#we'll get back to angst but i wanted to write something less heart breaking for once

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Phantom pain

Summary; Price said he would be back before Christmas, but you didn't think it would be like this.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot 

Word; 9k

Warnings; angst, injury, copious amount of fluff

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: Surprise update everyone! I've been feeling so festive this year, there's so much snow and everything's just so cosy, so this chapter comes as a little hurt to feel-good thing on the third of advent. If you don't celebrate Christmas or don't like the festive period, I simply hope that you have a great December nonetheless🥰

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

It had been a slow morning. Despite snow greeting you on the ground and in the air, you'd felt warm huddled in your jacket and the thought of cosying into one of the plush armchairs at your coffee shop. It had been serene; not many ventured outside in this weather. Yet, you'd smiled behind the lapel of your jacket when something other than cloudy skies and rain doused everything in a hue of grey.

You'd been in such a good mood that when you returned home with some pastries to go, saffron and caramel the main components in the golden danishes and tarts, you started a deep cleaning of your flat.

With the least Christmasy of Christmas songs playing from your speakers, you put up some festive lights, the warm glow softening every hard edge.

Although, while you're balancing on your stool, using some double-sided sticky tape to fasten a string of light behind your curtains, the music from your speakers is cut off by your phone ringing. You didn't think twice about heading to your phone, believing it was Marissa or one of your other friends. Yet, you stall when spotting the caller I.D. lighting up your screen.

Two weeks. John said his deployment would last two weeks. Of course, you would've been happy if he returned home earlier on any other occasion. But something made your stomach twist and your brows furrow when John now was calling less than a week and a half after he left.

"John?" You ask tentatively after answering the call and putting it on speaker.

"Sorry, lass, probably not the John ya wanted". Your heart fucking drops, your face falling in record time when it's a Scottish accent and not the easily recognisable British variant greeting you.

"J-Johnny?" Your voice breaks halfway through, unable not to. Even tears managed to well in the short seconds you realise what this call might be.

"Hey, easy, Price is alive and kickin'-"

"Oh god", you choke out the words, dropping to the couch behind you as you'd remained standing since you answered, for some reason. The tears that collected in the corner of your eyes trail down your cheeks upon your eyes shutting, more so from the sudden burst of relief than the fear that brought them.

"Fuck, you scared me, Johnny".

"Should've started with that", he excuses with a slight, strained chuckle before he clears his throat. "But... still callin' for a reason".

"Yeah, gathered that much", you return, wiping away your tears with your shirt sleeve.

"Captain got downed durin' the mission, nasty shot in the shoulder".

"What?" Your motion stills when you register what Johnny said, gaze falling to stare at the call-time ticking away tauntingly slow.

"Last time I saw him, he was in the infirmary and had just returned from a quick surgery".

"But is he alright?" You bring your phone closer to your face as if it somehow would make Johnny feel how you pressed for an answer.

"Huffin' and groanin' 'bout it but fine otherwise. He wanted me to call ya, knowin' the pain-meds he was forced to take wouldn't help him give good 'nough explanation of things".

"Okay, okay", you mumble. He's alive. Hurt but alive.

"He'll need to stay a while. But ya can come to see him if ya want".

"I can?"

"'Course, we'll be able to get ya a visitin' pass".

"Oh, thank you, Johnny", you breathe out.

"Nothin' to thank, lass. Can't stand the Captain's grousin' anymore". You chuckle half-heartedly at that. "I'll send you the details 'bout the visit and some information that's needed".

"Yes, yes, absolutely". You nodded along even if the Scot couldn't see the motion. "Send it over, and I'll fill out whatever's needed".

You don't know how much of a shit show things had turned into for them to return home early. Although, it must have been bad if not only John didn't go unharmed from it, but even Johnny seemed to have seen better days. 

It was hard not to notice his roughened-up look when he met you by the army base's outer perimeter about two hours later. There were a few cuts and bruises littering his face, and even though the Scot didn't hesitate to bring you into a comforting hug as you jumped out of your car, you noted the slight wince he waved off as a 'bruised everything'.

Even if you'd been shaken after ending the call with Johnny, you attempted to calm down, telling yourself 'John's fine' before leaving your flat. Yet, those nerves flared right up when you entered the small visitors' centre beside the road. Thankfully, the very man who'd given you the news of John seemed to notice that the military surroundings were vastly unfamiliar and unnerving for someone not used to them, especially considering why you were here.

Johnny kept close the entire time, helping you with the needed papers for the visitor's pass by pointing to where your signature was required, even if he talked familiarly with the armed guards all the while.

You took deep breaths to steady yourself numerous times, feeling the Scot's attention fall on you each time he noted the same unease he previously only caught over the phone. You knew you weren't succeeding in hiding your nerves. Nevertheless, between being in a strongly off-limits zone for usual civilians and the fact you wouldn't be here if John wasn't in a hospital bed, you don't think Johnny or any of the other soldiers blamed you for it.

When everything was finally signed and read through, Johnny scribbled his signature on the dotted line beside yours on the last page.

With the I.D. around your neck, you exited the smaller building and jumped into your car again, only now the Scot hitched a ride back with you.

Your fingers rapped against the steering wheel once you were let through the gates and rolled forwards, teeth worrying your lower lip, eyes trained on the main compound further ahead.

"Lass", your eyes had swiftly adverted to Johnny, noticing his eyes shifting to your hands. You stopped with a tight lipped smile, your gaze having adverted forward again. "Price is roughened up but fine. He's been through much worse".

"I know", you sighed, having to hold yourself from going back to biting your lip. You'd seen John's scars, some on worryingly critical places on his abdomen. "But I haven't been there to see that...", you mumbled, eyes fixed on the parking lot ahead.

You and Soap didn't share much chatter as you parked, nor more than needed as he guided you through the building closest to the parking lot. However, he offered a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder when he saw you hesitate in the elevator upon reaching the medical wing. 

A327. That was the room John apparently was in. 

You looked at each door you passed, waiting for the right one. 

324. 325. 326. 

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you finally reached 327.

With hands intertwining hands, fingers wringing each other, you merely stand rooted before the door. All of a sudden hesitant to step inside.

"He's gonna be fine, lass". Johnny's comment makes you look up at him. A gentler smile than usual meets you, causing you to release the breath you didn't know you held as you nod. "Let's get ya to meet him". The Scot gives you an encouraging smile as he opens the door, motioning for you to enter.

John's already facing your way when you step into the room that nearly shines white and beige. But your gaze only briefly meets his before it drops, flittering over his form. 

He rests beneath multiple blankets that reach his stomach, his upper body clad in a soft white t-shirt that doesn't look like his own. Your jaw clenches when you spot his arm in a sling, stabilising it against his chest. As your eyes trail further upwards, a distressed sound bubbles up in your throat upon spotting the bandages peeking from beneath the left sleeve.

"John-", you don't manage to say anything more before you stutter to a stop, chest heaving on a sharp inhale.

"C'mere, love", his voice is hoarse, strained, barely more than a grating sound, but you move forward as on command.

You can't help how your mouth purses at how tired he looks, the hint of pain in his eyes so evident when you stop beside the bed.

"M'fine", John raises the arm of his healthy side, even so, he winces, eyes shutting tightly for a brief moment before they open again.

"Don't lie, I see that you're not", you murmur as you take hold of the hand that tried to reach your face, allowing his upper arm to drop and rest along the bed, instead meeting him halfway by bending down to kiss his knuckles.

John exhales deeply, eyelids fluttering close, the crease between his brows never smoothening. God, it hurts to see him like this. 

You step closer, the side of the bed pressing into your thigh, planting a kiss at the very centre of the furrow. When you look down at John again, his features have softened, but his eyes still have a troubled look when that blue gaze meets yours.

"I'll leave ya two to it". You look over your shoulder, sending Johnny a look of gratitude.

"Thank you, Soap", John says. The Scot only nods in return, giving you a last look before he exits.

Once you're alone with John, you exhale almost painfully before gazing down at him. 

"You don't know how scared I got when Johnny called", you admit. This time, John pulls your hand rather than face towards him, tipping his head forward to plant a firm kiss against your knuckles. "Thought-"

"Sit down, love". Upon catching your distress, John pats the side of his bed with a gentle voice. Although his attempt does little to ease your nerves, seeing how the slight move of his legs sideways to give you space only makes his features twist.

"Not a chance", you protest with a shake of your head, fearful of accidentally hurting him more. Instead, you glance around the room, finding a pair of chairs along the wall.

John doesn't hold you back as you release him and move towards them, but you guess it's more because he can't then don't want to. 

You pull the chair along and put it as close to the hospital bed as possible, not hesitating to lean over the low metal railing at the side to hold John's hand again after sitting down, your other hand settling on his forearm, rubbing soothing motions. 

You gaze up at the blue-eyed man, those pretty eyes of his duller than usual, exhaustion shining in its own faded might. His brown hair is one of the few darker accents in the room; the screen of the heartbeat monitor is the other source. Yet, it's matted, fallen to its own will against his forehead rather than styled into something casual by his fingers running through it and pushing it backwards. 

Leaning forwards, your card your hand through John's hair, not nearly correcting it to how he usually does, but better nonetheless. 

Your gaze flitters to meet his when you settle back in your seat, noting the smile adorning his lips. 

"Happy to see you again, love". Not daring to test your voice, you kiss his knuckles in return. This time, you're positioned low enough that John's hand goes to cup your face when you lean away again, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. "Even if it could've been under better circumstances".

You don't notice it until John's thumb paints a streak of wetness over your skin, but he redirects a stray tear rather than letting it follow its natural path.

"You're here. That's what matters". You squeeze John's wrist, leaning away to wipe your cheeks yourself, offering him a smile with a breathed chuckle.

"Was never not close to return". John wraps his hand over yours, letting them drop to the bed as he reflects your smile. "Shoddy shot whoever they were, used a handgun in close combat and still missed the brachial artery and brachial plexus", John releases one of those huff-chuckles of his. You shake your head, having no idea what difference it would make if whoever shot him hadn't missed those points, only that it probably would've been a lot worse.

"What- what went wrong?" Your gaze flickers to his injured side.

A heaved sigh escapes him before he speaks.

"Mission was bumpy from the start but went fine". You knew he let confidential details out, but you didn’t want to know anything apart from what happened to him. "Needed to wait out exfil in an abandoned buildin'. Remained remarkably silent until we got the call to move to the pick-up point. Got ambushed, absolute shitshow". He shakes his head with a grunt.

"How's the others?" You'd seen two of the four men, though Ghost and Kyle's absence suddenly irked you upon hearing what John told you.

"Bruised but none too badly". John ran his thumb over your hand. A low, partly amused, partly exasperated huff escaped him as he continued. "My turn to take the brunt for the team, it seemed".

Even if you could've wished for a better outcome for John, at least none of the others had gotten off worse. 

You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you really try to take in his state, trying, only try again to find your words. Seeing John like this almost feels wrong. 

You'd witnessed his soft side, but this wasn't soft. This is hurt. He wasn't sluggish as when you managed to keep him in bed rather than rise with the birds on the occasional weekend. This was exhaustion, one he tried to hide, but the lines on his face exposed nonetheless. 

Barely anything could've pulled your attention from John as you tried to find your words, any consolidation that wouldn't sound like pity. And yet, when a knock sounded from the door, soon after swinging open, both your and John's eyes are pulled to the entrance.

When you spit the woman striding into the room, your brows jump up.

"Kate? Didn't think you would be here". Upon noticing you sitting by John's side, the American woman stalled, the computer beneath her arm pulled in front of her.

"I was involved in the mission the boys went on". She juts her chin towards the man at your side. "Mind if I speak to him?" Her tone wasn't stern, nothing hinting at malice or desire to break you and John up. Still, it didn't really sound like she asked.

You looked from Kate to John, not really stunned compared to feeling how a bubble unexpectedly broke. "Oh, yes, of course, I'll wait outside". 

Considering how neither stopped you as you stood, John only squeezing your hand before letting go, you took it as an affirmation this wasn't a conversation you had any clearance to be present for and that one way or another would've happened either way.

Even so, Kate offers you a kind smile as you pass her on the way out. Yet, you note the blonde woman's features looked tighter than on the night of the party, without a doubt due to the predicament making John end up in a hospital bed.

When the door falls shut behind you, you lean against the wall just to the left of the entrance. It's silent to a degree you would guess the room John's in is semi, if not entirely, sound-proofed. Considering it isn't an emergency wing, you wouldn't disregard the possibility.

You sigh, eyes falling close. What a fucking day.

You don't know how long you stand like that, but you're only dragged out from whatever trance you entered once you catch the elevator stopping on your floor and the steps coming closer soon after. Considering you'd anticipated a nurse or the like, your brows rise when the pristinely white surroundings suddenly stand in stark contrast to the person dressed in dark army clothing.

"Heard from Soap you would be around". You smile as you push off the wall, meeting Kyle as he closes the distance between you. "How are you holding up?" The question brushes past your shoulder as he brings you in for a hug before keeping you within arm's distance, studying what must be your tired features.

"As good as can be". You smile in return. The young Brit rubs your upper arms reassuringly as he nods, seeming content with your answer as his arms drop to his sides. "You here to visit John?"

"I was, got some gaps in my schedule", Kyle confirms before cocking his head. "But I guess I'll have to wait, considering you're not there with him".

”Kate is paying him a visit”. He looks at the door with a furrowed brow before his attention tracks back to you and it smoothens. ”If you wanna greet him, maybe you have enough authority to”. Kyle only shakes his head. 

”If Laswell wanted to talk to him first, there’s a reason. The rest of us will know in due time. Hopefully, he ain't such a grouse by then”. He shrugs, and you can't stop your laugh. This time, it's not half-hearted nor forced.

"All of you laying it on thick about how grumpy he is".

"He isn't such a charmer when things don't go his way and he isn't surrounded by pretty faces". You swat Kyle on the arm as he sends you a look. "Only telling you the truth, not all of us get special treatment".

"Yeah, yeah, alright", he nudges your shoulder with his knuckles before stepping backwards.

"Send the Cap'n my regards, have to be on my way".

"Will do. Have a good day, Kyle". He gives you a nod of goodbye in return as he turns on his heel, heading back to the elevator he came from a few minutes ago. You offer him a last wave before the door closes.

Alone again, you look at the clock on the wall. But, considering you have no recollection of when you exited the room, you can't tell how much time has passed since Kate arrived, only guessing it must be at least a dozen. 

You scan the corridor, finding sporadic rows of chairs along the wall, similar to the ones in John's room. Not knowing how long John and Kate's unofficial meeting would continue, you move to one of the seats across from where you'd stood, fishing up your phone to make time pass faster as you sit down.

Taking note this time, you know another ten minutes have passed before the door opposite you opens and pulls your eyes from your screen.

You slip your phone into your pocket as you push up from the seat and head towards Kate, Even though she’s keeping the door open with one hand on the handle, you barely catch the end of John's sentence before it ends.

Just as you reach her side, Kate's attention trails from John to you, giving you space to enter by stepping out of the room. Flashing her a brief smile, you move forward but suddenly gets halted when her hand slips around your upper arm.

"It's good to see the Captain's got someone with him", her voice is lowered, only for you to catch.

Your lips tug upwards in a genuine smile. Without really knowing how to answer that, you offer Kate a nod and a small 'thank you' in return.

The smile she reciprocates with is much less strained this time around. "Take care of him now".

"I will". And with that, she nods goodbye, heading down the hallway while you re-enter the room. 

"Spoke with Kyle". You begin while closing the door behind you. "He says hello". You forward his message to avoid forgetting. 

When your eyes fall upon John, whom you barely catch an answer from, at least not more than a hum, you notice how he's sunken deeper into the bed.

"You tired?" You retake your place in the armchair as he hums again. As John scoots closer to your side and stretches his hand towards you, you settle your elbow on the bed and intertwine your hands again.

"Laswell was worried, wanted to check in and inform me some things that needed finishin' could wait". The pauses between his words were prolonged, and the pronunciation drawled as he briefed you on his conversation with Kate. "Should finish them, though", he grunted, trying to sit up straight against the pillows, but you settled a hand on his stomach.

"You need to rest, John. If Kate said things could wait, trust her". He stilled, looking back at you with slow, almost drowsy blinks.

"Fine", he agreed, settling into the bed again.

 As he sighed, eyes fluttering close, you felt something bleed from your body, making your upper body relax forwards, head settling on the verge between John’s hip and his lower stomach. Feeling the weight, his eyes flutter open, head tilting forward as he gazes at you. 

"Mm, talk to me, love, what you've been up to".

"Not much, really. I worked and met up with some friends. Oh, Marissa and I went on a little investment spree for Christmas".

"Investment?" John humours in a low voice, the twitch in his mouth unable to pull his lips into a complete smile compared to only tilting the edges upwards.

"If they're going to be reused yearly, that's an investment". He chuckles deeply, and you release a chuckle of your own.

You continue talking about what you've done in the week and a half you've been apart. Some Christmas baking, putting up decorations as of today, noting how most things out of the ordinary related to the holiday season. 

Gradually, you notice how John's eyes fall close. Even so, he's still invested in the conversation with few-worded responses. But even those soon become nods and hums when his hand relaxes in yours. As you move to gently trail your fingers up and down his forearm, all while continuing to talk, the soothing motions make him heave a sigh. 

Soon enough, the only sounds he lets out are the breaths escaping his parted lips, his softened breathing followed by the rhythmic movement of his chest. 

You trail off in your sentence with a small smile, watching John's sleeping features. No furrow pulls his brows together, no involuntary twinge in his features letting on his pain. He looks at ease, and it finally settles your nerves as well. 

In stark contrast to how you notice John's consciousness slipping, you don't detect yours slowly doing the same. 

Your movements up and down his skin slowly grow shorter, from trailing between his wrist to the crook in his arm to only rubbing the spot your hand eventually stills on. The tension in your neck releases from the claws of whatever emotions had built throughout the tumultuous day, your head feeling heavier as it rests against his stomach. There's a fine line between when your blinking turns from slow to prolonged, even slimmer to when you can pinpoint your last conscious thought.

You're not the first to wake up. John's the one who stirs when a knock sounds from the door.

If not for the pain in his shoulder, despite being suppressed, he wouldn't blink his eyes so blearily and feel his mind sluggishly awake compared to what's expected of someone like him. Even so, his senses are sharper than yours as he notes your form slumped over the bed and your head resting on him, serene features remaining much like your steady breaths bleeding through the blankets.

His eyes trails to the door, releasing a low sound that must have sounded like a grunt to whoever was on the other side, but he couldn't care. The door swings open, Soap stepping through it much like he'd done a few hours earlier, but then with you by his side. 

Now, the Sctosman closes the door behind him gently upon noting your sleeping form before his attention settles on John.

As Soap steps further into the room, John's eyes flit down to your sleeping form before rising again. With a swift look at the clock, he knows what the Sergeant is probably here for. He softly settles his hand upon your head.

You don’t remember falling asleep, only that John did, so when you’re roused from a dreamless nap by a hand cradling your scalp, you feel groggy when sitting up straight all too suddenly. 

You blink repeatedly as your vision focuses again, finding John looking at you, his hand sliding down to the back of your head and down your arm.

"Sleep well?"

"Mhm". You roll your head, twitching at the twinge in your neck from your not-so-ergonomic sleeping position.

"Not the comfiest spot for ya". The Scottish accent catches you off-guard, as last you checked, only you and John were in the room.

You turn around, spotting the very Scot who'd spoken. "Oh, hi, Johnny".

"Hey, lass", he chuckles in return. "Just came ’bout to inform ya there’s a room waitin' if ya want to stay the night". 

Your brows lift, eyes shifting to John, who's already watching you. "You don’t need to. I’ll be holed up here either way".

"It will just be less travel tomorrow", you shrug, turning back to Soap as you confirm you'll stay.

"Come on then, lass, visitin' hours are over soon". He opened the door slightly as he spoke, showing you he would guide you to your room for the night. You nodded, shifting out of your seat to stand, not without looking down at John.

"Go, get some proper sleep", he nudges your hip. You give him a brief smile before bending down, pressing your lips against his. They're chapped, but their plush warmth is soft. As you part from him, you mumble a 'goodnight' against him, an equally low 'goodnight, love' murmured against your lips, warming you further before you pull away.

You place the chair back where it's meant before fetching your things from beside the bed and offer John a last parting smile and a 'see you tomorrow'.

Just before you pass through the door, you look back at John, offering him a small wave, one he answers with a warm smile.

"You really turn the Captain into a love-sick man", Johnny's comment comes seconds after the door closes. You turn to him, seeing the amused look he sends you.

"Oh, shut up". You swat Johnny's arm, making him bark out a chuckle.

"Ain't nothin' bad, lass", he mused, nudging you back with his elbow.

The Scotsman lead you to another part of the compound, a freestanding building just across the one you exited, at the other side of the parking lot. 

It had begun snowing. Fat constellations of powdery white fall through the air as you trudge through what's already covering the ground. You flick up the lapel of your coat, burrowing your nose in the fabric as you protect your eyes from the snowflakes desiring to stick to your lashes. 

When you entere the building you'd been heading toward, the warmth inside was a welcoming change, and you shrug away the snow that had yet to melt into the dark fabric enveloping you. 

This time around, there was no need to sign papers as upon your arrival, Johnny simply led you straight to the room appointed for you, handing you the key when stopping outside the door. As you entered, you were surprised, not knowing what you'd anticipated, but certainly not a space similar to a hotel room.

A low whistle pulls your eyes to Johnny. "Aye, not bad", his eyes rove over the room before settling on you.

"Much better than I thought", you agree, stepping inside, shrugging the bag off your shoulder, and simply putting it on the floor.

"Didn't think we would put ya in the barracks, did ya?"

"Never experienced military hospitality before, but didn't expect much", you shrug, smiling in return as you turn to face him.

He shakes his head. "That's the thanks", he quips, yet his grin deceives him. "I'll see ya in the mornin', lass".

"Johnny!" He halts in the step he'd begun to take, watching you with raised brows. "Just, thank you for... everything today". His fingers rap against the door handle as he shifts the weight on his feet.

"Knew it probably would be tough for ya and that Price probably hadn’t even thought ‘bout having ya visit here yet. S’jus' wanted to make it as smooth as possible for the both of ya. Know he would've done the same for the rest of us", he shrugs with a gentle smile. Johnny's consideration warming your heart.

"Thank you, really".

The side of his mouth bows upwards. "Ya are welcome". And with that, he closes the door.

***

When you wake up in an unfamiliar room, remembering where you are takes a few seconds. Then it comes rushing back as you see the visiting pass on the bedside table. Johnny’s phone call. John’s injury. The military base. 

You sit up with a jawn, peeking out the room's sole window.

It’s utterly white outside, with no cloud in the sky as the sun just about peeks over the horizon, suggesting today will be considerably colder than yesterday.

Slipping from bed, you’re quick to dress yourself. The t-shirt you slept in gets stuffed into your handbag as you only shrug on the hoodie from yesterday, slipping into your pants not soon after.

You move to the bathroom, lamenting the lack of anything to freshen up. Even so, you splash your face with water, trying to tame your hair before sighing heavily, simply fetching the hair-tie you’d remembered to take off your wrist before bed. 

Moving around the room, you remember the package of gum you’d thrown into your bag a few days ago, hoping you hadn’t chewed through the whole package when it would ease your mind about morning breath.

You rummage through your bag, cursing what yesterday didn't feel like a lot of stuff, but now does as you search for what you need. 

A swift two-rap knock echoes from the door just as a triumphant sound escapes you when you spot the silvery package. Popping a gum into your mouth, you move towards the entrance, not surprised to find Johnny on the other side as you swing it open.

”Good morning”. 

Johnny cocks his head as you smile at him before he splits into his own grin. ”Ya seem cheery this mornin’.”

”Seeing that John’s doing good helped me sleep better”, you shrug, catching a hum from him as you turn around to collect your stuff around the room. ”And then the bed was surprisingly good”.

”These ones are heaven in comparison to those in the barracks”.

”Yeah?” You turn towards the Scot standing with his hands behind his back, waiting at the doorstep.

“Aye, happy to not be rookie anymore”.

”Understandable”, you chuckle as you and Johnny step out into the hallway before tracking the same path you’d done yesterday. You could’ve done it yourself but had an inkling that you couldn’t move freely on the base.

”So you’re my guide while I’m here?” Blue eyes flicker down to you as he lets you pass out the door to the courtyard first.

It’s indeed colder today than yesterday, the chill biting your cheeks.

”Aye. Concernin’ Price was bed-bound; I needed to sign those papers in his stead”.

”And you don’t have better things to do?” 

”L.T. gave me five minutes to spare”.

”From what?” The snow crunches beneath your shoes.

”Whatever drill he set up to run us into the ground”. You let out a surprised laugh at that, making the Scot grin. ”Yaself then, lass, goin’ to keep an eye out on the Captain for us when he leaves?”

Your eyes widen, switching to look at Johnny once evading an ice-spot as you cross the parking lot. ”He’s cleared to go home?” 

”Haven't got any confirmation on it. But he's got no vital injury and has stayed close to two days, so it’s probable he’ll get to go home”, he shrugs.

The warmth rushes against your face as you enter the main building, much like yesterday, taking a right towards the medical wing.

”Feel like I’ll need to. Otherwise, he’ll stress the injury”.

”Wouldn’t be the first time any of us did that”. Johnny rubbed his neck as you raised your brows at him. He positioned himself opposite you as you stepped into the elevator, giving you a sheepish shrug. ”Comes with the job sometimes despite medical leaves”, the Scot excused the habit, only making you roll your eyes with a disbelieving huff.

”Then I’ll definitely have to ensure he takes it easy”. The doors close, and the elevator smoothly rises.

”Price won’t be able to say no to ya, never has since he met ya”. When your head dips into a shake this time, a smile adorns your lips that you try to hide. Even so, the Scot slung his arm around your shoulders with a laugh as you exited the elevator upon its chime and the doors opening.

The walk to John’s room seems much shorter than yesterday, without a doubt, because you know of his stable state. So when Johnny drops his arms from your shoulders, it’s not with bathed breath you open the door. 

Unlike yesterday, your eyes don’t lock with John’s the second you enter the room designated to him. His gaze remains cast downwards on the tablet in his lap, even if his head tilts your way to show he noted someone had entered. Not until the Scot behind you offers a ’Mornin’ Captain’ does the man in the bed look up.

”What was that about makin’ him take it easy?” Johnny chuckles lowly, making you send him a look before he departs with a mock salute. You only shake your head at the man before entering the room.

”Aren’t you meant to take it easy?” You watch John with a raised brow, catching how the door slides close behind you while you slip out of your coat. 

”I am”.

”Let me rephrase”, you chide him with a smile. ”Shouldn’t you relax, no work?” You move to the side of his bed with one of the chairs dragged along behind you.

”I-

”Don’t say that you are John. I know that look on your face”, you remark with a finger towards the easing purse of his lips and the furrow between his brows that’s not brought on entirely by pain like yesterday.

He sighs heavily, a locking sound coming from the tablet as he drops it screen-down in his lap. ”You’re right”.

 ”I know I am”. John releases a huff of laughter through his nose at your comment, softening your smile. ”Did you sleep well?”

He hums. ”Woke a few times ’cause of this-”. He jerked his head to his shoulder. ”Bed probably goin’ to set off my back”, he scoffed in annoyance at having to deal with the twinge in the lower part of his spine that you’d learnt most often came and went more frequently after he returned from a deployment or a bad mattress. 

You hum, leaning forward to card your fingers through his hair that had fallen across his forehead after his previous jerky movement. While you do, you catch John returning the question, but your answer is an undeveloped ’good’, all your attention upon the locks your fingers card through.

His hair feels matted, and when your eyes briefly flicker over his face, you note his beard is untamed, not grizzly, but it’s lost the shine it usually always has.

”When was the last time you showered?”

”That's your way of tellin’ me I smell?” Your nose scrunches, hand falling to rest on the metal railing as your gaze locks with John’s amused one.

”No, at least that wasn’t what I was getting at”. 

A chuckle precedes the more serious answer you get. ”About a week ago at the last safe-house, haven’t been able to have one after returnin’. Can’t wet the bandages”. You purse your lips, gaze momentarily switching to his shoulder before trailing back.

”How long before you can take them off?”

”The Doc visited before you came around and said I’m clear to leave, but the bandages needed to stay on until tomorrow”.

You nod. ”Johnny betted you would be able to go home today”.

”We know how these thing goes. Instructions about wound care, then sent off on med-leave before even attempting to come back and get shot at again”.

”Jesus, John”, you let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head. When you raise it again, there’s a slight tug in the corner of his mouth and a knowing, truthful, look in his eyes. "Better we get you home and start the arduous wait, then." You offered him a smile and a raise of your brows, silently wondering if he was ready to pack up.

"Can't wait".

It wasn't a hassle to get John out of bed. He groaned and gruffed to himself as he pushed himself upright with your hand steadying him on his back, but that was about it. As he rose from the bed, you helped him into his boots and gently slung the jacket draped over his duffel-bag on the other side of his bed. 

You'd sent him a look when he'd noted you of the bag's presence, remembering it wasn't there yesterday, to which he only explained Kyle got around and dropped off his things just after the Doctor had visited.

Although standard issued and didn't seem too heavy once you made the proposition to carry it instead of him, you cursed in disbelief when slinging it over your shoulder, not anticipating its weight. It had given John a good laugh before offering to take it regardless. However, you remained stubborn, motioning for him to take the lead out of the room with a 'you don't know how heavy our purses can be sometimes'.

But you don't enjoy a second of it as you trudge through the building; you more than John slowing the tempo. He catches you grumbling under your breath numerous times about what he's got in there, falling back to walk beside you once you reach the parking lot, mentioning he doesn’t desire looking back and find you toppled over in a heap of snow. He'd gotten another glare upon that comment.

You'd thought the drive home to John's would've been less arduous, but you'd found yourself unable to relax just as much, but for entirely different reasons.

With each turn of the car, you noticed how John braced his feet against the floor so as not to move in his seat, his free hand slipping beneath the seat belt to keep it from digging into his injury at times.

The way he acted made you all the more cautious in your driving, even picking routes that had more straight for his sake. You knew John noticed when you didn't take the usual right about halfway through the drive by the glance in your direction.

By the time you pulled into his driveway, the sky had darkened, and snow had started falling, making your and John's retreat into the house from the car hasty. Nonetheless, he managed to escape the weather that was worsening by the second much quicker compared to you as you fetched his bag from the booth.

You don't take more than a few steps into the foyer before you slip John's bag to the floor. When the pressure of the straps disappears, you sigh in relief.

John's chuckle makes you send him a glare. However, it melts away when your gaze finds the absolute disarray of his hair, now a combination of dirty and wet from the snow.

"Come one, I'll help you freshen up". You say, closing the door behind you, shielding you from the chilling cold.

"No need, love". You send him a look over your shoulder as you take off your coat, finding John stepping out of his barely laced boots.

"Why? You always have a shower when you get home?"

"If you have forgotten, can't get this wet for a day more". John nods to his shoulder as he faces you. "Can just wait 'till tomorrow".

Your brows furrow, and your hand falls to your hip while hanging up your coat. "John, I know how religious you are about your routine once you come home. There is no need to skip it just because you can't do it yourself when I simply can help".

You see his resolve falter somewhat as he regards you. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all", you shake your head. "Wouldn't mind a hot shower to warm up in this cold house of yours". A smile tugs in the corner of your lip when you end the sentence with an exaggerated wink.

It makes John chuckle as he shakes his head before those blue eyes rise to follow you when you approach. "Don't think I could supply that need now".

"Out of us two, I'm the one who can go a bit without being dicked-down". You kiss John's cheek as you slide the jacket from his shoulder, catching the harsh sigh as you wander to hang up his piece of clothing beside yours.

"That a challenge?" He hums as his un-injured arm sneaks around your waist as you finish your task, gently turning you around to pull you towards him. "Besides, I got other ways to satisfy you". 

"Oh, I know". You give John a softer look as your hand slides down his forearm before gripping his hand, moving it to hang beside your bodies. "But let's listen to the doctor for now and let you heal up first". You offer him a smile as you back away and head into the house, John letting himself be led by you as you steer towards the stairs.

Not until you've reached his bedroom do you let go of his hand, ushering him to the bathroom as you move to his dresser. You swiftly dig through it for a new pair of pants, opting not to bring a shirt, believing neither of you could bother the hassle of attempting to put it on.

"Strip", you wave your finger towards John as you step over the threshold to join him in the en suite.

"Thought Doc's orders applied". You catch the smugness in his voice, sending him a humoured look, one he answers with a wink as he moves to sit down on the lid of the toilet. While John rid himself of the pants he'd gotten from the hospital, you place his own pair on the sink. 

While he kicks them aside, your attention falls on the white shirt still covering his upper body. A furrow enters your brows, lips pursing. It would be challenge to take it off even if you helped him, being an uncomfortable and possibly painful process no doubt.

"Just cut it off". Your eyes meet John's, checking if you heard him right. With his head falling sideways in a nod, you move to the sink drawer to fetch the scissors, silently agreeing it might just be the easiest thing to do.

Mindful of the sling and bandages, you rid John of the thin cotton shirt, leaving him in only his boxers briefs. 

While you turn around to throw the strips of his shirt into the bin, John stands, moving around you toward the shower. By cocking your hip, you swiftly close the drawer after putting back the scissors.

As you turn to say something to John, you catch him stabilising himself on the edge of the sink, knees just about to bend. Realising what he is about to do, all your previous thoughts are promptly cut short.

”You’re not kneeling on the floor." John stalls in his movement, looking at you. If he says anything in return, you don't catch it as you're already on your way out of his room.

The spare bathroom, which was under renovation the first time you visited, has now been finished. But you remember the stool John had used was yet to be taken to the spare room downstairs. Although you'd reminded him about it every time you'd been over, now you were thankful as you could fetch it as something John could sit on rather than the floor.

With a slight shuffling step, you bring the stool along with you and to where John waits, leaning against the sink, his eyes finding you the second you're visible through the open door of his en suite.

"Sit”, you motion to the stool you brought once John had moved to the side and let you set it down inside the shower's glass doors. A slight tug that doesn't evolve into a smile is present at the edge of his mouth as he follows your command.

When John makes himself comfortable on the stool, you gently nudge the back of his head with your fingers, urging him to bow forward to make it easier for you. Even sitting down, he reaches your stomach.

Pushing up the sleeves of your hoodie, you turn on the tap, testing the water steadily flowing from the showerhead on your hand. When finally finding the perfect temperature, you keep the stream gentle so as not to splash the bandages covering his left arm but rather trickle forward and down to the floor. 

Small groans of appreciation escape John as you wash his hair, fingers running over his scalp to wet every single strand before setting down the showerhead and massaging some shampoo over his head. Earthy and clean scents fill the warm air as it steams every reflective surface inside the bathroom.

You do a double cleanse, not because you think John needs it, but because he seems to enjoy the gentle pressure off your fingers as they run up and down his scalp. 

After washing away the last sudds, you take a towel from the rack and cover his head. Your laughter fills the air as you hear the huff of amusement from beneath the fabric draped over him as you attempt to dry his hair as much as possible by ruffling the fabric.

Ultimately, you slide the towel from his head, letting it hang around his neck to catch any stray droplets from reaching his shoulder. John turns towards you upon having his vision uncovered again, and you instinctively step closer when he does, inspecting his face.

”I don’t trust myself trimming your beard”, you card your fingers through the brown strands on his cheek. A low huff pulls your eyes to the blue ones steadily watching you.

”Can do that myself in a day or two. You’ve done plenty enough, love”. John’s about to stand, but your hand softly settles on his healthy shoulder.

”I only said I don’t want to go near the best part of you with scissors”.

”The best part, eh?” He pinches the back of your lower thigh, a squeak slipping out of you as you bat his hand away with a lower lip curled between your teeth.

”Don’t bite the hand that feeds you”, you chide with an evolving smile. 

You catch John’s chuckle as you switch your attention to the counter, eyeing his products as neatly lined up as usual and the set of your own products beside them. Stepping away to the sink and out of his reach, you grab one of the face towels from the stack he’d bought for you to always have at his place, along with the other products needed.

When you turn back, you set the things on the sink-edge beside you. 

”Said I can’t shape it up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make the most out of what I can do”.

”You pamperin’ me?” Your eyes flit sideways, meeting a blue gaze watching you with a tilted head.

”I’m taking care of you, John”, you corrected him as you turned to wet your hands beneath the tap and squirted some cleanser into your hands. 

John doesn't respond, only remains quiet when you start coating his face in the milky substance, merely staring up at you for a few seconds before his eyes flutter close when you cock a brow down at him.

You gently rub away the invisible grime on his face, staying clear of his beard as you lather his face. Humming gently, you wipe away the suds after a few dozen seconds and continue with the beard shampoo. 

You’d seen the man, who now lets his chest deflate with a content sigh as you easily angle his head backwards with a few fingers beneath his chin, do his beard-routine a few times. It wasn’t difficult to remember, and you’re happy you didn’t need to ask John and bring him out of the relaxed state he’d entered as you used one of the brushes to rub the product into his beard.

Using the opposite edge of the towel, you also dry off his beard. 

You wash off the white foam from the brush as you discard the towel before coating his skin in your moisturiser, only to continue by dropping some oil into your palms before you settle them over his lower face, smoothening them over the strands. 

As you shift to the sink again, you reach for his comb, only to find John’s eyes had fluttered open when you turn back. 

Those blues of his are soft as you gently comb his facial hair with slow movements. His hand settles on the outside of your thigh when you pick up the beard balm, warming it between your palms. The vanilla white lotion softens and warms between your hands before you work it through his beard. 

Slowly, John's hand moves to the back of your leg while fingers lightly start tracing the line of his beard and skin, both much smoother than previously. 

The moment was soft, gazing at one another in silence, before you cupped John's cheek and bent down. A gentle smell of something nutty from John's beard invades your nose as you press your lips against his. 

Even if you end up trading multiple kisses, the pauses never let you drift further away than for your lips to rush against one another.

John felt the last bit of tension leave his body. Something awfully soft had infiltrated his heart as you fussed around him, your hand leaving gentler touches than even the Doc had done when he’d returned from the field with his shot-up shoulder. He’d tried to ward off your help and doting, but now he realised he needed this.

He’s been on 24/7 for over a week. He’s run on less food than at home. Countless times, his mouth had watered when thinking about the roast you’d shared before his deployment. He’s run on minimal sleep for several days in a row, barely more than half asleep when given a moment of tranquillity and nowhere near as relaxed as when having you in his arms. He’d looked over his shoulder for more than double the amount, only to be hit by a bullet in the end anyway, coming home broken.

John pulls away, cupping one of the hands that rests on his cheek, turning to kiss your palm. But, when he gazes at you again, your brows draw together.

”Don’t”.

"I didn’t say anythin'"

You only shake your head. "I know what you’re thinking, and no, you're not a burden".

"But I'm a broken man at the moment, love. Just see how much you've needed to do today", he scoffs, letting go of your hand, letting his fall onto his lap. You stop John from turning his head to the side, away from you, instead forcing him to watch you.

You look down at the man who meets your gaze with an almost sorrowful look. "And you think that bothers me?"

"Why wouldn’t it? It’s not your responsibility. Should just not have gone about gettin’ shot-".

"Jonathan Price". The use of his government name shuts his grumbling right up, his eyes even widening the slightest bit. "What bothers me isn’t that you got shot. I know the dangers of your work. What does bother me is seeing you in pain".

"I appreciate it, but there’s no need for you to do all this, to care for me". His voice is softer, but you still shake your head.

"Yes, there is because I love you". You barely notice the weight of what you say, those three chosen words leaving your lips in a too-natural fashion to be the first time. But rather than reluctance preceding and nerves following them, there's a sense of them being long overdue in the first place.

"I hate how much it hurts seeing your pain, so it’s not that I need to do anything for you. I very much care because I want to, John".

Compared to a few moments ago when John wanted to turn away from you, now he can't take his eyes off you. Whatever murky emotion which clouded his eyes has lifted, those blues clearer than ever as he stares right back at you, lips slightly parted.

"I’ve said it before, but you're too good for me".

"They say you get what you deserve". You offer John a smile, and something just crumbles then.

"God, you don’t know how much I love you, darlin’".

Your chest swells, heart suddenly pumping much warmer blood through your body. "So let me take care of you now when you need it".

"I- of course", he breathes, voice remarkably thin to support his gravelly cords as he shuts his eyes tightly. John gives you a single nod instead of attempting to continue his sentence, and you lean down to press a kiss against his forehead. 

His arm loops around your waist the best it can from his slumped forward angle, pulling you close so his head rests against your upper stomach. Despite his hair being wet, you card your fingers through it, kissing the top of his head, his warm exhalation warming your skin despite the thick sweater.

"Goin’ to be one hell of a Christmas". The first half of the sentence is mumbled into you, the second half clearer as John looks up at you again.

You hum, feeling how one of the strands at the back of his neck drips water onto your fingers. "I only see more of a reason to have a lazy day".

"Where you do everythin’".

"Hush, now you’ve allowed me to do the work for once". You twirl the hair at the nape of his neck, looking back into those blues.

"Still don’t want you workin’ yourself to death". He gives you an honest rather than pointed look.

"I should say that to you", you only muse lightly in return, not needing to avert your eyes to his bandages as they shine like a beacon in the corner of your vision. "And I reckon it’s going to be fine either way".

"M’sure”, his reply is hummed into the sparse space between your faces before your lips press against his in a fleeting kiss. Before you lean back and straighten, however, his hand cups the back of your neck. "Thank you for all of this, love".

"You know it’s nothing". Although John doesn’t answer as you step backwards, you don’t catch any guilt, no trace of the previous gloom in his gaze. He believes your words, the crows-feet at the edges of his eyes and smile-lines around his mouth further proof.

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 14

A/N: I told y'all this one would be coming quickly. I can't let my babies be unhappy for too long. ICYMI: this is the soulmate/time travel AU between Elvis and a fem!reader. We pick up in 2023/1973 in a rather tense moment.

Much love always to @ccab for loving me and loving what I write. You's mah best frend.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, angst, alcohol use, cussing, a car accident, injury, hospital, and then the good stuff, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, I think that's everything.

Word count: ~3.4K

You sit on the couch staring at each other waiting for his answer.

******

You sit in silence for a few minutes before you can't stand it anymore.

"Elvis? Did you move on?"

"I don't know."

You feel like someone stabbed you in the heart and you struggle to breathe.

"I need... something... I just... I'll be right back." You get up, grab your purse, and stumble to the door of the suite. The kids will be safe with him and your mom.

"Y/n, wait!" You hear him as you close the door quickly behind you. When you get to the lobby, there's nowhere for you to go. Instead, you head to the bar and order a glass of wine. You try to sip it slowly, but it doesn't last long, so you order another.

Back in the suite, your mom comes into the living room to find Elvis on the couch with his head in his hands.

"John?" She says it gently, trying not to startle him. He sniffs and wipes his eyes and looks up at her.

"Oh, Cynthia, I'm sorry. Did we bother you?"

"Not at all. She left, didn't she?" He nods. She sits next to him on the couch. "Do you know where she went?"

"I have an idea."

"Then why are you still sitting here?" He looks over at her suddenly.

"I really don't know." He stands up and heads towards the door. He turns back when he reaches it. "You'll-"

"I got the kids. Go."

"Thank you." He walks out the door and makes his way to the lobby.

He was right about where you would be. You're still at the bar nursing your third glass of wine. He walks up next to you and pulls out the chair.

"Anybody sitting here?" You smile a little before responding.

"No, but my husband is the jealous type." Then you look down at your drink. "Or, at least, he used to be."

"He still is." He sits next to you at the bar and you scoff. "Hey. Don't be like that."

"Like what? Like my husband doesn't love me anymore?" You drain your glass and gesture to the bartender that you want another. He can't help but be reminded of the party you went to together in 2010 and it breaks his heart.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't not say that." He sighs deeply.

"Honey, can we just try to be happy? For the kids?" The bartender brings you your glass of wine and you turn and look at him.

"Why don't we just make a portal and send you home to Linda?"

"How do you...? Right. No, I want to spend more time with the kids."

"That's fair. I'll be nice. Then we'll get you back to your girlfriend."

"Y/n..."

"No, you know what. Don't." You take your ring off of your finger and set it on the bar in front of him. "Here. Give her that."

You drain your glass and stand up, but you've just pounded a whole bottle of wine in less than an hour, so you stumble a little and he catches you. He grabs your ring off the bar and then steadies you as you try to walk. You pull away from him and try to stand on your own.

"I'm fine. I don't need you to save me. I do things by myself all the time. Who needs a husband?"

"Y/n, you're drunk. Please let me help you." Without warning, you start to cry. He lifts you into his arms like a baby and flashes back to all the other times he's carried you like this before: when you were sad and drunk in college, when you and he finally made it home in the snowstorm, and when he carried you across the threshold of your Vegas honeymoon suite. How did you get here from there?

You cry against his chest as he takes you back up to the room. Inside the suite, your mom has gone to bed. He takes you to the room you're intended to share and settles you in the bed, removing your shoes gently. When he goes to leave and sleep on the couch, you grab his hand.

"Stay with me. Please." He's not sure if you mean tonight or forever.

"Oh, honey, I-"

"Please."

"Okay." He takes his shoes off and lays down on the other side of you. His heart feels like it's in a vice and it takes him a long time to go to sleep, even with you snoring quietly beside him.

******

The next morning, you wake up tucked up under his chin with his arm around you, just like the first night you stayed together. But this time, when you wake up, you pull away and get out of the bed. You hear the kids in the living area with your mom, so you make your way in there to them. Your mom brings you a glass of water and you sit down on the couch. John Jessie immediately asks about his dad, so you send both kids in there to wake him up. The laughter that spills from the room when they do makes you want to cry all over again.

"I'm taking the kids today." You turn to your mom.

"What? No. He's here to see them. We should let them be together."

"There's plenty of time for that tomorrow. You two need a day."

"No, mom, we really don't."

"Yes. I'd give anything for another day with your dad. I'm not letting you throw this away. Not without trying. I'm taking the kids."

And she does. She takes them to the beach and promises to be gone until dinner time. You and Elvis just stare at each other in silence.

"Do you need fried potatoes?" He knows you and how you deal with a hangover.

"Yeah, I really do."

"Come on." You head downstairs together to your rental car in silence. He agrees to drive, as always, and you head to a breakfast place you've found on your phone. As you ride, he pulls your ring out of his pocket.

"Put this back on your finger." You hear the edge to his voice and it irritates you. What does he have to be angry about?

"And if I say no?"

"Y/n, I'm not asking."

"Why the fuck would I put that back on?"

"Because you're my goddamn wife!"

"Am I?! Because you don't seem to want me to be!" He turns and looks at you and you can feel the rage rolling off of him.

"PUT THE FUCKING RING ON YOUR FINGER."

"FUCK YOU ELVIS."

"FUCK ME? FUCK ME?! I-"

He doesn't get anything else out though because he's taken his eyes off the road and completely misses the red light. The other car collides with yours on your side and you skid across the intersection as the sickening crunch of metal on metal rings through you both. Time seems to slow down as you're thrown around inside the vehicle. Everything goes black.

******

When Elvis comes to, someone else has called 911 and the emergency personnel move around quickly, hollering to each other as they work.

"Sir? He's regained consciousness." He's strapped to a gurney and they're loading him into an ambulance. When he realizes what's happened, he immediately tries to sit up.

"My wife-"

"They're extracting her from the car. They'll meet us at the hospital." He tries to get off the gurney.

"No. I'm not leaving her. Extract her? Is she okay?"

"Sir, calm down-"

"Calm down?! WHERE IS MY WIFE?!" They close the doors to the ambulance and give him an injection of something to calm him down. He drifts off into a kind of twilight sleep again.

The next time he wakes up, he's in the hospital. He sits up suddenly and goes to get out of the bed. The nurses rush in to settle him, but he won't be settled. He yells at anyone who will listen that he needs to find you.

Finally, the doctor comes in as he's trying to rip his IV out.

"Mr. Burrows, you have to stop. We will take you to your wife, but you need to calm down first." He sits down on the edge of the bed breathing heavily.

"Where is she?"

"She's been admitted."

"Admitted? No. That means-"

"They're running some tests right now, but she still hasn't woken up."

"No. No no no." He collapses on his knees beside the bed and weeps. The doctor is deeply affected, but helps him back onto the bed. He has the nurses remove Elvis's IV and monitors and helps him get dressed.

"Let's go see her." Elvis nods weakly and the doctor leads him to your room.

When he sees you in the bed, he falls to his knees again and rocks back and forth crying. The doctor helps him into the chair next to your bed. Elvis holds your hand and presses it to his lips.

"God, honey, I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. Please wake up." You don't, not yet, but he wills you to open your eyes.

The doctor has seen a lot of trauma and a lot of broken husbands. But something about the way Elvis weeps hits him differently. He leaves you alone together.

"Please, honey." Elvis kisses your hand over and over, begging you to wake up. "I can't do this without you. God, I love you so much. Please don't leave me."

You lay in the bed not moving with the monitors beeping quietly. And he sits beside you, praying desperately to God that you wake up soon.

******

Elvis calls your mom to check on the kids and let her know what's happened. She's dying to come to you, but she knows someone has to watch the kids and he's in no position to do it. Besides, there's no way he'd ever leave you.

The doctor eventually comes back with the results of your tests. You have a very small brain bleed that they're hoping will resolve itself soon. They're not exactly sure why you haven't woken up yet. Elvis assumes it's his fault and spends the hours while you sleep beating himself up for hurting you, both physically and emotionally. There's not a single doubt in his mind anymore that he loves you and wants to be married to you. Almost losing you is killing him and he wants nothing more than to take you in his arms and love you the way he always has. He stays by your side through the rest of the day, not even leaving to eat, and settles in for a night watch.

Finally, around 3:30am, you stir a little. He sits up and watches you carefully. Your eyes flutter open and he's overwhelmed with emotion.

"Elvis?" You whisper quietly.

"Oh God, y/n, I-"

"Shhh... it's okay."

"No it's not, honey. It's not okay at all. I'm so sorry. For everything."

"This wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was, but I mean even more than that." He kisses the back of your hand again. "I love you so much, baby. I love you with all of me and I can't believe I ever thought I could be without you."

He moves a piece of your hair off of your face and runs his fingertips down the side of your cheek.

"You still love me?" You ask quietly, voice quavering.

"God, honey, yes. You are the love of my life." You smile, your eyes watery, and nod gently. He climbs into the bed next to you and holds you close to him.

"I'm yours, y/n. Forever."

******

They release you from the hospital a couple of days later with instructions to rest for three weeks before you fly home. You obviously can't afford to stay in the hotel for three weeks, so you find some small bungalows on the beach and rent one for you and Elvis and one for your mom and the kids. The doctor said you need to rest, so he recommends the kids stay with your mom, especially in the beginning.

Elvis is the perfect caretaker. He keeps you fed and hydrated and entertained and makes you sleep and rest to heal.

At the end of the first week, you find yourselves on the couch together. He's watching a movie on tv and you're scrolling on your phone. You roll over a sexy edit of Elvis on Instagram and accidentally turn the sound on. The song is dirty and it gets his attention before you can mute it.

"Honey, what are you watching?"

"Nothing!" You answer quickly, really hoping he doesn't press the issue. But he can tell you're hiding something and the curiosity gets the better of him.

"What is it? Just show me." You get a strange look on your face and now he's determined to see what you were looking at.

"No!" You giggle and he crawls toward you on the couch. "No! No!"

You try to push him away with your feet and he moves them out of the way to crawl between them and up your body to reach for your phone. He's on top of you now, trying to grab your phone. You move it around over your head and try to use your other hand to keep him from getting it. In the process of moving your phone out of his reach, you turn the sound up and accidentally click on the edit again. The song plays and when you bring your phone back down to turn it off, he snatches it and looks at the screen, still in his position between your legs.

It's a sexy edit of him shirtless and wet in the movie Fun in Acapulco. You bury your face in your hands and blush a deep red. He watches it and then looks at you surprised. Then, he busts out laughing and looks back at the phone.

"Is this what you're into, honey? I guess I should be glad it's me."

"Oh my goddddddd." You want to melt into the couch.

"Mike Windgren, though? That movie is terrible. Honey, what is this?"

"It's a TikTok." You answer from behind your hands.

"Are they all videos of Mike?" You pop your face up and laugh.

"Oh, no! They have them for all of your movie characters. And just for, like, you..."

"I wanna see."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do! Show me!" You reluctantly open TikTok and go to your saved videos. You hand him your phone and cover your face again. He scrolls through them and laughs. A few of them make him blush, though. He stumbles upon one of him from the Aloha concert and is amazed. You realize what's happening and try to wrestle the phone back away from him. He holds you at arms length and laughs while you play fight your way up him. Eventually, he stands up and holds the phone behind his back. You stand up and face him.

"Honey, you know, you don't have to watch those. I'm right here. You could just turn on some sexy music and look at me."

"Oh, shut up!" You say, blushing. But then you look up at him. And he looks down at you, energy gathering in the space between your bodies. He puts his hand on the side of your face and runs his thumb over your lips. You can tell he wants to kiss you, but it's been so long that he's not sure if he can. Slowly, he leans in and presses his lips to yours. He might look older than the first time, but his kiss is the same and you melt into him like butter.

You walk backwards to your bedroom, shedding clothing as you go, mouths still smashed together. When you get to the bed, you're both naked, but before he lays you down, he steps back and looks at you. He reaches a hand out to caress your breast and run his thumb over your nipple.

"God, y/n, you're such a beautiful woman."

"I figured I was getting too old for you."

"Never."

"I wasn't even sure you wanted me anymore. Not like this."

"Honey, I will always want you." With that, he lays you down on the bed gently and begins to explore your body with his mouth. You've done it so many times, but something about this feels new and sacred. He kisses every part of you and the sensation of his hot mouth on your skin makes you drip with need.

He finally makes his way to your center and presses a kiss to you between your legs. Then, he begins to move his tongue on you just how he knows you like it. He could be with a thousand women and still remember your body and the way you taste and feel. This is everything you've both been missing and he licks you like his life depends on it. The overwhelming sensation of pleasure courses through you as he moves his tongue over and around your sensitive bud. He slides a finger into you and feels how your body reacts. Suddenly, everything else melts away and there's only you and him and the love he's making to you. You feel the coil of your orgasm tightening and know you won't last much longer. He can tell you're close too and he ramps up the movements of his tongue. Finally, the dam breaks and your release rushes through you in wave after wave of ecstasy. He tongues you through the high and when you come back down he pulls away sighing.

"I love the way you feel when you come, baby."

"Mmmm... now it's your turn." You respond breathlessly. He climbs up your body and lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you with his tip.

"I've waited so long to make love to you, y/n." He pushes into you slowly, letting you feel every inch of his cock. A soft moan escapes your lips and he groans. "The sounds you make... mmmm baby, you make me crazy."

He starts to slide in and out of you in a gentle rhythm, hitting all the best places inside you, kissing your neck sensually. He moves gracefully on top of you and you want to cry it feels so good.

"I've missed you so much, baby." He sets his head on your shoulder as he fucks you in the gentlest way you've experienced since the night he proposed. This feels like a kind of renewal of your vows and he moans into your mouth as he kisses you deeply.

He starts to thrust a little faster, but never changes the gentle pattern of sliding in and out of you. Your walls begin to flutter around him and he groans, knowing that the end is coming for both of you. He fills you fully with each movement as his speed increases.

"Fuck, Elvis, it's so good."

"It is, baby, it really is." He rolls you over on your side and positions your leg over his hip. The gentle thrusting doesn't change, but the intimacy seems to increase as he looks into your eyes and peppers you with kisses. His cock slides in and out rhythmically and he grunts with the nearness of his climax. He whispers between kisses as he pushes in and out.

"I love you, y/n. This is a new beginning for us. And I'm making a promise to you. I will never question us ever again. You are the one who my soul loves. We are everything."

He thrusts gently a few more times as he holds your hip and moves ever closer to his release. The tears that slide down your cheeks are happy ones and you press your forehead to his and he whispers again.

"I belong to you and you alone, y/n." He kisses you passionately and pushes into you one more time.

"God, yes, Elvis!" You cry out as you tumble together into the sea of your orgasm, the waves crashing over you in a tender expression of your love. He holds you there shuddering and pumping weakly until he comes back down to earth. You lay there looking at each other, basking in the rediscovery of your love.

"I will love you until the end of time. And if you're ever gone again, I will wait for you." You put your hand on his cheek and kiss the end of his nose, unable to speak, but the vulnerable gesture says everything you'd say with words.

You lay there together for a long time, just taking each other in and reveling in the shared pleasure of the experience.

A portal appears and you don't even acknowledge it. You're both too wrapped in the web of each other to notice anything beyond the boundaries of your intertwined bodies.

******

Until next time...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @rosepresley68 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley @rjmartin11 @noirrose21-blog @tacozebra051 @deltafalax

[highlifeboat]

It was rather late in the night when Alcina got back from her meeting with Mother Miranda. It had run much longer than intended, though she supposed that was partially her own fault for engaging in petty arguments with her idiot little brother. Heisenberg had been getting on her nerves seemingly more than usual as of late. It didn’t help when Angie jumped in with her high pitched laughter, chanting for them to fight as if they were school children. That hardly mattered now, though. She was home, and ready to crawl into bed to sleep the rest of the night away with her darling wife in her arms.

But first, she had to check on her girls.

The first room she passed down the line was Daniela. Her youngest daughter was fast asleep, feet where her head should have been and muttering incoherent things under her breath. Alcina chuckled softly to herself quietly walking into the room and fixing the redhead’s position. Daniela stirred a bit at being moved, but didn’t wake as Alcina placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Her youngest snuggled into the warmth of her bedsheet as she exited the room, and went to see Cassandra.

The brunette was out like a light as well, fingers twitching slightly as she dreamed. A small growl escaped her, and Alcina could see her ears twitching under the mess of hair. Cassandra was feisty, even in her sleep, and it was absolutely adorable to see. Sneaking over just as softly as she had with Daniela, she planted a kiss on her middle child’s forehead, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Cassandra let out something akin to a satisfied sigh, and seemed to settle. She muttered a quiet “I love you.” to the brunette, who mumbled into her pillow, and off Alcina went to check on her eldest.

Surprisingly, she didn’t find Bela in her own bedroom, instead she found the blonde asleep on the chair in Rosemary’s room, legs swung over the arm and a “Brothers’ Grimm” fairytale book laying open on her stomach, Rose fast asleep in her crib. Alcina could only assume Bela had been reading to the infant, and smiled fondly at the thought. She was still surprised Bela had taken a liking to her step-sister, she’d half expected her eldest to be more upset over getting a new sibling. She gingerly took the book and placed it back onto the bookshelf, then quickly checked over Rose when she heard a small groan from the blonde.

“Mama...?” Bela yawned, opening her eyes a little.

Alcina smiled. “Yes, little fly. It’s me.” She hummed, watching the girl stretch.

“What time is it…?”

“Late.” She answered as she lifted Bela out of the chair. “You should be in bed.”

“Oh, ‘m sorry….” Her eldest yawned again. “Rosey wanned a story….” She explained, closing her eyes again. “Rapunzel…. She likes that one….”

Alcina chuckled, carrying the girl across the hall to her own bedroom. “I’m sure she does.” She set her daughter in bed, brushing the hair away from her face. “And I’m sure she loves when you read it to her.” The blonde gave a quiet hum in response, fully settling after Alcina kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Bela. I love you.”

“Mm love you, Mama…” Bela muttered. “Goonigh’....”

Alcina let out a faint sigh as she shut the door to her eldest’s bedroom. Now that she was sure they were all sound asleep, she could finally get to her own bed and rest.

She quietly opened the door to the bedroom, taking off her hat and setting it on top of a nearby hook, only to pause at the position she found her wife in.

Mia was on top of the covers, dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of black and white boxers, curled up and cuddling into one of the oversized pillows. Alcina could hear her soft chuffing, her face half buried into the soft cushion and arms wrapped tightly around it. The bigger woman smiled at the scene, taking a moment to admire just how cute her little darling was before she went to remove the makeup from her face and slip into her nightgown.

She was humming softly to herself when she returned, taking another second to look at her wife as she removed her earrings. Mia had shifted slightly, having moved one of her legs onto the pillow, and Alcina let out a quietly huffed laugh. Sometimes she truly felt blessed to have such a person in her life. Mia brought on a certain kind of chaos Alcina couldn’t explain, and she loved it. Even when the woman was sound asleep she managed to make her smile. She almost hated to ruin the sight before her. But she was still tired.

Plus, she would need that pillow.

Alcina didn’t really want to wake her wife, instead she tried to simply untangle Mia from her pillow. “Alci….” The small brunette muttered. “Don’ go….”

“Oh…” The taller woman smiled. “I’m not going anywhere, darling….” She cooed softly, getting a small whine as she freed the pillow from her wife’s sleepy grasp.

“Nooooo….”

Alcina rolled her eyes, pulling the covers back before getting into bed. She pulled Mia in beside her, watching the smaller woman readjust herself until she was comfortably tucked under Alcina’s arm. Her eyes never opened, she simply buried her face into the bigger woman’s shoulder like she had done with the pillow, letting out a long sigh against her skin. Alcina kissed the crown of her head as she herself settled, one hand coming up to tangle itself in Mia’s hair.

“Goodnight, my love.” She whispered, getting a quiet mutter of words in reply as she closed her eyes.

She couldn’t imagine sleeping alone anymore.

[amazingmaeve]

I’m so sorry - Hermione granger

Harry Potter Masterlist

Summary: Y/N Malfoy twin sister to Draco Malfoy and daughter of Narcissa Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy. Y/N and Hermione are in love but she had to break up with Hermione to protect her from Voldemort. Now she finally stands up while she’s being torture by her aunt.

Pairing: Hermione Granger x FemaleMalfoy!reader

Warnings: Torture, Angst, Spoiler

AN: I just had this idea and wanted to writes before I forgot it.

Word Count: 1588

Y/N Malfoy was thought to be as cruel as her family. That's what everyone thinks and thought. She didn't really bully anyone but had something against mudbloods since her parents said they were bad.

When Y/N met Hermione Granger she was quite rude. Y/N was taught to not be nice to Mudbloods and she knew Hermione Granger was one.

One night on the Astronomy tower Y/N ran into Hermione Granger. It was their fifth year and Y/N was sad she's always been sad.

Her parents mostly Lucius had always chastise her for being to soft. That she should be more like Draco. That made her angry and sad.

Y/N was sad because no matter what she did it would never please her parents.

Y/N was also angry at herself for not being more like Draco. Less emotional. Even though she was a Slytherin Y/N had cared more. She always felt bad when she said mean things. Or when Draco did it. Y/N just wished she could be more strong.

"Oh it's you," Y/N snapped out of her face to see Hermione standing there. Y/N was quick to wipe the tears away. "Wait are you crying," Hermione questions Y/N could almost sense some concern.

"Go head make fun of me Granger," Y/N sniffles drying her eyes making them more red.

"Unlike I don't make fun of people," Hermione states going sit next to Y/N. "Are you okay," She asks putting her books down.

"Obviously not," Y/N not putting her head in her hands trying to make her head ache go away.

"Sorry stupid question," Hermione cringes. "So you want to talk about it I'm a good listener," She gives her a half of a smile.

Y/N sighs she's never really had anyone to talk to so it's weird to her.

"Well first my parents think I'm to emotional and should be like my twin. And second of all I think I should be less emotional," Y/N lets out a few tears. "See I'm too emotional," She lets out a chuckle.

"It's okay to be emotional," Hermione corrects her starting to feel bad for her. Y/N had barely talked to Hermione only when she had introduced herself.

Y/N had wanted to apologize but didn't want her parents to hate her even more.

“Why are you being so nice to me I've been nothing but rude to you," Y/N questions feeling her heart race and butterflies in her stomach.

"I believe you are a good person just brought up with a bad influence," Hermione smiles at her and puts her hand on hers Y/N smiles back.

From that day on Y/N and Hermione always met at the astronomy tower. She always set her smiles when no one was looking.

Y/N could feel herself falling for the smart and beautiful girl.

Then one night as they were talking and laughing about her days, then Hermione kissed her on the lips.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean-," Hermione was about to apologize when Y/N had brought her hand to Hermiones cheek and kissed her again.

She moved her lips along with hers. When they broke away Y/N let out a nervous chuckle putting her hand on her.

From then on Y/N and Hermione would sneak around with giggles and kisses.

Whenever Y/N needed a shoulder to cry on Hermione would always be there for her reassuring that it was ok to be different.

And when Hermione needed to talk about fights with Ron and Harry Y/N would be there for each other.

It's been about a year that this has been going and they're almost done with their sixth year. Y/N had just found out that Professor Snape had killed professed Dumbledore.

Y/N then figured out her brother had the mark. And that's when it clicked why he had been distant. Y/N and Draco were somewhat close but they drifted when she got with Hermione.

Y/N was scared that her brother found out and told her mom. But it wouldn't be as bad as if her dad had known. But Hermione reassured her that nothing was wrong and oh how wrong Hermione was.

And know she had to break up with Hermione because her mother found out through Draco. Y/N was so scared that they would hurt Hermione she had to break up with her.

"Y/N what's wrong I was worried about when I couldn't find you," Hermione rushes over to Y/N worried that she had gotten hurt.

"I'm sorry," Y/N sobs.

"Why what's wrong love," Hermione asks brushing the tears away with her thumbs as her hands wrapped around her cheeks.

"We can't be together anymore," Y/N whispers.

"What why," Hermione asks confusion spreads on her cheek.

"My family found out," Y/N's lips tremble as tears cascade down her cheeks feeling heartbreak.

"Oh," Hermione lets out a breath.

"It's better you don't be with me I don't want you to get hurt," Y/N's body's tremble as she sobs. "I'm sorry please don't hate me," Y/N whimpers.

"Shh love I don't hate you," Hermione shushes her. "We will meet again and I know we'll end up together," Hermione lets some tears fall. She leans forward and kisses her one last time before leaving.

Y/N sadly smiles at Hermione leaves as tears keep on falling and falling.

And finally here we are at the Malfoy Manor with Draco and Y/N by their parents sides.

Her eyes widen as the Golden Trio was dragged into the room. Y/N felt her heart stop and her body coming to a halt.

"Oh my god," Y/N whispers.

She blocks out everything even when her aunt goes on a rant about a sword one of the guys have.

Of course her aunt almost murders the guys wanting to get the sword.

Draco drags Y/N out as her aunt mutters something about girl talk with Hermione and dragged the two boys down to the dungeon.

Hermiones scream snap her out of her daze. She felt her stomach twirl with anxiety and anger. The anger driven towards her aunt.

When Draco is looking away Y/N runs away to go to the room where her aunt is torturing Hermione.

"Stop," Y/N screams as she grabs her wand and points it at Bellatrix. Her eyes were burning with rage.

Bellatrix's eyes snap up to her nieces.

"And what are you going to do about my dearest niece," Bellatrix smirks knowing that Y/N was to weak to do anything.

"Stupefy," Y/N shout pointed her wand at Bellatrix who goes flying

As she gets flown across the room she runs across the room to Hermione where tears are rolling down her cheeks.

She helps Hermione stand up and pulls her behind so that her crazy aunt doesn't do anything.

"Don't even think about doing anything," Y/N snaps at her aunt who got up pretty fast who puts up her wand with a smirk on her face.

"Or what," Bellatrix cackles.

As she was about to speak her parents enter the room with Draco by her side.

"Y/N don't do anything stupid," Lucius snaps at his daughter who has had enough of her family.

"No I've had enough of this, from you, my family who's supposed to support me," Y/N snaps as tears roll down her cheek.

"Y/N sweetheart calm down," Narcissa softly told her daughter not wanting thing to go out of hand.

Y/N scoffs a little but was interrupted again when Harry and Ron entered the room and started casting spells to get Hermione out.

But what she didn't feel her aunt grab Hermione from behind her.

"STOP,"Bellatrix yells Y/N turns around to see her want and against Hermiones chin. Tears come down Hermione's cheeks.

Bellatrix goes on a rant and as Y/N pulls out her want the chandelier cascades down on Bellatrix.

Y/N runs to Hermione to make sure she’s.

“Minoe you ok,” Y/N softly asks as she grabs her hands.

As Hermione was about to speak but was interrupted by Ron.

“Hermione come let’s go,” Ron rushes.

“I’m not leaving without her,” Hermione says grabbing her hand pulling her along.

She sees the disappointed look on her families face as they all stand together and Y/N hands intertwines with Hermiones’. Hermione squeezes Y/N hand reassuring her.

Dobby the house elf that used to work for her family makes a huge speak which she smiles at. Y/N was one of the only Malfoy’s that cared about him.

They finally do the Apparition to make them leave the manor but not before Bellatrix throws a knife going with them.

They reappear somewhere else as Hermione clings on to Y/N.

“Thanks god you’re ok,” Y/N whispers as she kissed Hermione. She kisses back wrapping her arm around Y/N’s waist.

After they break apart she notices that Dobby has a knife in his stomach.

“No,” Y/N whispers as Dobby stumbles into Harry’s arm. Harry wants to do something Y/N sees but knows there’s nothing that can happen.

Y/N lets more tears fall as Dobby takes his last breath. Hermione hugs her as she cries on her shoulder.

She got out of her families house but ended in a tragedy.

[serowotonin]

˗ˏˋ 𝗴𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 ˎˊ˗

✰ PAIRING ( terushima yuuji x fem!reader ) ✰ WORDCOUNT ( 1.9k ) ✰ GENRE ( ansgt, songfic ) ✰ WARNINGS ( um one swear word, angst, implications of de*th )

all the memories that we make will never change we'll stay drunk, we'll stay tan, let the love remain and I swear that I'll always paint you golden days ♫ panic! at the disco

✰✰ NOTE.. so uH i think this is the first angst thing i wrote that im actually happy with and i know terushima isn’t someone a lot of ppl write for so to the few ppl who see this</3 hope u guys enjoy:”)

“Ughh where is it,” Terushima grumbled to himself as he pulled open drawer after drawer. He had searched all the cabinets, all the tables, and just about every inch of his apartment but has yet to find his phone charger. 

As he closed the second to last drawer on this shelf, which held no phone charger, he pulled out his phone and saw it had 1% battery remaining. Quickly, he unlocked it and went to his contacts. Before he could make a call though, the screen turned black and he was left staring at a faint reflection of himself.

“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath. “She’s gonna get upset again.”

He clutched the now dead phone in one hand and ran the other through his hair, sighing in exhaustion. Today had been tiring enough with work and now he had this to deal with.

There was still one more drawer he hadn’t checked though. So, he lifted his hand out of his hair and pulled it wide open. 

In it sat a small box. 

He knew of its contents the moment he laid eyes on it. He also knew opening it now would only make him feel worse, not to mention, it would definitely delay his plans.

But for some reason, a longing for nostalgia or maybe the person that brought such nostalgia, his arms unconsciously moved to take the box into his hands.

Your words echoed in the back of his mind as he traced his fingers along the edges of the box.

“It’ll be like our little time capsule. For us to open when we’re all old and wrinkly…”

A deep sigh escaped his lips. 

Every rational thought that came into his head begged him not to open it, to put it back, to forget he even found it. 

Instead, his fingers moved to lift the cover and lay it down on the floor beside him.

And there you were... a polaroid of you at least. 

Your lips were curved in a sweet smile inviting him in and breaking his heart all over again. Up until now, he could barely recall what your face looked like when you were happy, truly happy. He could only remember the tears and regret you had on your face towards the end… 

But seeing you like this again, the wideness of your smile, the crinkle of your eyes… you radiated a joy and happiness he had begun to forget in you.

He stared at the picture for a good minute before turning it around to see the familiar strokes of your handwriting.

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!’ and under it ‘(first pic taken with the polaroid my baby Yuuji got for me<3)’

“My baby Yuuji,” he whispered.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you,” he sang softly into your ear as he held you from behind, swaying gently in tune. 

“Happy birthday dear Y/n.. Happy birthday to you~”

You turned to kiss the blond and he pulled you even closer to him. 

“I love you babe, happy birthday...” 

The tiredness he had felt just moments ago seemed to have fluttered away when he found you again in the polaroids, and a longing burst from the depths as he put the picture down and picked up another one, his hands once again moving on their own will.

This one had the two of you standing together, backs facing the camera. It was taken at a beach when the sun was still high in the sky and the water glistened blue. But it wasn’t the scenery that appealed to him, nor was it the way the sun wrapped around you two in perfect golden light. 

It was how close you were to him. The physical distance between you two was barely existent. Your arms were wrapped around his waist and his were draped over your shoulders. 

‘Sea breeze, cute outfit, sand between my toes, and 1 Terushima Yuuji… Damn was today great.’

How he would give to be that close to you again.

“Ok 3, 2, 1…”

You clung on to him as tight as you could and he smiled, pulling you closer. 

At the sound of the camera click and the hum of the photo being printed, you let go and quickly turned around to thank the woman for taking the picture.

When you did that he felt off; as if a part of his body was just yanked away. It wasn’t an extreme feeling, nor was it painful in any way. It was more just a lingering emptiness that was put to rest a few seconds later when you were back by his side again.

He put his arm back on your shoulder and peered down at the polaroid in your hand. You were staring at the photo patiently waiting for the colors to fade in. And when it finally did, you smiled satisfactorily at it before tucking it away and flashing another smile to the man right next to you.

Terushima closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to clear his mind. It’s been years, he shouldn’t be dwelling on the past like this.

And yet, there was comfort in the pain the memories brought.

When he opened his eyes, they landed on yet another photo of you. And as he has been for a good part of his life, he was drawn to you. Reaching out a hand, he picked it up and let the memories wash over him once more.

After a while, he set it down and picked up another. And another. And another. Each capturing a moment with you he would never get back. 

It’s been years since he’s had to learn to live without you. Truthfully though, he never did learn how. The sun became a little dimmer, the rain a little harder, the breeze a little less refreshing. The world lost its vibrancy when he lost you. He adapted, got used to the dullness, but he couldn’t learn to live the same anymore...

He picked up another polaroid.

This one didn’t have either of your faces on it. It just showed the two of you holding hands against a dark background.

The bottom held no words but instead an arrow pointing to the right. Terushima turned the polaroid and saw a small envelope attached to the back. Curious, he opened it up and pulled out the piece of paper snuggled inside.

‘This one’s a bit longer than any other note I’ve written for a polaroid but… I kinda just realized smth really important. He drove me out at 3AM in the morning to get food because I said I was hungry. Then we sat in his car listening to some old mixtapes he had. They were pretty crappy but it didn’t matter. I love Terushima Yuuji. I’ve said it a million times before but last night it really hit me, hard. I love him in a way I’d never be able to love anyone else. 

I want to go on more dates with him. more stupid dates, more romantic ones, more 3AM dates, more cuddle dates. And even though it might be selfish of me, I want to spend my every breathing minute with him. 

If I can’t have anything else in this then I just want these golden days of ours to last forever..’

And before he realized it, tears were rolling down his cheeks. Fuck it all. He missed you. He missed the days you had together, the nights spent in each others’ arms. He missed you so much it tore a hole in his heart and all he could see when he looked at the sunlight drifting through the window was just darkness. 

It pained him to know that everything you wanted was all he ever needed. It pained him that he hadn’t realized this until it was too late. And it pained him most that you were never coming back.

Why’d you have to leave? 

He tried so hard to stop asking this question, and for a while, he was successful. But the polaroids, your handwriting, the memories, you.. there was just so much pain in the happiness of the past. 

But you were gone. He had accepted that long ago. 

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Terushima, you in here?” a familiar voice called from outside. 

Right, he forgot about Misaki. Wiping any tears left on his face, he put all the polaroids back in the box, covered the lid, and left the room.

“DADDY!!” a little girl yelled, running at him full speed. He bent down and lifted her into his arms effortlessly.

“Oh you’ve gotten heavier. How much has Misaki been feeding you huh?” he teased.

The little girl pouted as she pointed to the floor signaling she wanted to be put down. Terushima chuckled and did so.

Walking over to a slightly annoyed-looking Misaki, he muttered an apology for not going to pick her up and a thanks for taking care of his daughter. 

“Hey wait, you look like you’ve been crying… Are you ok Teru?” she asked, eyes showing her concern.

He let out a deep sigh. 

“I uh- I found a box with some old pictures of Y/n and I just-”

She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. 

“Look, I know you miss her and I know you know this, but don’t get too stuck in the past. Focus on what you have now,” she said looking in the direction of the young girl who had made her way over to the small pile of stuffed animals on the couch.

He rubbed his face and nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, thank you Misaki.”

“Ok,” she replied with a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be going then.” 

Terushima nodded again and after she said bye to his daughter, he walked her to the door.

Turning back he leaned on the wall and looked affectionately at the girl playing on his couch. She was still so young, but it’s been almost 5 years now that he’s taken care of her. 

Time seemed to fly by with her and yet it felt like so long ago he welcomed her to the world. 

He understood now the past and its memories were something to be treasured. It was not something to cling on tightly though. The golden days of the past are gone, but the glittering rays that coated the floor and walls of his living room tell him it’s a new age. 

It was an age he had to cherish well.

Deciding to do something he’s been putting off, he walked back into his room and brought out the box with all its polaroids and memories.

“Yui, come here. I want to show you something.”

She stared at him before taking one frayed teddy bear into her hands and walking over to her father. Taking his outreached hand, she looked at the box he held in his other.

Sitting at the top of the pile was a photo of a beautiful woman. The sun was shining bright in the background and the light swirled around her as if she was wrapped in a golden halo.

“Is she an angel?” Yui asked innocently, pointing to the picture.

“You got that right,” he replied with a sad smile. “She’s the most beautiful angel out there..”

He watched as the young girl picked up the photo, seemingly mesmerized.

“That angel is your mom.”

“My mom?” she echoed. “Mommy is an angel?”

He smiled and ruffled her hair, “She sure is, and you know what? She’s looking out for us from heaven, so you better be a good girl for her, okay?”

✰✰ NOTE.. pls lemme know if u guys thought this was angsty enough sdkjlsdg,,,, i dunno i can’t seem to tell whether angst is painful enough yet;-; also don’t mind the name yui dkglsd it was the first one i could think of T-T

✰✰✰ TAGLIST.. @lilikags @luna-in-luv​ @kureyama​

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

Forever & Always: Stage 1 - Denial | Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Witch!Reader; Platonic Avengers x Reader

Words: A little less than 2.2k words

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Grief (Loss of Parent), Depression, Anxiety, Angst, & Fluff (more to be added) If you see something that I missed don't be afraid to tell me.

Synopsis: Y/N “Birdy” (nicknamed by her family), comes from a long line of witches and warlocks, living her days at the New Avengers Compound, alongside her friends. The Avengers are part of her family and her family is always welcome to the compound. Things for once seemed to be going well now that all was right from the attack on Thanos, everyone was alive, all was forgiven, friendships were thriving, that all ended when Birdy’s brother came calling with sad news, their mother had suddenly passed. These are the stages of grief Birdy faces, through the loss of her best friend, her protector, her mother.

Info: The Sebastian edit in the moodboard is done by @nix-akimbo and the dividers are done by @firefly-graphics. A big thank you too @sllooney for beta editing this, all mistakes are mine. I've had this finished for over a week I just hadn't had the heart to post, but I had my laptop out so here it is! I do not give permission for this to be translated or to be posted on other sites without my written permission.

Forever & Always Masterlist | My Masterlist

Baby wails rang through the kitchen as Birdy sat on the floor with her back against the cabinet. She felt exhausted as she tried to calm her speeding heart, her husband was gone on a mission, and she has been left to take care of the 6 month old twins on her own.

Lyra and Grant had been crying since they had woken up this morning at the crack of dawn and it was now noon. Birdy had tried feeding them, rocking them, tummy time, nothing was working. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Getting up from the floor after making sure the twins were still safe in their playpen in the corner, they both just looked at her red faced, breaking her heart. Birdy made her way to the chalkboard picking up a piece of chalk, writing; Mama HELP! I need you please, I’m having a crisis and I don’t know what to do.

Dramatic? Yes. Effective? Apparently so, because the words 'on my way' appeared immediately under her message. Letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, Birdy grabbed the pitcher of Orange Blood tea out of the fridge and the shortbread cookies from the jar where she had been hiding them from her husband.

The back door to the kitchen opened and the older Lyra walked in, met by the sounds of her grandbabies wailing their little hearts out. Birdy’s mother looked at her with a soft smile, taking in her daughter's exhausted frame. Her hair was pulled off her face in a ponytail, oversized yoga pants hung loosely on her hips, with a tank and cardigan to match. Birdy looked just about done, but still so beautiful in her mother’s eyes.

“My little Birdy, sit down, I got this.” The mother moved behind her daughter and gently steered her to the breakfast nook, while she went in the direction of the playpen.

“Oh my little cherubs, what seems to be the matter?” Speaking to the babies in a soft voice, the grandmother grabbed Grant and brought him over to his mother, who quickly cradled the bundle of joy in her arms, while she returned for her namesake, cradling her closely, shushing her softly. It didn’t do much but as Lyra sat at the breakfast nook across from her daughter she began to rock the baby in her arms, Birdy copying her mother’s actions, brushing her finger down Grant’s sweet button nose.

“Let’s see… your belly's full, you are clean, warm, nothing seems to be off, I think your Mumma has just forgotten the most important thing, a lullaby!” Birdy looked at her mother with wide eyes, while she simply just smiled at her. “When you were a baby you could be quite fussy as well and the only way to get you to settle down was for me to sing a little lullaby. So I think what these two need is a little diddy and they’ll be right as rain.” Birdy’s mother began to hum one of the ever so familiar songs from her childhood. A song to ease her worries as her mother held her.

“I'm rocking you to sleep, the water's dark and deep inside this ancient heart. You'll always be a part of me.” both babies had stopped crying and were now yawning, holding onto the fingers of the women holding them.

“Goodnight, my angel, now it's time to dream. And dream how wonderful your life will be. Someday your child may cry and if you sing this lullaby, then in your heart, there will always be a part of me.” Little Lyra had drifted off into slumberland, while Grant had gone quiet, his eyes fighting hard to stay open but as Birdy continued to brush her pointer finger down his nose, it was becoming a losing battle.

“Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on. They never die, that’s how you and I will be.” Both babies asleep, Birdy looked up at her mother in relief but stopped when she saw the sad look in her familiar eyes.

“Birdy since you were just a Babe in my arms I dreamed this moment over and over again, it never varied until now. I need you to know that I love you so much and I’m so very proud of you, proud of the woman you have become. You are a superhero, not many mothers out there can say their child is a superhero.” it felt as if her heart had dropped to the pit of Birdy’s stomach as she watched her mother put Little Lyra back in the playpen with a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m sharing this moment with you now because I know it’s going to come true for you, but I need you to remember something for me...” Lyra placed her hand on her daughter's cheek, brushing the single tear away. “Remember you were loved by me. That you made my life a happy one, and there is no tragedy in that.” Kissing Birdy on the forehead? Lyra moved towards the back door, her daughter getting up as carefully as possible, hoping not to wake the babies.

“Don’t go please, I love you!”

With a smile on her face Lyra blew a kiss to her daughter and then was out the door.

Birdy gasped sitting up. Wanda, falling off of her, being forced from the comfortable place where she had laid her head on Birdy’s stomach to watch the Breakfast Club in the blanket fort that Peter and Morgan had assembled earlier in the day. The fort took up over half of the New Avengers main living room and sat in front of the television. It's where the duo, Peter and Morgan had hung out and watched cartoons together, waiting for budget meetings and debriefings for the week to be over.

Wanda and Birdy had quickly fallen in love with the fort, and with Peter and Morgan for inviting them inside to help keep the little girl company until her parents were done working for the day. When Morgan had left they had decided to leave it up for a John Hughes movie marathon. Bucky and Steve had come to join the youngest Avengers in watching the films.

All eyes had moved from Breakfast Club to a gasping Birdy. Wanda’s hand was quick to grab hers and give it a reassuring squeeze, trying to pull her from her frantic daze. Birdy’s eyes started to scan the cozy space, seeing that the popcorn was all gone and Peter had stopped mid way to the Jelly Beans, now peering at her in worry. Bucky was on his side looking from her to Steve, as he put his hand on her shoulder, trying to give comfort.

“I’ll go get Mr. Barton and Miss Natasha!” Peter’s quick reflexes had him out of the fort in seconds, without knocking anything down, before anyone could say anything.

Birdy was trying so hard to figure out what was going on. She knew where she was, at the compound. She knew it was Friday, movie nights with Peter and Wanda, and that she had fallen asleep at the end of Weird Science, her least favorite John Hughes movie.

She had been dreaming, yet it felt so real. But she wasn’t carrying a child and she wasn’t even dating anyone, so it made no sense. Also her mother just leaving like that? Strange. The more Birdy thought on the dream the more her head started to hurt. Someone calling her name pulled her from her thoughts and looking up Clint stood crouched above her.

“Hey Kiddo, are you back with us?” Clint held out his hand to Birdy, which she gladly took, letting go of Wanda’s, and allowing the archer to pull her up off the blanketed floor. Natasha stood at the entrance of the fort in her pajamas, looking in, watching as Clint hugged the younger woman. Right away Natasha knew something was off.

“Yeah, I’m sorry you guys, I had the strangest dream and it-” Birdy’s face was scrunched up in almost confusion, as she stared off behind Clint’s shoulder. “-It felt so real.” Her voice died off as Clint hugged her close to him.

“It wasn’t a vision was it?” Natasha moved inside the blanket fort, her question was more of one of concern. Every time that Birdy had a vision, something bad was about to happen or come their way, like the time she had envisioned the meeting with General Ross, the next day the team was torn in two, because of the Sokovia Accords. Birdy just shook her head, it wasn’t a vision that she knew of.

“Well if it was just a dream, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Wanda and Peter, why don’t you go make chamomile tea. Steve go adjust the temperature? I think it’s a little warm. Bucky do whatever it is you want to do.” Natasha waved the former assassin off, “Clint and I are going to just sit in here with you until you feel better.” Sitting on the loveseat, Natasha patted the empty cushion next to her as Clint guided Birdy to sit next to her.

Before anyone could do what the Black Widow demanded, a gust of wind blew through knocking many of the blankets to the ground. Bucky was up on his feet in flash as none of the windows were open. This gust of wind was not ordinary. Steve moved to the opening of the fort with a pillow in front of him, peeking out into the living room.

In front of the windows facing the vast forestry surrounding the compound, stood Pietro Maximoff and Jasper Valentine, the pair of them holding on to Birdy’s older brother Rory. The trio looked disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and their hair all over the place. Steve felt his body relax when he recognized them, dropping the pillow to the ground. Scoffing, Jasper let go of the warlock first, and made his way forward, hugging Steve.

“Rory Sellar, what have I told you about just portaling unannounced into the compound?” Steve let go of Jasper before he made his way to Pietro, hugging the twin of his teammate, then to Rory, who just cleared his throat and looked to the ground. Pietro shook his head, getting Steve’s attention, immediately the scolding died in Steve’s throat.

“Steve, is Birdy awake?” Rory’s voice cracked as Natasha and Bucky looked out. Bucky gave a slight wave of his hand at the newcomers, while Natasha tilted her head in the direction of the fort. The group made their way inside the massive fort following behind Natasha. Birdy, jumping up from the couch at the sight of her older brother, rushed to give him a hug. Rory took his little sister in his arms, hugging her tightly, as he kissed her on the crown of her forehead.

“I just had the weirdest dream…” Birdy pulled away as she heard Rory sniffle, looking up at him in concern.

“Birdy I’m so sorry, she wouldn’t let me portal to come get you, she said she didn’t want you to see her that way.” Birdy’s face scrunched up in confusion. “I begged her to let me come get you, but she said no, and Dad agreed.” Rory started to let the tears fall.

“Rory, you aren’t making any sense, what is going on?” Pietro was by the warlock's side in an instant, his hand on his shoulder, looking at Wanda, who gasped after reading her twin brother's mind. Wanda looked away with tears in her eyes, hand covering her mouth in shock and sadness.

“What’s wrong? Is everyone okay?” Thousands of questions swam through her head, as her brother grabbed her hand, holding it as Natasha made her way to the younger girl's side.

“It’s mom Birdy, she’s gone.” tears started to build up behind the girl's eyes at her brother's words. Shaking her head, Birdy felt as if the room dropped ten degrees in that moment. “She has gone to be with souls in the great beyond.”

Before anyone knew it Birdy was falling to knees, a cry erupted from her mouth, “No!”

Birdy screamed while the power in the building started to flicker as the walls started to shake. Natasha, at Birdy’s side, pulled her to her side. Steve looked around realizing they needed to get the young witch calmed down or they were going to be in trouble.

“Rory you need to get her out of here, the building isn’t going to be able to handle this sort of shaking.” As he spoke part of the stucco from the ceiling fell on his shoulder.

Rory reached down holding onto his little sister's shoulder and looked back at Clint, “I’ll be right back for you.” In a flash, through a portal, the trio were gone. As fast the shaking and flickering lights had started they had stopped. The rest of the group stood there staring at the empty spot that once was Natasha, Rory and Birdy, feeling a sudden emptiness with the news they had heard. Things were about to change and it was out of their control.

[amor-immortalem]

30 Miles North part 3

Previous

Warnings: Nothing just angst

A/N: I’m sorry ! I’m trying so hard to write the next chapter for Can I Stay With You Forever but this is just one giant roadblock that I can’t get around until its written down. It shouldn’t be but one more part until its done.

The room is quiet as everyone gets ready to take their leave for the night. Mammon doesn’t mind- he understands. His brothers all have their own families they need to take care of and an ICU room with ten people crammed into it was starting to feel a little cramped. Mammon even sent his sons home as well. Lucifer is the last to leave just like he always is.

“I want to know if anything changes,” The first-born says quietly.

“You’ll be the next to know after Arella,” Mammon nods as he sees his older brother out. “If you find whoever did this to my daughter, I want them sent directly to me... once I get my hands on ‘em I’ll...”

Lucifer only turns his black-to-crimson gaze back to the second-born at the threat that hung in the air.

“Just worry about Azalea, Mammon. You can leave those bottom-feeders to me and Lord Diavolo. When we find them- and trust me, we will find them- we'll be throwing the book at them. From physical assault to abduction of a noble to a possible sexual assault- maybe multiple- even attempted first-degree murder. Their punishment will be severe in every sense of the word.”

Mammon bristled at the implication that his daughter may have been raped. He turned his gaze back to her as he remembered how the doctor had told him her legs had been broken and the thought that it might have been multiple times made him sick to his stomach. His hands balled into fists, claws digging so deep into the flesh it drew blood.

He was drawn out of his thoughts when he felt Lucifer’s hand on his shoulder- a look of concern in his older brother’s eyes leaving the second-born to study himself. He hadn’t realized that he’d gotten so worked up his demon form had manifested. With a few deep-breaths, Mammon was able to calm himself to the point it dissipated.

“I’m alright, Luce.” He sighs as he rubs his eyes, “I promise.”

Lucifer didn’t seem convinced but dropped the subject.

“I’ll call you tomorrow morning, alright?” he says as Mammon nods and Lucifer leaves.

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

After a few hours of just sitting in silence and periodically nodding off only to be scared back awake by nightmares, Mammon takes a walk around the halls. He has a lot on his mind with all that’s happening and not having Arella’s moral support there, makes the Avatar of Greed feel more weighed down by it all. He doesn’t want to bother her at this hour as she needs all the rest she can get after letting her cold get so bad it developed into something more serious, but he really needed to talk to her. He feels torn. Does he talk to Arella and put all of his emotional problems on her or does he just stay silent and let it all consume him? She was only a phone call away... The thought is tempting.

He doesn’t have to think about it too long since Arella seems to made the decision for him. He stares at his vibrating phone in his hand before answering.

“Hey,” Mammon says softly, “Yer s’pposed ta be restin’, Hon. Ya shouldn’t be awake at this hour...” it’s a half-hearted scolding.

“I know but I can’t sleep and I know you’re really going through it right now. I can feel it through the pact...” Arella says with a sigh. “My fever’s starting to break if that gives you one less thing to be worried about...”

“It helps a little...” He sits down in the threshold of Azalea’s hospital room.

“Then let me take a little more off your mind... What are you feeling right now?”

“... A mix of things... a lil’ of this, a li’ of that... I don’t even know where ta start, ‘Rella. It’s like I can’t do anything right for our daughter anymore... an’ I hate myself for it.”

“Talk to me about it. Why do you hate yourself?”

“I’m her father. I’m s’pposed ta be the one who’ll protect ‘er always but then I go an’ let this happen? I feel like... like have no right to call myself a parent at all. I’m terrible at this”

“You’re not though. I know that’s what it feels like to you, but you are a better father than you think. Think back to the way you were before Cyrus was born. It was common place to see you stealing, lying, cheating just to get your hands on even one piece of grimm. After Cyrus, all of that stopped- it nearly killed you but still... You changed so you could set a good example for him and the rest of our children. You’ve worked hard every day for us to have what we do. Our kids see that example you’ve set for them and they hold themselves to that standard every day. You taught them morals that have shaped them into the individuals they are today. For example: that first time Azalea ever got into a fight with a classmate back in preschool where she lost control of herself and maimed the young man. There’s a reason we haven’t had another case of her maiming a classmate while in a fight.

Don’t you remember you’re the one who taught her that if things have to come to blows and running away isn’t an option, that she should only strike to bruise, to never maim or kill? Or how about this: don’t you remember how when Cyrus was little and he stole those keychains that had caught his eye, that you taught him better ways of ignoring that impulse to just take whatever he wanted and to ask us for it instead. Or how about when Aurelius first decided to start modeling seriously for Majolish and was having trouble with an especially persistent pair of fans? Do you remember that you’re the one who taught him that he doesn’t have to let them just do whatever they wanted with him- that it was okay for him to put boundaries in place so he didn’t have to feel uncomfortable?”

“Ya act like you didn’t have anythin’ ta do with all that, Treasure. You helped with all that too.” the demon says with a soft chuckle.

“I mean I did help, but my point was that you had a hand in that too, Dear. A bad father doesn’t do all that, only a good one does.”

“But still... with Azalea specifically, I coulda been less... reactive that night. There wasn’t any reason I needed ta fly off the handle like that at ‘er and yet I still did and now I’m sitting in the ICU wing watchin’ ‘er fight for her life... and it’s not like I didn’t know what was gonna happen either. I knew that she was more than likely gonna run off in the middle of the night an’ I did nothin’ ta make sure that didn’t happen. And then once I did notice she was gone, like an idiot, I didn’t go out ta look for ‘er right away or pop by the dorm ta make sure she’d gotten there safely. If I woulda acted sooner, the damage wouldn’t have been this bad. The only reason I even found ‘er at all today was that my crows found ‘er and came ta get me.”

“You didn’t go after her for a good reason,” Arella lets out a sigh, “You have to remember Mammon, our daughter is a little too much like you sometimes. There are times where the both of you can be too impulsive and if you had gone after her before either of you were completely calm, one of you would have done something you regret.”

“Yeah but-”

“No buts, Love. As far as the whole fight is concerned, Azalea is a teenager now. And I’m sure you know just as well as anyone else that raising teenagers is difficult. We’re going to clash from time to time. Things are going to happen- be they good or horrible. We’re all going to stumble and fall from time to time because we aren’t perfect but the important thing is that we help pick ourselves back up and correct our mistakes.”

Mammon only nods as he lets out a small ‘mhm’. He leans his head back against the wall as he closes his eyes.

“I’m going to let you go now, Honey. I know it won’t be easy for you, but please try to get some rest- for all of us.”

“Alright, you too, Babe. Sleep well. I’ll call you if she takes a turn for the worst.”

“Thank you. And remember, Mammon, I love you. Always.”

“I love ya too. Always.”

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

Next

[xlovelyyoongix]

don’t leave me alone | ksj

(I do not own this gif) 

summary: how were you supposed to say goodbye to the only man you ever loved?

pairing: Seokjin x f. Reader (ft. Yoongi)

warnings: zombie apocalypse, main character death, violence,  final goodbyes, blood, use of a gun, cursing, panicked reader, and panicked Yoongi.

Genre: heavy angst ( i’m so sorry for this...)

w/c: 2k ( one-shot )

a/n: so, instead of writing a warm and fuzzy holiday fic, I wrote this... wtf is wrong with me 😅? Anyways, huge thanks to @excusemin​ for being a sweetie and overlooking this and also crying with me 😭. Maybe make sure you have tissues before reading, yeah? I promise I’ll write a Jin fluff soon to make up for it. 💕

"Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!" Yoongi repeats with a dry throat, hands gripping onto Seokjin's shoulders to drag the older male's limp body into the room. "Close the fuckin door before they get in, Y/N!" he yells with a panic.

"Got it!" Ignoring the grunting of the undead chasing behind you, your hand slams the door shut the second you make it into the room. You make sure to lock the nob, but even that wasn't enough to keep the walking dead at bay; you need something big enough to barricade the door. Frantic, your eyes scan around the office-like room and spot a large desk that could be put to good use.

You sprint over, hands gripping at the metal of the desk but immediately met with the heavyweight of the object. "Y-Yoongi..." You grunt with clenched teeth, attempting to move the desk. "I can't move this on my own," you mutter in struggle.

"Can't you see I'm fuckin busy, Y/N!" Yoongi was never one to cuss or even raise his voice, but with the gravity of the situation, he panicked as he propped his best friend's body against a wall.  

Seokjin releases a sick cough, body wincing at the pain rippling throughout the damage of his legs. "I... I'm alright for now, Yoongi." His voice, weak as he struggles to speak. "Go help Y/N, please." Even being this close to death, Jin was still as polite as ever.

"Yeah, but..." Yoongi's eyes saddened as he gazed upon Seokjin's wounded state. His once flawless skin, now tainted with bloody cuts and purple bruises. Lips, formerly known for their pink, plush appearance now swallowed by a deep blue. It was clear Jin didn't have long to live, leaving no time for Yoongi to argue. "Fine," he releases a heavy breath. "I'll be right back."  

Following Seokjin's orders, Yoongi sprints towards you, assisting with pushing the heavy metal desk against the door to help keep the zombies outside.

With the task completed, your body lunges to your boyfriend's side. "Seokjinnie..." You whimper at the sight of color, leaving his precious face, and when your hand reaches to cup his cheek, you're met with skin as cold as ice. "A-are you in any pain?"  

Seokjin was definitely in pain, so much pain that his brain began to fog, making it hard for him to focus on anything other than the blood oozing injuries in both of his legs. "I... I'm fine, love." He lied, not wanting to make you worry more than you already have been. "All the blood leaving my body is starting to turn me numb." He grunts.

"Y-you'll be fine." Your breath staggers in your throat. "E-everything will be fine, baby," words rambling with a trembling lip. "We'll get you back to the compound, and the medics can look over your wounds and-"

"Listen, Y/N," The sudden power behind Seokjin's voice knocks you from your train of thought. "We both know I'm not making it outta here alive." Despite the grimness of his words', Jin somehow managed a smile as if coming to terms with his approaching demise. "I'll turn before we can even make it back to the compound."

You knew it was true. You knew that nothing could save your boyfriend at this point, but you refuse to believe it. "No, you're wrong!" You shout, a warm tear slipping down your cheek. "You're going to be alright, Jin! You just have to hang on! We can make it to the compound and-"

"Y/N, please" Seokjin's weak voice breaks your sentence. "I don't want to turn into one of them." His cold hand gives yours a comforting squeeze, wanting to feel the warmth of your lovely skin again before he leaves this world. "I don't want you to see me as one of them, so..." His darkening eyes rolled over to Yoongi, who was sitting at his right side. "Yoongi is going to shoot me."  

Your heart drops, jaw falling open from disbelief. "W-what?" Blood running cold as your body begins to tremble because he couldn't be serious, right? "No, absolutely not!" You protest in a frantic state. "We are going to take you back home-"  

"Y/N,..." Yoongi's eyes narrow towards you with a clenched jaw. "You know what happens after someone is bitten." He knows not to sugar coat it for you because the longer the two of you just sit there, the less time Seokjin has. "Don't make this harder on him."

Even though you hated it and didn't want to believe it, Yoongi was right. Seokjin was bitten, and the blood in his body was growing colder and colder by the second. "I... I know b-but," The whites of Jin's once dewy eyes become taken over by the virus, leaving them a deathly pitch black. "Don't leave me alone, Jin..." Your words, barely audible as your tears become potent. "I love you, I love you so much, and this hurts. I don't want to be without you..."

Using what strength he had left, Seokjin leans in for a kiss. His cold lips press onto the warmth of your own, basking in the serenity of your beauty. His thoughts start to wander, and he doesn't know if this is just his brain's way of coping with death, but he notices he's beginning to slip into a peaceful fantasy with you.

A fantasy where both of you stand in a lovely field of white flowers, the sun shining down so bright, your adorable face radiates and youthful glow that only enhanced all the beautiful features Seokjin loved about you.    

Standing tall, Seokjin places a loose strand of hair behind your ear. With eyes so big and your smile so bright, it melted him inside. It felt amazing, seeing you like this one final time, and Jin wished he could stay in this euphoric-like dream with you forever. A dream where he could use his strength to hold you, kiss you, and make love to you. However, the quick stabbing of reality begins to set in again, ripping him from his tranquil daydream.  

Seokjin slowly pulls away from the kiss, his thumb caressing across your cheek to help soothe your sadness. "I love you too, Y/N." He manages a smile, thankful for his short fantasy because now he has the strength to say goodbye. "I love you more than you could ever know, but please..." Jin's thick brows crinkling together, gulping in the air around him, preparing for what was next. "Let me leave this world while I'm still human. While I'm still the man, you love."

You don't want to believe it. You want to say no and drag Seokjin back to the compound and force someone, anyone, to save him because you can't imagine the man you love gone from this world so soon. But, no matter how much you wanted to change his fate, Seokjin was already destined to die this way. "O...Okay." You whimper, teeth gnawing at your lip to hold back any words of protest. Leaning in, you place one final kiss across Jin's cold lips before looking at your friend. "Yoongi..." And for the first time ever, you saw Yoongi's tears.

Yoongi's body trembled with despair, the gun shaking in his hand at the very thought of having to end his best friend's life. He's done it before, killed someone. It's nearly impossible to survive through the apocalypse without having to do so, but he'd never thought he'd have to use a bullet on someone that he loved.    

"Brother," Seokjin's voice creeps in slowly, placing a hand over Yoongi's shivering one. "It's going to be alright." He manages a weak smile, looking up at his dearest friend. "We've had fun together, right?"

A breathy chuckle vibrates from Yoongi's throat as he remembers all the eventful times spent with Seokjin. Friends as teenagers, graduating from college and becoming roommates as the two struggled to find their place in the corporate world. Every laugh, every smile, all of it flashing before Yoongi's eyes. "Yeah, we had a shit ton of fun, hyung." Yoongi laughs, rubbing tears out the corner of his eyes.

"So don't cry for me. I've lived a good life." A smile stretched across Seokjin's face, but he couldn't fool the fact that he was in pain. "I need you to stay strong and look after Y/N." His weak hand, gripping tightly onto Yoongi's. "Can you do that for me ?"

Yoongi rapidly nods his head in agreement, "I will. I'll look after her for you, hyung." Voice cracking in the back of his throat.

"Good." Seokjin grips the barrel of Yoongi's gun, guiding the weapon to be placed against the temple of his head. "I can feel it. I won't last much longer." Taking hold of your hand, Jin takes a deep breath to ease the anxiety rippling throughout his body. "I'm ready," he said, coming to terms with his inevitable end.

Yoongi's somber orbs glide to yours, grabbing your attention. "Close your eyes, Y/N. You shouldn't watch this part." Since the beginning of the zombie apocalypse, you've seen plenty of death, but Yoongi knows this will be the death that haunts your dreams at night.

There was no time to object or whine. Despite the growing ache in your heart, you had to let Seokjin pass on the way he wanted. "Okay," Your lips tremble, giving Jin one final glance before your lashes flutter shut.

Gun shaking in his hand, Yoongi attempts to let his mind fall blank, fearing if he over-thought it, he wouldn't be able to follow through with Seokjin's final wish. He takes an anxious bite of his lip, finger seconds from the trigger, waiting for Jin's signal.  

Closing his eyes, Seokjin grips onto your hand as tight as he possibly could. Of course, he was scared, and of course, he didn't want to leave you but, he'd rather die a man than turn into one of them. Taking a deep final breath, Jin nods, giving Yoongi the confirmation that he was ready.

BANG

The loud sound of the bullet echoed throughout the air. Maroon blood splattering across the office wall as Seokjin's hand grew limp in yours. Your lashes flicker open to the discovery of your boyfriend's body now slack and lifeless. "S-Seokjinnie...?" Your weak voice calls, but when he doesn't respond, a tsunami of anguish crashes over you. You can't catch your breath, your chest begins to tighten, and hot tears run down your face, streaming heavier than ever before. "NO!"

Before your body could collapse, Yoongi catches you from behind, pulling you in between his legs to cradle your sobbing body into his chest. He wants to tell you not to cry, that Seokjin wouldn't want you to be sad, but Yoongi couldn't even stop his own tears from falling. The only thing his weak body was capable of doing was stroking your hair as he rocked you in his arms, his mourning tears sliding onto the top of your head.

Eventually, the two of you would leave the building. You'd take your rage out on the zombies and let your bullets rip through their bodies as you escape back to the compound, but right now the two of you were too weak with grief. Only capable of clenching onto one another as you allow the hot sting of your tears to burn your eyes.

You would cry, and cry, and cry until you physically couldn't cry anymore...

[crimsonrae]

Across the Road, At the Brothel

Chapter Two

Summary: Jaskier fell in love any day that the sun rose in the East. It was a trifling, pleasurable experience for him. Even when he was jumping out a window to avoid cuckolded husbands. So what happens when his trifles start to become more significant? Jaskier/OC. Some Yennefer/Geralt

A/N: Jaskier is just too adorable not to write about. This is a relationship development story with an OC. There will be smut in later chapters and plenty of angst.

Rating: Mature

Or Dove...It was the low murmur of voices and the rather ominous thunking of feet on floorboards that woke Jaskier. For a dull moment, he thought Geralt had returned from... wherever the fuck he had flitted off to. To be honest, he hadn't paid much attention. After three weeks without a bed, a bath, or a decent meal for that matter – despite what Geralt thought he was not a culinary wizard – Jaskier had been far more focused on enjoying the simple pleasures of which he had been deprived and those pleasures did not include traipsing back out into the wild to find some Gods forsaken creature that could, quite possibly, rend him limb from bloody limb.

Opening blurry eyes, he cast about the room for the hulking form of his friend and frowned when he saw no one. It took longer than he would like to admit before he realized that the noise he was hearing was coming from outside his room. Sitting up, his head pulsed with a faint pain and he groaned, quietly remembering the amount of wine he had imbued the night before. He had to hand it to the Toussaint province when they set out to make wine. They made bloody good wine.

A soft yawn unfurled from his lips and he squinted almost peevishly at the light shining in through the window. It had to be a little before midday, his late-night had ensured that he had most certainly missed breakfast. Biting back another yawn, Jaskier slowly went about his usual morning ablutions. He had to admit it was rather nice not to have a pair of golden eyes silently observing his usual rituals, also a little lonely, but that was not something he wanted to dwell on too closely. He and Geralt had basically been living in each other's pockets lately, time apart was more than needed. And yet...

Jaskier sighed quietly as he finished dressing and headed for the door. He supposed that it was time for him to resurface to reality and sniff out whatever it was that had his companion traipsing through wine country. Hopefully, it was a search for a good bottle of Bordeaux, though unlikely. It didn't take long for him to find the inn empty of its keeper as he made his way outside, his stomach rumbling. The first point of order was to track down some food before he went in search of information. It was still a tad early for a midday meal, but he was sure he could find something at the local markets to nibble on.

...Well, market was a strong term he supposed as he looked about.

While Glynedol was not exactly a one-road town, it came rather close. It seemed the road that he and Geralt had come in on was the main road through the town. It had the inn, the tavern, and the brothel all within a few metres of each other. It looked like there was an apothecary not too far down, as well as a cobbler and smithy a little further from that. His stomach twisted with a faint nauseous hunger and Jaskier had to wonder why he hadn't seen any stalls set up for traders. It was harvest season, after all. Usually, vendors would be selling their wares at any small spit such as this little town. Frowning, he glanced about and realized that there weren't many people about either. He could understand most working the fields of their farms for the last bits of produce before autumn, but surely it was getting late enough and certainly warm enough in the day for more to be taking a break and heading into the local watering hole for a respite. It was all a bit... odd.

"Nigel, you can't keep doing this. Not with winter on the way."

Jaskier perked up as a familiar voice caught his attention. The barmaid. Lyrra. She might be willing to guide him about. His eyes quickly scanned the sides of the road but saw neither hide nor hair of her.

A low rumble seemed to answer her back and Jaskier found himself detouring down a side alley by the brothel. He turned a corner and found his lovely maiden knelt down before a slovenly mess of a man. With her back to him, he silently took in her form. Gone was the headscarf she had wrapped around her head the night prior and he could see luscious chestnut hair tethered in a loose braid. The loose frock and apron she wore as she had worked were replaced by a more form-fitting dress. It was simple in style, but he found he far preferred it to her other ensemble.

"What would Mae say if she saw you now?" Lyrra murmured softly as she tried to coax the man slumped against the wall to stand.

The man's hazy green eyes landed on Jaskier and the bard could tell that the man was drunker than a skunk. Still, he had enough wherewithal to nod at him, "Who's 'e?"

"Wh-?" Lyrra started to ask as she turned, obviously expecting no one as her soft grey eyes widen at the sight of Jaskier. She frowned slightly at him before plastering on a soft smile for the drunkard, "He's a bard. One that has a future as a thief with the way he sneaks about."

"I don't know if I'm offended or flattered by that comment." Jaskier muttered thoughtfully as he stepped up next to her, "Do I not get an introduction, as well?"

A flash of exasperation crossed her features and he hid a smile as she gestured down to her friend, "Jaskier, this is Nigel. Nigel, Jaskier. We'll be on our way now."

Jaskier smirked at her none too subtle hint to go away and glanced at Nigel. He wrinkled his nose and hummed, "Hmmm, will you though?"

Lyrra frowned and looked to see that Nigel had passed out during her introduction. A sigh of weariness escaped her as she knelt again to shake her friend awake with little luck. Jaskier raised a brow at her efforts, "Oh, leave him here, Lyrra. He can sleep it off in the alley just as easily a bed."

"He's been out here all night." She mumbled, her disapproving tone matching the glare she threw over her shoulder at him.

He shrugged, "And somehow he's been left alone... well, till you came along that is. Besides, he'll probably regret the state he is in now more if he were to wake up in a filthy alley than if he were to wake in a warm bed. Less likely for a repeat performance this way."

"That's rather unlikely." Lyrra uttered quietly as she patted the man's cheek, "Come on, Nigel. Just a few minutes and you can sleep again, dove."

"Always been my experience." Jaskier stated blandly as he continued to watch.

"And has it been your experience to drink yourself dumb to ease the pain of your wife's passing?" Lyrra questioned echoing his tone as she stood to face him, "Somehow, I think grief wins over discomfort."

"Ahh." Jaskier's amusement at the situation dropped as a tendril of remorse curled in his gut. Pity flared to life in his heart for the stranger as he resisted the urge to squirm under Lyrra's indifferent gaze. He sighed, "All right."

Jaskier quickly took up Lyrra's previous position before the grieving widower. His hand reached out and quickly found the hollow above the man's collar bone before pressing in and curling his finger over the bone with a decent amount of force. Nigel spasmed and jerked awake from the attack on his pressure point, green eyes wide in betrayed bafflement. Jaskier found he couldn't blame him for that look. Geralt had used that particular move on him enough that he was familiar with the sensation that had shot through Nigel's body. It wasn't exactly painful, but it was definitely not pleasurable. Quickly before Nigel had a chance to gather his bearings to slip back off again, Jaskier tugged his arm up and over his shoulders forcing the drunk to stand.

"Don't you dare throw up on me." The bard threatened with a wince as he finally caught wind of the noxious fumes of alcohol coming off the other man's body. Gods, if he hadn't fucking smelled last night, he surely did now. All this on an empty stomach too. He raised an expectant brow as Lyrra gawked at him, "Where to?"

She started slightly and waved a hand down the alley, "This way."

Jaskier grunted softly, channeling his inner Geralt as he half dragged Nigel down the alley. To his surprise, it really wasn't terribly far before they stopped again. He had been prepared to go a few blocks at least. Not less than fifteen metres or so. He was sure his brows were touching his hairline as he realized what door they were stopped in front of, "He's drunker than a fish in an ocean and you want to leave him in a brothel? I don't know if this man will love you or hate you for that."

A light flush suddenly coated her cheeks as she looked away embarrassed but still, she knocked at the wooden door. A second later the entry was thrown open and a stern older woman peered out. Jaskier tried not to cringe under her heavy stare, even as he quirked a small grin at her. It was a wonder this place got any business if men had to go through that battleaxe of a woman. Yet the moment she laid eyes on Lyrra she softened before peering more intently at the form now dangling into Jaskier's side.

"Again?"

Lyrra nodded quietly and the older woman sighed, "Come on, then."

She stepped aside and began to cluck like an old mother hen. Jaskier listened passively as she pestered Lyrra about being too kindhearted and reiterated a variant of what he had suggested earlier. Leave Nigel to whatever bed he made, essentially. As the drunk began to weigh more heavily on his shoulders, Jaskier was silently inclined to agree. In his periphery, he could see women in various states of undress as they moved down a hall lined with doors. Most ignored the small group, while a few waved at Lyrra and offered a sympathetic smile. He was sure it was the first time in his life he had ever been so soundly ignored by a group of whores. He itched with the desire to check his pockets and make sure his coin hadn't been lifted without his notice.

" 'Ere we are. Jus lay 'im on the bed, luv." The matron said stoutly with a nod forward.

Jaskier basically dropped the man once he was close enough and breathed a quiet sigh of relief at the sudden lack of weight.

"We got 'im now petal. Don't ya worry none."

Jaskier turned in time to catch Lyrra's grateful smile and the subtle palming of a few coins before he fell under the matron's stern glare. A ribald comment was poised on the tip of his tongue when he suddenly felt delicate fingers tugging him away and back outside. He eyed the woman before him with renewed curiosity, "Well, that was an adventure. You're welcome by the way."

Lyrra paused and gazed at him uncertainly for a moment before she offered him a rueful smile, "Thank you for helping."

Jaskier smiled faintly, "Yes, well who am I to deny a damsel in distress?"

He swore she rolled her eyes though her smile never diminished. She caught him by surprise though as she tilted her head curiously at him, "You seem to be coming to my rescue quite a bit it seems."

"Oh?" Jaskier questioned in confusion. His mind raced as he tried to place what other time he had come to her aid.

"Hillard told me you chased out the man who propositioned me last night." She reminded him quietly.

It was his turn to blush, as he felt an unfamiliar heat creep into his cheeks, "Oh er um... Your barkeep saw that, did he?"

Lyrra nodded, "He said you gave him a good laugh."

Well, that was something at least, Jaskier thought woefully, though silently relieved that his childish antics hadn't brought him scorn from either the lady or the barkeep.

"Though I do have to ask. Are you following me?"

Jaskier blinked and smirked, "Why? Do you want me to go? You wound me so, lovely Lyrra. Your attentions are rather hard-won. Especially, after lugging a man down an alley for you."

His eyes twinkled mischievously as she blushed and lightly scowled at him. It was fun to get a reaction from her. She shook her head in exasperation or amusement he wasn't sure which, perhaps both as she replied, "That wasn't what I meant and you know it. The tavern was one thing. I work at the Rose and Pine and you happened to be performing there. But now...?"

In truth, he hadn't been looking for her. He hadn't given her much thought beyond a trifling disappointment at a potential tryst thwarted and an interesting conversation lost. Though the conversation part had been regained it seemed. Yet, he could give her a more playful charming answer, "This morning more like for some of us. When I heard your voice dance across the air, I couldn't help but follow its lead. Much like following a siren's call."

"... You use such pretty words." She surprised him again when he caught the disappointment seeping in her grey orbs like storm clouds. She fixed that polite smile he had received before... the one he had noticed she gave to overly-friendly, but strange customers. It was like seeing a physical manifestation of Geralt's silent glare that said he was now merely tolerating whoever was before him. Usually, it was Jaskier.

"Huh. I – I don't think I've ever heard someone say that like it was an insult before." He murmured with a furrowed brow, feeling like he was losing his grip on...on something.

Lyrra shrugged indifferently, "So what were you really doing this morning then?"

Jaskier stared as he realized that it wasn't that he was losing his grip, but that she could see through his bullshit. Bollocks, "I was looking for some food. An apple or something to nibble on. Rather surprised there weren't merchants anywhere on the street, actually."

As if realizing it herself, she glanced about the street they were drifting down. A frown tugged at her lips, "It has been strange lately."

Her voice was barely louder than a whispered, but Jaskier still caught her words. Maybe this was why Geralt had been so twitchy. Maybe he had sensed something was off with Glynedol – now Jaskier wished he had paid a little more attention to his friend's brief explanations, "Strange how?"

Lyrra shook her head, "Just quiet. Fewer people. Usually, the town is bustling with activity this time of year...it's hard to explain. Your singing brought in more people to the tavern than I had seen in a while."

"Huh." Jaskier huffed, suddenly at a loss for those pretty words she mentioned earlier. He had no idea of what to make of her information or what it could possibly have to do with Geralt's latest venture.

She seemed to sense this as she touched his elbow and nodded behind her, "Come on, let's get you some food."

"Oh yes, that – that is a golden plan right there, that is." He uttered delightedly before his stomach reaffirmed its starved state with a loud gurgle. She snickered softly and his lips quirked as a sinful comment fell from his lips, "Help me sate my body's hunger, lovely Lyrra."

There was no doubt that she rolled her eyes this time as she led the way back to the tavern.

»»————-　　————-««

"Where is your companion?" Lyrra asked lowly as she placed a small bowl of stew before him.

Once they had entered the Rose and Pine, she had disappeared into the back, only to reappear as she had the previous night. Jaskier had felt mild disappointment at the sight of her work frock and headscarf. While practical, he would rather see her lovely hair falling loose from her braid and skimming the small strip of flesh above the neckline of her other gown than this sack of a monstrosity. He said none of this as he munched slowly on his stew.

After a thoughtful moment and under the pressure of her expectant gaze, he shrugged, "Not terribly sure actually. I was more enamored with finding water for a bath when he departed. I saw Roach stabled at the back of the inn still... He couldn't have gone far."

"Roach?"

"His horse." Jaskier clarified with a hint of envy as he thought of his other defacto traveling companion. Should Geralt ever feel the need to ditch him, Roach's disappearance would be his clue, "Geralt loves that beast more than himself. He wouldn't leave her alone for long."

A soft smile crossed Lyrra's lips at this profession. Quietly, she slid into the seat across from him. It was funny, when he wasn't actively pursuing her attention, she seemed not to mind giving it to him, "What's that look then?"

Lyrra blinked and looked at him questionably, "What look?"

"That smile for Geralt's bestial obsession." Jaskier said with a small grin. Had the Witcher been nearby he would have been smacked upside the head for that little comment.

Lyrra shrugged, "Whether a beast of burden or a furry companion, I think it's rather telling of a person on how they treat their pets. Your Geralt seems to be a decent sort at the very least."

Jaskier snorted in amusement, though he couldn't disagree. For as gruff and sinister and outright bloody rude his friend could be, he was more honest and decent than most, "Yes, he is at the very least decent."

She cast him an indecipherable look and he merely smiled back. Finishing his stew, he took the time to really study her. It had been something of game, the previous night to court her attention. She had flitted about the tavern like she was dancing on wind. Her service was so smooth that he hadn't even noticed her until the incident with the leering scruff. Her handling of it had been just as graceful and if he hadn't been standing behind her at the time, he never would have noticed the man's untoward forwardness.

He wasn't sure what had possessed him to comment on it to her, but then she had turned to him. Her grey orbs had shown like stars shining through stormy skies and he had been captivated. She was pretty. Her beauty understated, but nonetheless present as his interest in her continued to climb. It had also helped that Jaskier had caught the interest in her gaze as well. He knew attraction when he saw it. He had been put off when she hadn't acted on hers, however. As fun as it had been to pull blushes to her unblemished cheeks, he hadn't expected to be so thoroughly stonewalled. Admittedly, her reluctance to have anything to do with him was still rather entertaining.

He wondered distantly if there was a word for finding such abhorrence to his person attractive. He was sure it said something about him at any rate, but that too was not something he wanted to dwell on. Instead, he turned his focus back on Lyrra, "So... barmaid, then?... Um, how did you find yourself in that profession?"

He nearly grimaced at how bumbling that had come out. She stared at him silently for a moment, amusement crinkling at the corner of her eyes before saying so dryly, "Well, queen seemed to be taken and I wasn't much for whoring. You?"

"Same." He uttered amusedly, preening when she smiled in quiet laughter.

She shook her head at him and moved to stand, "I need to start getting ready for the dinner hour. Thank you for your help today, sir bard."

"Jaskier, Lyrra." He corrected, longing to hear her recite his name in a more intimate setting.

She smirked, a faint blush appearing as she threw over her shoulder, "Or dove, right?"

Well, well. He grinned in delight at her parting shot and vowed to get her to spend her spare time with him as the night wore on.

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