”

“He’s talking to somebody?” Sorahiko’s head snaps up at Kotarou’s innocent inquiry, and Nana doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s studying the grainy screen, eyes narrowed in calculation.

“He looks nice,” she tries. The two boys on-screen are laughing together, bright-eyed and grinning. Toshinori’s new friend is totally staring at Toshinori’s chest.

“Looks like a sycophant,” he growls.

She rolls her eyes. “Toshinori just saved him from a burning building. Gratitude and admiration, along with some heart-eyes, aren’t out of the norm.”

“Hn.”

“What’s a sycophant,” Kotarou says, twisting around when the camera finally cuts away to a pair of commentators. He peers at Sorahiko’s papers like he can understand not only English, but also Sorahiko’s chicken-scratch handwriting.

Long-sufferingly, Sorahiko answers, “A sycophant is a person who always says yes to another person.”

“Oh.” Kotarou dwells on this. “Like you with okaa-san.”

There’s a beat of silence. The first giggle escapes Nana’s valiant grasp, and then she’s leaning on the wall, overtaken by them. Kotarou looks pleased; Sorahiko starts to sputter and defend himself.

Several hours later, Toshinori’s boisterous voice announces, “I’m home!”

“Welcome back,” Nana calls out from the kitchen. Over the course of a few months, her cooking repertoire has expanded to include boxed yellow curry. It bubbles ominously in the deep pan, set over a low heat. “Watch out in the living room, I think Sorahiko’s still napping with Kotarou.”

“Ah.” Nana hears a murmur. Then the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Involuntarily, she tenses and activates Float, her world narrowing down to the question: who is that. Her hands curl into fists, scarred and white-knuckled. She navigates the hallway to the front door and checks the mirror--oh.

Float deactivates. Nana briskly re-ties her hair, shakes out the adrenaline still thrumming in her hands, and steps out into the open with a smile.

“Who’s this?” she asks pleasantly.

Toshinori hasn’t stopped using One for All, but he’s picked up a white “I <3 LA” shirt. While he can stay puffed up for as long as he wants, there’s an unspoken rule to leave All Might in the streets. Thankfully, Nana thinks, Kotarou understands the secrecy regarding Toshinori’s Quirk.

The reason why Toshinori is still All Might finishes toeing off his sneakers. He’s tall, slender, and perceptibly nervous. When he executes a short bow, his shoulder-length hair moves with him.

“Hello,” Toshinori’s friend (boyfriend? Nana wonders, a little alarmed at the thought, because Toshinori can only have known him for four hours, max, and now Toshinori has brought him here, perhaps to meet the family) says in awkward Japanese. “I am David Shield. It is nice to meet you.”

“I understand English,” she says, not unkindly. “Your accent is very good, though.”

Shield exhales in relief. “I wanted to try,” he says, sheepish. “I’ve taken classes, but it’s just--difficult.”

“You need a willing language partner,” Nana agrees. “Call me Shimura-san, David. Are you here for dinner?”

“If it’s no problem.”

“Oshishou,” says Toshinori happily, “Dave’s offered to build me a sturdier suit! I thought the least we could do is dinner, right?”

Then, Kotarou comes barreling down the hallway, only to come to a reeling halt at the sight of someone new. He ducks back behind Nana’s legs, wary of strangers. She reaches back to ruffle his hair, and notes that David looks similarly taken aback.

Dave, however, is apparently going to tailor a new suit for Toshinori. Nana studies the young man and his fine-boned hands--an engineer? a researcher?--and decides that she needs Sorahiko to take a second look.

“This is Kotarou, my son.” Nana smiles reassuringly. “And of course. A friend of Toshinori’s is always welcome. Take your time, boys. It’s chicken curry tonight.”

She retreats back to the kitchen, Kotarou in tow.

“Are you fixing my cooking?” she gasps, catching Sorahiko in the midst of seasoning the pan’s contents. He doesn’t even flinch, and tosses in another pinch of black pepper.

“Little bland. Overall, tastes like the box promised. Good job on not burning it.”

Nana scowls. “This is because we teased him this afternoon,” she tells Kotarou, and Kotarou finally unclenches his fingers from her sweatpants and laughs. She bops his nose with her finger, and informs Sorahiko, “Remember the boy Toshinori saved? He’s here for dinner, and his name is David Shield.”

“What,” says Sorahiko.

“He’s, hmm, offered to make Toshinori a suit, and Toshinori thought he should pay the favor back with dinner.”

“I don’t understand English yet,” Kotarou complains.

“There’s that too,” she adds, but comforts Kotarou with, “I’m sure he’ll understand Japanese if you speak slowly, Kota.”

Footsteps on the staircase. They’re both heavy-footed, Nana distantly registers, and they’re headed for Toshinori’s bedroom. Which is normal for friends to do. Heck, she and Sorahiko used to have sleepovers together. This is fine.

Toshinori has known Dave for, at most, four hours.

Sorahiko sets the ladle to the side. He appears to be tracking a similar line of thought, because he says, slowly, “You know, when Toshinori came out to us as bisexual last week, I didn’t think…”

“He didn’t have anyone in high school,” Nana points out. “If there’s any place to explore romance without consequence, it’s halfway across the world.” She grimaces. “Also, let’s not jump to conclusions. We shouldn’t assume everyone Toshinori brings home is a potential partner.”

“He doesn’t bring people home,” Sorahiko stresses.

“Before, Toshinori wasn’t able to.”

Kotarou’s eyes flick back and forth between them. Incredulously, he asks, “Toshi-nii has no friends?”

They wince. Toshinori has friends the way someone builds a rolodex; many people extend their friendship, and Toshinori accepts, stores their information (name; Quirk; details about family, likes, dislikes) away in his encyclopedic brain, and never pursues a follow-up. It isn’t something they taught him, but it’s not a habit they’ve tried breaking either.

“He has friends,” says Nana. “So, best behavior, okay?”

Sorahiko grimaces. He bobs his head, but Nana assumes he’ll ask pointed questions during dinner anyway. Depending on how good a mood Toshinori is in, maybe their charge will let the interrogation slide. If not, well, Toshinori knows how grouchy Sorahiko can be.

“Okay,” Kotarou replies, oblivious to the byplay. “When’s dinner?”

“Soon,” Sorahiko promises.

(There is a long stretch of time between David Shield and Sasaki Mirai. In the span of this time, Kotarou has grown up and gotten married and had two children. Nana and Sorahiko have officially tied the knot, and they are in the midst of renovating a small apartment complex in Yamanashi Prefecture. Following Sasaki is Tsukauchi Naomasa. Then Toshinori brings home Aizawa Shouta.

“He’s like you,” Nana mourns to Sorahiko, after cheerfully seeing Aizawa off. Toshinori is walking with him to the train station; it’s fifty-fifty on whether Toshinori will spend the night in his own apartment, or in Aizawa’s bed.

“How’s that,” Sorahiko grunts, locking the front door. They trail their way to bed.

“His kids will be his students.”

He glances at her. “Kotarou wasn’t my student.”

“He learned a lot from you anyway,” Nana promptly responds, and he snorts. She’s undeterred. “Anyway, I can only assume he’ll bond with every class, and act as their collective dad. Tons and tons of encouragement, complete with rigorous physical training.” She sighs as she pushes their bedroom door open. “All those extended grandchildren we may never get to meet…”

“Be glad,” Sorahiko suggests. “I can only imagine Toshinori fathering a child with even crazier dreams, and we’ve finally reached a point in our lives where we don’t have to deal with that shit.”

“You’ve jinxed it.”

“I’ve jinxed nothing.”

Four months later, when they are watching the Sports Festival live on television, staring at a fluffy green-haired boy shout ‘Smash’ battle-cries and perform therapy so bad (so well? The result may have been the goal), he’s knocked clear out of the tournament--

“I jinxed it,” says Sorahiko in disbelief, as Nana cackles and starts texting Toshinori to bring home Midoriya Izuku.)

#bnha #shimura nana #torino sorahiko #gran torino #yagi toshinori #all might #shimura kotarou #david shield #nanahiko #shih.txt #ostensibly: davemight #i need like three thousand more words to cover the rest #but i wanted to answer this ask so bad #asks #sxftcxts-uwu

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glamrockmonarch · 6 years ago

Text

Brian wouldn't be amused by the way I start my sentences...but oh well!

So I was browsing as one does first thing in the morning...and I saw this beauty of a post. Which was so short and precise, straight to the point...everything I am not. Naturally, I thought to myself "thats so cute!" And then I got hit by another post by someone else (I cannot find it, my app reloaded AHHH! TUMBLR MOBILE APP HELL!) where I saw some soft pictures of Joe with children...So...

I present to you:

Baby Fever: an AU

Aka a side project for this fine blog to forever be too much for me.

It's a series where I will just let out some steam from my soft soft heart in the form of writing about Daddy!Ben, Daddy!Gwil, Daddy!Rami, Daddy!Joe, and why the fuck not: Mama!Lucy. All in the same AU for my personal enjoyment!

And we're starting with Joe. Enjoy!

Second Time Around

Summary: You and Joe have a complex relationship, friends to lovers? Ah, yes? Now married for four years with a two year old boy to call your own, things lately have been busy for Joe, and you have put a hold on baby no. 2...Or have you?

"Joe?" You somehow manage to open the door while carrying the bag full of groceries.

The day has been menacing with rain since early in the morning and you knew you had very little time to get around your chores before it started pouring. You also had a busy night ahead of you, with the baseball on tonight, you know your husband will definitely want to cuddle with you and watch the game. Hence the beer and frozen pizza still in your car.

"Yes?" You heard two voices, different in their entirety coming from the hall.

Looking up, you felt a little helpless; struggling to keep the bag in your hands as you tried to make your way into the open kitchen space. Peaceful as ever Joe came into view in one of his sweatpants and a shirt, your beautiful little boy perched up on his hip giggling at Joe's beard that he kept playfully rubbing against his son's soft cheek and nose.

"Dada!" He wiggled in his arms.

"Obviously the one that goes to the gym and allegedly carried 70 pounds on Monday!" You huffed on your way past them.

You were just so drained from all energy you really needed Joe's help.

Joe gave baby Joey a look and rushed to say hello to you, as he had been busy that morning and didn't get to spend much time with you other than breakfast and that short moment when you kissed his lips before her drove Joe to daycare so you could get a head start on everything.

"Here, I'll get those," Joe said as he handed you Joe and let you take a breath.

You enjoyed those little moments when everything fit in so well. Joe was your best friend before you started going out romantically. You knew he had his history with other women, and he was a few years older than you...but you came to see him as something else. Joe seemed to realise you were all he ever needed and wanted at about the same time; it was a matter of weeks before you were official, after years of friendship but anyway: you moved quite fast! And it never felt like it was happening that fast at all, nor that you needed to catch to something. It was your own pace and it worked perfectly for you.

Now you ask Joey about his day and smile at him as he goes on and on about what he did at the day care today and what fun he had with Dada after he picked him up.

"Oh, you got invited to a party?" You opened your eyes wide.

Joey giggled and nodded while Joe came in through the door, kicking it closed behind him as he handled every remaining bag. Kudos to him: he didn't drop a thing.

Joe gave his son a smile and turned to you, acting as if he had been smelling around.

"I think we have a visit from Stinky, babe."

Joe pinched his nose once he put everything down on the counter.

You giggled and looked at Joey, who did need a shower but still acted as he was wondering who Joe could be talking about.

"I'll get started," you nodded up at the ceiling and Joe got it, starting to put the groceries in place. "Don't be late, captain!"

You took your son upstairs and ran the bath for him, making sure you had all his toys. After you tied your hair up and you got Joey undressed to put in the bath which he enjoyed very much.

"Mammy, do the thing with the shampoo!" He jumped around in the tub.

It was as if that was Joe's cue, he walked in then and made his way to the two of you.

"Alright, little man...that's Daddy's gig!"

You took a step back and let Joe do his thing, fooling around with Joey during bath time, not that you didn't join in...

And in fact it was a fun part of your day, laughing with your two favourite men in the world as Joey giggled with the towel wrapped around his little body.

It was safe to say that Joey was out as soon as you got him dressed in his pjs, this was maybe one of those moments that were simply yours regardless of Joe being home or not: your baby will always prefer being safely wrapped in your arms as he doses off to sleep. And that's exactly what he did while Joe read a bedtime story to him, which your little one didn't pay much attention to.

Finally, you sat with Joe downstairs in the living room wearing your comfy sweats and a tank top, sighing and laying your head on his shoulder you got around to watching the game. Joe wrapped his arm around you and held you, he could tell there had been something on your mind for the past couple of days but he knew better than to push you onto talking: you would talk to him when you were ready and that was more than okay.

"Joe?" You finally let out.

"Yes, YN?"

Joe played it cool because he didn't want to sound too eager to listen but he was curious and he was starting to get concerned.

"I'm pregnant."

The game was still on when you blurted the words out, regardless, Joe straightened up and turned to you. You sat up right as well, turning to him.

"You...what?"

Joe seemed to go pale, he knew you didn't want to have a baby at the moment, he was working more and he would be away from home for a while that year. You talked about it and agreed you would wait till next year...and yet: here you were sitting next to him looking some kind if way.

Joe examined your expression for a second and he knew what he was seeing. You were not scared, you couldn't be! You've done this before. And you were not mad either, a baby would never be a reason to make you mad... You were worried. You had every right to be, because you knew the struggles of pregnancy and you knew how hard and how easy some things had been even with Joe by your side so knowing now that you would be doing most of the journey without him and with Joey to care for was placing questions and worries in your mind.

"The doctor told me on Wednesday." You explained, "7 weeks."

Joe opened his mouth in astonishment, he didn't expect this news at all, it had only been a few weeks since you switched from the injections to the pill. He expected something else like you wanting to tag along for the five month shoot he was going on in July. He covered his mouth with his hand and then reached out to hold you, his arms wrapped tight and secure around your sensitive frame.

"Babe, that's wonderful!"

Joe kissed the top of your head to sooth you, he was already starting to feel his heart swell with love for your little baby.

"Yeah..." You mumbled on his shoulder and held on to him for what he felt was the longest he held you ever. "But I'm worried you'll miss most of this." You pulled away and put your hand on your still very normal not-pregnant-looking belly.

Joe gave you a side smile and brought his hand on top of yours, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

"YN, I'll find a way. Promise."

You looked into each other's eyes and although you didn't want to, you let out some tears. Which Joe quickly wiped away, kissing your cheeks he grabbed you and held you closer to him so you were almost completely laying on top of him with your head on his chest.

"You looked so pretty in those maternity panties...can't wait till they come back out!"

Strangely enough, Joe really did enjoy touching and holding you when you were pregnant the first time. He would always hold your hand at least, but mostly he loved to spoon you and run his hands all over your baby bumb all the way till the end of your pregnancy. He wasn't going to lie, he also quite enjoyed having sex with you during that time, it seemed something less kinky and more intimate than usual.

"Joe..." he made you giggle, which was his goal.

"Wait, does this mean I get to grow a dadstache?"

"Joe-no." You put your hand on his chest.

"Joe, ah-yes!"

Baby Fever Masterlist《《

#a fic nobody aaked for #joe mazzello fluff #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello #baby fever au

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chalkolate-fr · 6 years ago

Text

Project Constantine

I realize I’d never shared my robo boy’s lore here like I promised, so here it is!

I’m on mobile so I can’t put a read more :/ I’ll add the long post tag though! Hope you like the story!

And since tumblr hates l*nks I’ll just drop his ID and if anyone wants to check out his bio that’d be great! It’s way more organize than this tumblr post anyways ^^:

#48635920

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His body was crafted by dragon hands, shaped into the image of the Lightweaver’s creation. Like the tales of the gods, his creator had molded dragons after their own reptilian image, each breed distinguishable to each other yet still similar.

His mind, however, would be credited to another force. His creator, Argaesia, could not have fathomed or grasped the ability to grant consciousness. She only knew that when she powered up her machine's completed, cold, mechanical body, electrical magic flowed within; although, only one type of magic wasn't enough.

And once again, taking an homage back to the tale of the gods, especially the Arcanist, life was birthed from the machine. Maybe the Arcanist had seen the potential of new life like the machine that created him gave. A wisp of magic, violet and flowing, slipped between the cracks of the door, between the crevices of metal in the machine's body, tangling together with the blue tendrils.

Constantine opened his eyes, electricity filling his veins, and arcane magic shone through the hollow of the automaton. The machine whirred, newborn life flowing through the copper veins.

—————

"Ah, good, you're awake!"

A voice floats down from a distance, light, lilting and silky.

"You can open your eyes, now, no need to keep them shut,"

His lids slide open, allowing the light of the world to filter through. He scanned his surroundings, turning his head stiffly.

Amber candlelight dotted the room, illuminating the dragon grinning in front of him. The curtains beside him were loosely shut together, letting a few strips of blue morning light inside. Scraps, wires, tools, and metal littered the space, cluttered to no end. The dragon in front of him watched him intently. Numerous pairs of electric cyan eyes focus on him, and the corners of the Spiral's mouth turns upwards when she has observed him for a few seconds, seemingly satisfied. She jots something down on her clipboard. The Spiral knocked on his side, metallic echoes coming from his skin.

"Good, good..." She mutters, looking back up at his face. "much better."

"Now, let's try something... hmm..." The Spiral taps her claws rapidly against the clipboard she's holding, scribbling with her other hand. "Turn your head to the door."

He does as he's told, joints whirring, facing towards the dented and beat-up iron door. She seemed to be satisfied, writing down even more. He assumed she wrote about him on the paper.

"Try to say something to me,"

He opens his mouth, and noticed that the metal of his jaws did not creak loudly like last time before he slept.

"He...llo."

"Needs some work, but you're doing better! Move your right leg, wiggle them around,"

He does so as well, noticing too that his joints don't make noise anymore like the last tests he did.

"Good, now, try and follow me out the door. I'll let Tal see you," she leads him out, ordering him to open the door as one more test, before dashing to the front, waiting for him to catch up. "Act natural; it'd be funny if he thinks you're an actual dragon!"

Funny: causing laughter or amusement; humorous.

He manages a stiff nod, but she didn't see, already sliding out into the hallway, locking the door after him.

This was the first time he's been outside of the room. A wave of heat rises from his core as he follows the Spiral, processing the possibilities; the thought that this is his first time outside jolts him. Soft, off-white lights line the ceiling, the walls golden and immaculately clean unlike the room he's made a stay in since... well, the beginning. The air smelt sweet and fresh, like the flowers that his creator brought in one day, for a test. Another test.

Before long, the two of them enter the through an arch, into a field of flowers. A garden?

The little plants littered the ground, hiding between blades of light green grass; flowers thrived here, planted in an orderly fashion that he deduced to be the work of another dragon. A few trees overhang the garden, bearing still green fruits and olive leaves. Warmth filled the air, the glass dome above keeping the heat and moisture in for the plants. A dragon, curled around a wooden chair, held a leather-bound book in his hands, leaning against the table before him. He was covered in scales of faded jade, different from the dark, bold Spiral he was used to. The dragon before him, another Spiral dragon, noticed the two approach, closing his book after dropping in a bookmark. He raises a brow.

"Who's... this? Not another one of your 'guests,' Argaesia? I know they signed up for your experiments, but you should still tell them what you do first," The male glanced at him flittingly, before shifting his eyes back towards her. "And again, please don't bring me into your shenanigans either. I don't think it's funny."

Argaesia. His maker's name. He took note of that.

"What's... your, name?" He manages to croak out; his voice hasn't been refined yet, still having a gravelly quality, the chords in his throat made of a material too stiff, according to Argaesia. It often caused abrupt stops in speech and for his voice to be too deep.

"Uh, I'm Talos, if you didn't know, I'm Argaesia's brother," Talos reaches out his hand after leaving his seat. "aaand I'd really advise you to just take the money and go home. It's not really worth it. Look what she's done to your voice already!"

"My-y...voice-ce?" His voice stuttered again. Argaesia side-eyed him, muttering to herself while making another note on the paper. "It'-s okay. I-I'm fine. I've... al-ways been... like th-is."

"You sure? You can go home if you really want to," Talos retracts his hand after no one taking it, still offering a slight smile. He seemed kind.

Kind: having or showing a friendly, generous, and considerate nature.

"Sheesh, I'm not torturing him. Again, the dragons I brought signed up voluntarily! I've only had an accident three times, I'm not hurting them on purpose! Stop scaring him," Argaesia defended herself, patting his shoulders. "Right?"

"Y-yeah. She is... a gre-at cre-ator. We do... a lot of... te-sts."

"Creator?" Talos asked. He notices that the Spiral has a pattern of raising his right brows. "What?"

"Uhhhh, well, thank you! So sweet of you! I am a great at...making science! Ha!" Argaesia side-eyed him again. He's not sure he understands. "Well, better get going now, I-"

"ARGAESIA! YOU NEED TO TRY ON OUTFITS FOR THE BANQUET!"

A voice booms from down the hall, making both Spirals jump.

"Coming, Aunt Adela, coming," Argaesia massaged her temples, sighing. She threw her clipboard to him. "Uh, go back to the lab and wait for me to come back."

Swiftly, the Spiral flew off, accompanied by a cacophony of yelling and complaining. Without another word, he followed his order and began heading back down the hallway.

"Alright, see you later, I guess," Talos calls behind him. "Don't get lost, the palace gets confusing."

And after heading into the winding halls, before long, Talos' advice came true. He had not recorded a map of the hallways as he followed Argaesia. He wasn't told to. He clunked around, clutching the clipboard tightly; he couldn't understand what she wrote on it, but he was sure he if couldn't find his way back, Argaesia would write something negative. Disappointment would describe the feeling best, according to his dictionary.

Disappoint: fail to fulfill the hopes or expectations of (someone).

A click of a talon against the marble floor alerted him. He snapped his head around. It was Talos, watching him with a slight turn of the head. He stared back.

"Didn't think I'd run into you again so soon, uh," Talos tapped his chin. "What's your name again? Sorry..."

"I, um..." He answers, gears clicking the best they could, trying to sound normal. He didn't want Talos to think he's... weird. Then again, it was almost a miracle Talos thought nothing of the electric power packs slung over his back, had not heard the mechanical clicking coming from his innards. "Um..."

Heat rose from inside his core from him thinking so hard, before he remembered the clipboard he was digging his nails into. Maybe Argaesia could've recorded something on there, like his name. He flitted his eyes to the first page of paper on the clipboard. Graphs etched from machines, messy handwriting, and strings of numbers covered the paper. He didn't understand any of it deeper than the meaning of the separate words, except for the two words printed across the top of the page:

Project Constantine.

"Uh, are you okay? You don't have to answer if you don't want to..." Talos said.

"Constantine," He manages to say, without breaking any of his words this time. "Th-that's-my na-me."

"Ah, okay! Nice to meet, you, Constantine," Talos smiled, reaching out his hand. "Glad to have a chance to get to know you without having my sister around and messing it up."

"M-me too," Constantine gripped the other's hand. So that was his name now. He has a name like Argaesia, like Talos... "Ye-yeah..."

—————

#flight rising #fr #fr lore #flight rising lore #fr writing #long post #my writing #constantine #my ocs

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