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tae-cup · 3 years

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Old Money and Brooklyn Babies

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Summary: “Those summer nights seem long ago. And so is the girl you used to call The queen of New York City. But if you send for me, you know I'll come. And if you call for me, you know I'll run” - Lana Del Rey (Old Money)

Genre: Modern/Realistic Au, Angst, like Fluff if you squint, rich people au??

Warnings: Yandere-ish themes, LANGUAGE, drinking, sexual tension (but no smut!), unhealthy relationships, heavy topics, maybe at the end if you think about it maybe depression?, Pathological liar (s?) are involved, your brain has been warned #trust no one.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 7.3k Words

A/N: Ahhh this was such a challenge for me to write but I hope you guys enjoy it! PS I’m sorry. And I’m really nervous to post this because I don’t know how it will turn out askldfhsalkdfh

Other: Masterlist

Loving him was intense, a whirlwind of emotions that could only be compared to a hurricane, a tornado. There was a time when loving him was explosive, a train on its way to be wrecked. The feeling hadn’t disappeared.

You knew it when you saw him standing on the staircase, a new love around his arm. You felt the room buzz when he saw you. Now, standing in this bar of sweat and alcohol where you could barely pay for your next drink, you wondered how things went so wrong.

Just a few weeks ago, you were the queen of New York City, the heiress everyone was talking about, and now you were a nothing, just another nobody in a sea of other nobodies.

Did he see it in your eyes? Did he see the desperation? The same look you had given him a few months ago, the kind of look that he had described as beautiful and exhilarating. Now he turned away in disgust. You tightened your grasp on your glass.

It was your fault.

You had ruined it all. Like you always did.

Six Months Ago

1 A.M. wake up.

Obsess over what you were going to do for the day and plan it meticulously in your mind.

3 A.M.

Get out of bed.

make yourself a cup of coffee and stare in the mirror for a while.

You stood tall, you knew you were a beautiful woman. After all, everyone had been telling you this since you were little. You could easily pass for royalty, that’s what you always thought and you wore it well.

You jutted your chin out, running a hand along your jawline. Then you made sure to put every hair in place, perfectly positioned. The mirror had a small crack in the corner, you made a mental note to buy a new one.

You put on your dark shades sunglasses so that you could barely even see inside. Nonetheless, you stumbled around your apartment like a model, refusing to look unfashionable even in the cold abyss of your living room. Who knew if someone was peering through the windows? That’s why you kept it as dark as possible.

You tripped over the couch. Since when was that there? You asked yourself angrily, as if you hadn’t been living here for the past year, a pretty bubble world built up carefully over a year of work and dedication.

Reality couldn’t catch you here. You stumbled around blindly for a while and then found the door handle.

5 A.M.

With a decisive click, your day had begun.

Astteria Jewelry, a company your father had invested in dearly when he visited the states. You hadn’t been there, but you’d heard a lot about the visit from the newspapers.

“Hello?” You cleared your throat, tapping on the top of the glass counter until someone came over, looking a bit annoyed. The woman’s face was twisted uncomfortably before she plastered a kind smile on her face.

“How may I help you?”

“Yes, yes, I need to try those on.” You pointed to the chunkiest rings in the case. They were encrusted with large and small diamonds, all glittering beautifully.

The woman shot you a skeptical look. You just peered down at her through your dark shaded glasses. She was really straining for that pleasant smile now.

“Of course.” She said tightly and reached under, unlocking the case, and bringing the rings out.

“Ah, I quite like this one.” You gasped happily. The rock on your finger was hard to even hold up, but you liked it well enough. “I’ll take it, as you probably know, my father will be quite happy with this gift.”

“That will be $247,000.” The woman pursed her lips as she removed the ring and placed it back in a box.

“Perfect.” You declared.

“I need your card.”

“Nonsense! Do you even know who I am?”

The woman shook her head, her irritation visibly growing.

“That’s quite alright. You know, my father is a great friend and investor in this company. He has often bought for my mother from this very fine store. I think he even gave us a discount at some point?” You said casually. “My father is the chairman of Sinopec, I think you know it?”

The woman stilled then she looked suspiciously at the door and back at you. “I’ll give Mr. Betta a call.”

“You better.” You snapped back, your patience wearing thin. You were the daughter of Sinopec’s chairman. Everyone knew you, obviously.

The dial tone was especially loud in the quiet store. A few rings and he picked up.

“Yes?” You heard the muffled voice.

“Sir, there’s someone here claiming you gave her family a discount?”

“Who?”

“From Sinopec.” The woman turned away, whispering furiously. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Okay okay, I will.”

“Well?” You turned to her, looking every part the agitated socialite,

“Mr. Betta seems to be under the impression...that you should be allowed this ring and we’ll charge your father.”

“Of course.” You said quickly, taking the box out of her hands and striding out of the store.

Your heart was racing. You felt a weight on your chest and it wasn’t the ring.

Heather was rich. You knew her to be Old Money, everyone did. You always expertly placed yourself next to her in class. She didn’t seem to mind. She was beautiful, maybe even more beautiful than you, but you would never allow that thought to come to fruition.

Heather held herself like a commoner, to put it lightly. She got her morning starbucks, waited in line, ordered and waited patiently, got on a bus, commuted to school and got to class early. You realized a big part of being a ‘normal’ person was waiting around.

“Heather, I was also at that party the other night.” You said to her as she scrolled through her photo album.

“Oh? Really?” She chewed on gum, the sound smacking across her lips. You felt an itch of irritation, but pushed it away.

“Yeah, really.” You drawled.

You carefully placed your ringed finger close to her line of sight. She glanced down for a second then back at her phone, then back at the ring. She put down her phone.

“Where did you get that ring?” She inquired, suddenly very interested in you. She picked up your hand and surveyed the ring from several angles.

“Astteria.” You said nonchalantly. “My father is a good friend of Simon Betta.”

“Who’s your father?” She glanced upwards with a confused look.

“Zhao Dong.” You said easily.

“The chairman of Sinopec?” Heather looked up, confused. “I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you! You’ve changed since I last saw you.”

You smiled and nodded at her words.

“I know. I spent some time away.” You looked nonchalantly at your nails.

“Well you look great, Y/N.” She continued with a small smile.

“Thank you, I know.” You tossed your hair. “Tell me, Heather, are we close? Would you consider me a close friend?”

“I…” She stuttered awkwardly. “N-not close close, but I know your father and...your mother?” She interlaced her fingers and looked away, embarrassed. “Truth be told, I haven’t been keeping up with Sinopec as of late.”

“That’s perfectly alright.” You assured her. “Now, I’ve been looking for a charity to donate to. My dad has been bugging me about the yearly donations.” You said the words so easily, like water out of a waterfall.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, I was wondering if you know any because...well, I know you’re into those charities and non-profits.”

The sound of pages being turned filled the room and you turned back to your work. You didn’t even bother reading the page or taking notes, you had another mission at hand. Heather turned back to her work and after a while, she cleared her throat slightly.

“There’s actually...a gala for an organization that helps fight for LGBTQ+ rights. Would you like to come? I could get you an invite if you just send me your address.” She lowered her voice.

You glanced around. Everyone was focused on their work so you nodded.

“I’m really into helping out when I can, you know? Here I’ll give you my number-” you stopped, thinking it over. “Actually, give me your number.” You prompted.

“Oh? Alright?” She recited her number and you typed it into your phone. You felt her heated stare on the old phone in your hand.

“It’s a friend of mine’s old phone.” You said. “My father has yet to send me the latest one.”

“I see.” Heather narrowed her eyes and went back to taking notes.

You sent her a quick hello and smirked, going back to write down notes. Columbia College had been quite pleased to hear about all the non profit work and extracurriculars, not to mention your straight As in school. It was what you deserved.

“Y/N!” Heather waved you over and you descended the stairs with a smile.

There stood Heather in the middle of this grand ballroom. You tried not to look impressed.

“Heather.” You greeted her with a smile.

She pulled you into a quick hug and then grabbed two champagne glasses. Gold rimmed and bubbling with clear yellow liquid, she handed you a glass. The room was decorated lavishly with red drapes covering dark alcoves and chaise lounges positioned in the corners. These lounges were occupied by men and women all dressed to the nines. This type of luxury was what you deserved.

“You look gorgeous!” She complimented as she took in your appearance.

You had borrowed a dress from your much richer friend, though you personally believed that you pulled off the look better than her. You were the most beautiful after all.

“Ah, thank you. You look exquisite as well.” You brushed a stray hair from your face.

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You turned to the voice and were met with a familiar face. You were shocked to even see him at a place like this. He hadn’t struck you as this kind of person.

You had first met Park Jimin in a club. The lights were dim and you could barely make out his face, but you knew he was beautiful, just like you. The club was a world of beautiful people, all pressed against each other and sweating.

“How old are you?” He asked, looking you up and down as you sat at the bar. You smiled slyly, swirling your drink to the pounding music.

“Probably too young for you.” You shouted over the music.

His hands went to his hair. “Listen! My hair looks gray but I can assure you I am a 25 year old man in good standing!”

You laughed. He seemed nice, genuine. It was a breath of fresh air. His entire aura screamed that he was important, yet his personality quite opposed this notion. You looked him up and down.

He was a man of stature, standing tall and proud amongst the crowd, his hair was a silver gray, his eyes of a similar shade. Jimin was either high society or had no idea how to have fun. You were a perfect match.

“I believe you.” You replied happily, setting down your drink. “Want to get some fresh air?”

He smoothed down his coat and you wondered why he was dressed so formally to go to a nightclub.

“I’d like that very much.”

“Jimin.” You greeted him happily. He gently took your hand in his and kissed the back.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He said cordially, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“And you.” You bowed your head gracefully.

The music of the gala swelled and Heather cleared her throat. Her eyebrows were raised as high as the bronze arches that hung above you.

“You two...know each other?” She asked, eyeing Jimin.

Jimin nodded. “Yes, we met, achem, a little while ago.” You were grateful he didn’t mention the club.

“Well, Jimin is actually performing tonight, aren’t you?” Heather turned to him expectantly.

“Oh? Performing?”

The man seemed embarrassed by the sudden attention on him. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah, yeah, well, I’m just singing-”

“Jimin is an excellent singer.” Heather nodded and you followed suit.

“I’m not that great. My mom just had enough money to bribe the manager.” He joked and you chuckled along.

“Yeah, I get that.” You agreed. “But I’m sure you’re an amazing singer, Jimin.” You looked him up and down, a smile growing.

“He is!” The other girl chimed in before Jimin could protest. The clock chimed 8:00 P.M. and you glanced upwards.

“I think that’s my cue to go.” Jimin announced, waving off a waiter who offered him a glass.

“Alright! Best of luck, Jimin.” You bowed your head politely and he did the same.

Heather watched the interaction intently. Once he was gone, she started laughing which caused you to look over at her sharply.

“You guys really just eye fucked each other for a whole five minutes. I didn’t think it was possible after seeing Anna’s reaction to him. At least it was mutual this time.”

“Anna?”

“Yeah, the daughter of the guy who made Adobe or whatever.”

“Oh, of course, I remember her.” You said easily, grabbing another glass of champagne.

You were going to need a lot of alcohol to make it through this night, but these luxuries were what you had always wanted.

“I would be careful, though, Y/N.” She glanced around. “He doesn’t have the best track record with women, though he attracts them like bees to flowers.”

“Oh I see.” You followed her eyes. “But from the way you look at him, I can assume you’ve been one of those women?”

She narrowed her eyes and then chuckled, though the sound was a bit strained.

“Me And Jimin? No, no. I can admit he is handsome, but we would never make a good pair.” Heather was quiet for a moment and then she crossed her arms, her gaze growing distant. “He’s too caught up in himself. You remind me of him.”

“I beg your pardon?

“Forget I said anything.”

The music began to swell and you looked up from your conversation as the curtain on the stage began to lift. The din of the room died down. A man with a rainbow pin and black tuxedo stood center stage. He held himself with confidence.

“Thank you, everyone, for attending this charity event for the Audre Lorde Project. Today, we are so grateful to be able to present Mr. Park Jimin as our entertainment for the night. If you donate, he will sing a song of your choosing!” The MC leaned in. “Just don’t be inappropriate, folks.” He winked.

“Now presenting….Park Jimin!”

You watched as the familiar man walked on stage. He looked quite dashing, sporting a rainbow tuxedo and white shoes. You were sure they must have cost a fortune. His rings alone must have cost at least $21,000. Then his shoes, oh, his shoes. They were perfectly clean, so white they could reflect the dim lighting.

People were quick to go up and pay for a song. The songs started at $1,000 and you pursed your lips, checking your wallet. Did you have enough? Yes, of course you have enough, you’re the daughter of Sinopec.

You set your mind on deciding a song. Heather began chatting to you about school, but you were hardly paying attention. You started drifting towards the box that held the donations. Heather moved along with you, unknowing to your next move. You straightened, holding up a hand, which quickly silenced Heather, and zeroed in on the box.

Withdrawing your money, you wrote a quick check for $1,000. Then you haphazardly tossed it into the box. Then you wrote your song on the sign up sheet and went back to the center of the room. You waited, tapping your foot impatiently. You wanted everything now, but you could try to be patient for once.

Heather continued talking about...whatever she was talking about. Halfway through her rambling, a familiar tune began to play. Your eyes shot up from where they were resting on your drink to the stage. You could feel Jimin’s heated stare.

“I think I'm too cool to know ya. You say I'm like the ice, I freeze. I'm churnin' out novels like Beat poetry on Amphetamines.” He sang and his voice was a perfect tune.

You felt your toes curl pleasantly as his sweet voice tingled your eardrums. Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey. You eyed him up and down, taking note of a particularly expensive looking Rolex watch.

As you made eye contact with him through the crowd, your heart thumped an untimely beat. Mine.

Jimin left hand in hand with you. What a sight to see. A couple that no one had expected, one out of the blue. You giggled, shifting over in the back of the cab to Jimin’s place.

His hand slowly inched its way over to your thigh and gave it a light squeeze. Your eyes stayed trained on his face. The dark city streets casted eerie shadows over your figures, but you felt calm nonetheless.

Your hand reached out and touched his cheek. A wordless communication. May I? To be answered with you may. And he leaned in, diving into your arms, melding his lips against yours like you were meant to be. You both gasped for air, but it was a battle for dominance and neither of you were about to back down.

You bit playfully at his lips, devouring his strawberry lip balm like it was your last meal. He pushed against you so your back thumped against the door. His hands found your hips and he pressed into you tightly.

Your hands gripped his hair and you refused to part from his lips, the cold metal of his Rolex dug into the fabric of your dress. You wanted that watch.

The taxi slowly pulled up to the apartment complex and you both hurried out. Jimin haphazardly overpaid the driver and you both took a break to get your bearings before walking into his high end apartment building.

“Hey, let’s try to look like we didn’t just make out like animals, okay?” Jimin patted your arm.

So you went about smoothing down your hair, pulling down your skirt a little lower, and patting your cheeks gently to try and, in vain, dispel the light flush.

You both stumbled your way inside, laughing drunkenly. He helped stand you upright, a strong arm wrapped around your waist. There was a jingle of something falling to the ground, but you paid it no mind. He helped you all the way up to his apartment where you leaned against the wall while he searched for his keys.

“Shit!” He cursed, sinking down beside you, his back thumping against the wall. “I lost my keys.” He grumbled.

“Ah, that’s fine.” You laughed, “Just my luck.”

“You seem pretty lucky, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky, I guess, but I want a lot more than luck, you know?”

“And what do you want?”

“You.” You answered quickly.

And that was the first time a lie had registered in your addled brain. Because that wasn’t true, no, not at all. Jimin was wonderful, handsome, smart, but you wanted something more material than these flimsy emotions.

You wanted money. As you watched his expression melt into a lustful haze, you flexed your fingers and clenched them over and over. You could play his game of emotions, you could do it. You thought as he went in for another kiss.

It was a cold morning. Jimin had black out curtains. You could hide from the world very nicely here. You were awake at 1 A.M.

After a long night of searching and making out, the searching part of which you found far more enjoyable, you found his keys. He had dropped them in the lobby on the way in and the desk attendant had grabbed them. You went through your routine, replacing yourself with a pillow in his arms.

“Huh. I always thought that only worked in movies?” You tilted your head and went back to your routine. After a while of getting ready, you sat beside the bed, watching him.

He breathed steadily. You glanced around, finally deciding to explore. You stood, picking up discarded clothes and observing his apartment. It was big, bigger than yours.

There were expensive things everywhere. You could guess he was old money. A glint of gold in the morning light caught your eye. You walked over, carefully not to disturb the floorboards. On his bedside table was the Rolex watch.

“You can keep it.” His gruff voice said. “It’s not important to me, but you’ve been eyeing it all night.”

“Why would you give this to me?” You asked, lifting the watch to look at it in the slim sliver of light that cracked through the curtain. You wanted to applaud his awareness and observation skills.

“There’s something about the desperation in your eyes, Y/N. It’s exhilarating, beautiful, new. People are so...complacent, so okay with their situations nowadays, especially when you’re in positions like you and I. I’m giving it to you as a promise that this wasn’t just a one night thing. I’m serious about this.” Jimin rolled over in bed. “I like people like you, Y/N. I fall in love with people like you.” His words were soft, his expression was stone cold.

And you knew what game he was playing at with extravagant promises and carefully chosen words, you were playing the same game. So you simply let him win.

You could do that, for him, because as much as you were using him to help yourself gain a boost, your heart was beginning to lead you astray. And you could not let that happen. Still, that scent of cinnamon and the taste of strawberries would likely always remind you of him.

Perhaps it was obsession that took you back to his place over and over again. It wasn’t so much him, but the idea of him. Maybe it was the idea that he was rich, that he had money, that he was handsome, but all that aside, you were perfectly incompatible.

Jimin was old money, old money that was long gone. For as long as Jimin remembered, his father had worked very very hard to run his company into the ground. Whether it be with the drinking or the extravagant parties, his money was gone.

He had an unquenchable thirst for money. Some could call it an unhealthy obsession. So when he met you...oh boy. You exuded this confidence, the kind only old money could have. He wanted it.

Call him cruel, but he didn’t mind stepping on a few toes to get where he needed to be. He didn’t mind crushing some woman’s poor dreams. He really didn’t mind. You were another stepping stone. You were supposed to be just another tool for success.

In his alcohol induced state, probably drug induced state as well, he came to the conclusion that you two would make quite a pair indeed, a power couple. But he needed you to become more powerful. It would be a mutually beneficial relationship.

“I don’t know, Jimin, I can get pretty nervous at interviews.” You had told him in response, but there was a gleam of excitement in your eyes, he didn’t read too much into it.

“I think you’ll be fine.” He patted your back with a smile.

Looking back, he never should have gotten you that interview with the New York Times. It was a poor decision on his part. Maybe if things had gone better, if he still remained ignorant of his situation and drank himself into debt like his father, he would be able to continue living his fantasy world. However, this would not be the case. He was not someone who was afraid of getting his hands dirty. And oh how dirty they were to become.

“Thank you, Miss Y/N, for joining us.” The reporter settled down across from you.

“Ah, it’s a pleasure.” You smiled. The woman smiled back and prepared her notepad.

She was a hardworking woman. She wore flats and a nice outfit for this interview, but as you analyzed her posture and position, you knew she would most likely prefer something more comfortable. She slumped ever so slightly, her lipstick was well applied but her nail polish was cracking and half peeled.

“I’m Anna and I’ll be interviewing you.”

“Anna? As in Anna, Adobe Inc’s daughter?”

“Yes!” She nodded happily. “I’m glad you remember me! You know, I only met you once really and we were children so I’m not surprised to see you’ve grown into a beautiful woman. Let’s see here…”

The interview began.

“What was it like, growing up with Zhao Dong as a father?”

“Well, Anna, he was absent a lot.” You said without a second thought, thinking back to your childhood sadly. “But he tried his best. I think I get a lot of my outgoing nature from him. He’s really a role model for me.”

“And do you have the same goals and aspirations that he has for the company?”

You chuckled lightly at the question.

“Oh dear, oh no.” You said, like it was some preposterous question. “Honey, he is all about the money. I am nothing like that. I’m all about human connection.”

Anna seemed pleased by this. Her eyes lit up and she hurriedly went to write down notes.

“You seem like such a nice, down to Earth, person, Y/N, how do you get this mindset after being raised so...well, rich.”

“I’ve gotten used to a lot of luxury, yes, but this does not take away from the fact that my father was always strict on discipline. He put a huge emphasis on respecting others and respecting situations we cannot comprehend. It is a valuable lesson I take to heart.” You nodded seriously, your hands gently folded in your lap.

Anna was, once again, pleased by your answer. You seemed to be telling her the right things.

Soon enough, your face was on the cover of every newspaper. The rich heiress to Sinopec is here in New York City! Or Y/N Dong, the future of the wealthy and elite.

You could bathe in the attention all day. In fact, you bought about 15 copies of the story and spread them around your apartment. You meticulously cut out each and every sentence that called you beautiful, complimented you, or even mentioned you and pasted them to the blank walls of your home. Even bad press was still press. After you were done with your hard work, you collapsed on the sofa.

“Knock knock!”

You jolted upright. You looked around your apartment. The curtains were drawn over the windows, just like they always were. You looked around. Your apartment was a mess.

The floor was littered with pieces of paper, the fridge stood open and there were expertly placed scissors just lying on the ground waiting to be stepped on. You blinked wearily. It was a disorientation akin to being hungover but not quite.

“Knock knock?”

Your neck almost snapped with how hard you looked at the door. Shit. You immediately stood up, groaning in pain as you ripped your hand from the couch. You had somehow managed to glue your fingers to the fabric and it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

You started madly sweeping the paper, quite literally, under the rug. Then you threw open your windows and were reminded of why you kept them closed. They faced a brick wall. A lovely sight to see.

You frowned, but rubbed your eyes and carried on in your cleaning frenzy nonetheless. The knocks sounded once more and you finally answered.

“One sec-” You cleared your gruff voice. “One second!”

You tripped over the coffee table and you withheld a scream of frustration. Instead you threw your hands up in anger and let out a silent shout.

“Everything alright in there?”

“Yup! Just- give me- a moment-” You held your stubbed toe and every curse you knew flew through your head.

You then ran to the mirror and quickly brushed through your hair. Finally, you made it to the front door, looking as presentable as possible.

When you opened the door, two familiar people shoved their way in.

“Ah, this place is smaller than I expected.” Heather announced, setting down a gift bag, Jimin entered after her with a shy smile. His face conveyed Heather’s words.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s only temporary. I used to live down at Wall Street but then there was a pipe problem with my neighbor and you know...water damage is a real problem.” You clicked your tongue unhappily and they nodded sympathetically.

“That’s completely understandable.” Heather said, moving to get a closer look at your walls. “Interesting decorations.”

“I like words of affirmation to hang around my apartment. It helps build self confidence.”

“Looks like you already have enough of that from the article I read.” Jimin chuckled, fingers brushing over a sentence plastered on the wall.

“Oh, you read that?” Your cheeks heated up. “It was nothing, really.”

“You’re practically everywhere, Y/N.” Heather pointed out. “It’s like knowing a celebrity.”

“But I’m no celebrity.” You said humbly. “I’m just a normal person.”

“My normal person.”

Possession. It was a common theme in your growing relationship with Jimin. You quite liked it. Your heart would always thump. A smile grew on your face and you gave him a quick kiss, one he returned gladly.

“You guys are disgusting. Get a room.” Heather huffed. “Anyway,” She turned and grabbed a gift bag as you and Jimin parted. “I’ve got this gift for you. Call it a congratulations for being on your first ever cover. I was only 15 when I was on mine, but whatever.”

“You didn’t have to.” You exclaimed, but happily took the gift. You threw out the tissue paper like an animal. “Oh! Earrings! I love them!” You exclaimed, surveying the expensive earrings. You assumed they must be at least $30,000.

“Well, it’s just a little thing. Also, I forgot to mention it, my birthday party is next week and I’d love for you to come! I’ll send you the invites!” Heather interlaced your fingers with hers and you shot her a wry smile.

“Of course, we’ll be there.” Jimin answered for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Oh! I forgot to ask, has your father seen your article?” Heather inquired, it was a simple ask, one that had you twisting your hands nervously.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure he has.” You said softly. “But he’s very busy as you know, so he just hasn't gotten in touch yet!” You assured her and when she nodded, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You didn’t want to know much about Jimin besides his family, his money, and how he looked. You just wanted him to be yours.

Jealousy. Yeah, that was definitely the green monster, as green as a freshly mowed lawn at bucking-fucking-ham palace. This feeling in your stomach was definitely jealousy. You told yourself you couldn’t feel jealous of Heather.

Heather even explicitly said she’d never fall in love with Park Jimin, but that was a real trick, a trap, because everyone fell for Park Jimin. There was something about the way she held onto his arm that had you transfixed, how she casually brushed his side when reaching for something.

You were seeing green and red. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her fucking hand for one second, even when other people were trying to get your attention. The party was high caliber, celebrating the birthday of said woman. But you could care less that it was her birthday, that man was yours.

You were like a predator, stalking the perimeter before swooping in for the kill. You puffed out your chest and walked straight into their little conversation.

“Jimin, Heather.” You greeted them with a warm smile, but inside you were screaming. It was a primal urge.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you could make it!” Heather pulled you in for a hug and you both balanced your champagne in one hand while doing the awkward one armed move. “Jimin and I were just discussing the latest actions of the Audre Lorde Project.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” You smiled slyly, all teeth and no glimmer of joy in your eyes to be found. “I just wanted to personally deliver my gift to you.” You thrust out the package.

“Oh no no, you don’t have to! Besides, if you do, then suddenly everyone will want to come over and I just want to talk to you guys for now.” She lowered her voice and smirked.

You nodded, though your fingers clenched around the handles tightly. You trudged over to the gift table and haphazardly threw the bag among the other gifts.

It wasn’t anything special, just the ring you had gotten from Astteria. You had wanted to get rid of that old thing anyway. You glanced at the two, still talking. You gritted your teeth and stormed away to the bathroom.

You and Jimin did many things together. You learned his favorite color, his mother’s name and her favorite song, you learned about his life, his backstory. However, your favorite thing to do with Jimin was to make out.

Now, this might seem shallow, but making out with Jimin was like heaven on Earth. He knew how to move his lips, touch just the right spots, to get you melting.

He was the sun in a New York City heatwave and you were a popsicle melting below. It was truly a sight to behold, although Heather would disagree. As your hands would play a game of untying ties with his suit, your mind played a different game, a far more deadly one.

“I love you.” You reeled him in. He followed you like a moth to a light. “I love you a lot.” You declared and he simply fell away under your grasp.

You had always enjoyed the sight of people falling beneath you as you stripped away their exteriors to find what made them tick.

“You’re mine, Jimin, all mine.” You breathed heavily, gasping for breath as he moved to your neck.

He made quick work of the clean skin, littering it with purple marks, delicately crafted by his skilled lips. His teeth grazed your ear, making you suck in a breath. Your, his, rolex watch pressed into his warm skin.

“Tell me, Jimin, tell me you’re mine.” You said desperately and he groaned in delight.

“I love it when you talk to me like that.” He peppered kisses along your jawline. “I love that sound, begging for me like a dog.” He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer, but you didn’t mind. “I’m yours, baby, but only if you’re mine.”

“I’m all yours.” And he dove back to your lips like an animal.

“I’m madly in love with you, Y/N.” He murmured. “And you’re all mine.”

It was a perfect fairytale, but all fairytales need a villain.

I have no idea who this woman is, posing as my daughter. She is an imposter for sure, or delusional. The subtitles on the T.V. read as you flipped through the article that just landed outside your door.

You seethed, feeling your heart sink as one by one, the article undid your many lies. You almost wanted this destruction, because with it came release.

The release of pressure on your chest, from the weight of all these lies. They were carefully built, framing you in the perfect light, but you didn’t want everything to be undone.

“What’s going on?” He picked up the phone. Your hands were shaking. “Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I-I...don’t read the news, meet me outside my apartment door.” You said quickly, your voice quivering. You heard him roll out of bed.

“Okay. I’ll be right there.”

You sent the same sentiments to Heather. You needed to explain this before they found out. You needed Jimin to understand your side of the story. Jimin was yours. No one else should have him. Ever since you’d set your eyes on him, you had known he was to be your newest obsession.

“Y/N?!” Heather’s screeching voice echoed up the stairs and you knew it was too late for her.

“I know what you think about me, Y/N, but I don’t feel the need to flaunt my riches. I may seem like a real stupid bitch, but I’m not.” Heather snapped, slapping the newspaper down in front of you while you waited with Jimin. He picked up the paper before you could stop him.

“Y/N? Is this true?” He asked cautiously, his eyes scanning the page.

“Y/N? How could you?”

“Y/N?” Y/N Y/N Y/N. The chant was dizzying. Everyone wanted a piece of you, damn it.

“Shut up! Shut up!” You cried, breathless.

They both stopped. Heather’s eyes were pure anger, but Jimin looked confused, lost. He abruptly stood and you went along with him. Heather turned on her heel, storming out.

“Don’t talk to me again, freak.” Heather said, her words bitter as she exited into the cold morning air. Mornings were always cold it seemed.

“How many things have you lied about? Are you even Y/N? Is that even your name?!” He questioned, the buzz of anger growing.

“I can’t...I can’t tell you that.” And you couldn’t. You’d lost track a long time ago.

“Jimin! Jimin please! Wait!” You grasped his hand desperately. He turned around furiously, sharply.

“What do you want? You wore your little disguise so well and I, like a fool, fell for it.” His voice cracked.

“I know I’ve lied about-about a lot of t-things, but I know one thing that’s the truth,” You pleaded. “I love you.”

His gaze hardened. “How do I know that’s not a lie?”

And you couldn’t tell him that either.

A pathological liar. Your mother would have been heartbroken by the label placed upon her precious daughter. You would have been offended as well if it weren’t for the objective truth.

Even when Columbia University expelled you for not only lying about grades and extracurriculars, but also just for being an awful person as they tried to lightly put it, everything still hadn’t hit home.

You were beautiful, fit for a queen. It was such a shame, then, when people also found out that you had no money. It made you hungry for the stuff. Now, the trick was to make sure they didn’t find that out.

Your mother had always been a good woman, but your father had easily gambled away all the money saved. Perhaps you got this carefree, flamboyant personality from him?

A narcissist. Not what you had expected as a new label either, but if it was in the papers, it must be true. In the end, all your little escapades had gotten you in a lot of debt, but the banks had just kept loaning you money. You had no idea why. Maybe it was like Jimin said, you had worn your disguise so well.

“Wow, a narcissist, huh?” You studied yourself in the mirror.

Your apartment was always dark, but you felt a particular chill today. You spoke to yourself, everyone else having had abandoned you.

“I don’t think that’s right.” You argued back to no one. “I’m...Y/N...the daughter of Zhao Dong. that’s me.” You said over and over, but you were no longer convinced and deep down you knew it was all a sham, a lie.

One thing had built on another and another until all the lies piled up and you could no longer dig yourself out. Your head was often spinning trying to remember everything everyone had ever told you.

But the thing was, at a certain point, it had no longer been a fib, a disguise. You had become Y/N, the daughter of Sinopec’s chairman Zhao Dong. At a certain point, you had become someone else, and that was all you had ever wanted.

Then you started laughing uncontrollably before sweeping your arm across the counter, sending various beauty products tumbling to the floor. Your body shook.

“No, no, no. It was all a lie.” You giggled. “It was just a lie, you’re just Y/N Y/L/N from a goddamn backwater town.” You slapped your cheeks, hard, as if that could erase all that was done.

It seemed that you were the villain of this fairytale, but you couldn’t quite believe it. As you looked in the mirror, the darkness of the bathroom slowly closing in around you, you could see yourself clearly.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were the evil queen and there was no snow white, just you and your shitty castle. And you were alone. Not even Jimin wanted a thing to do with you, having called your reckless actions disgusting. You had assured him you weren’t a psychopath.

You remembered the conversation on the phone after calling him several times.

“I’m sorry, how can I make it up to you?” You had asked. He had simply laughed bitterly and shifted his phone .

“You’ve already stolen everything from me, Y/N, and I fully intend to take back most of it, but you can keep the watch.” and then he hung up.

1 A.M. wake up.

Obsess over what you were going to do for the day. Fall back asleep.

3 A.M.

Get out of bed.

make yourself a cup of coffee and stare in the mirror for a while.

5 A.M.

Take a deep breath.

Start your day.

You didn’t have a home to return to. You didn’t have anyone who loved you and you most certainly didn’t have a reputation. With your face staining every front page of a newspaper, you had nowhere to hide, but you were just one person. You needed some fresh air, and where to best do that except at the top of the Empire State Building?

You were surprised to brush past Jimin on the way up to the top floor, but you should have guessed. You supposed his mother worked there. Either way, he followed you, asking if anything was wrong. Like a fucking psychopath.

“STOP!” You cried, turning to him as you reached the top floor. There had to be roof access somewhere up here.

“I want to know if you’re okay?” His eyes were kind and you were reminded of how everything had been before.

But you had already hurt each other, the past was past, there was only forward in this meaningless space of nothing.

“Haven’t I hurt you enough?!” You shouted, tears finally making their way down your face.

He pulled you back as you started to search the top floor, which was deserted save for two workers filing out for the night.

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered.

His eyes were furious, a volcano, a matchstick ready to ignite. It caught you off guard.

“Because, even though I hate you right now with every bone in my goddamn body, I would stop you from doing something stupid, like what I think you’re about to do, over and over again. No matter what.” He stopped, words stuttering, jawline clenching as he searched for the words.

“And maybe that’s what makes me the fool.”

He stepped back into the elevator and the doors slowly closed. You couldn’t bring yourself to join him, simply standing in shock at his declaration. And then he was gone. You saw him once more at a club with Heather on his arm, and after that, you never saw him again.

You would sometimes think you saw him; the flash of his silver hair, his figure ducking into a shop, the smell of him when you woke up, the taste of strawberry on your lips but he was never there. You didn’t need the money anymore. You realized...you had just wanted him.

Loving him was electrifying, like a hurricane at times and calm waters at others. You were a train on its way to be wrecked, and you had finally...run off the rails.

Fin

Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine Cashmere, cologne and hot sunshine Red racing cars, sunset and vine And we were young and pretty

Taglist: @thereaderstea , @sadboibts, @ditttiii

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themadauthorshatter · 3 years

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OH MY, GOODNESS!

RED SCHOOL UA HEADCANONS/STORY!

Sorry for not picking this up earlier. This part we are focusing on Arc 2: where the RQ cast meets the SGE cast.

Sophie is über excited at meeting the crown prince, but Agatha is less enthused because she's a realist and doesn't know HOW the RQ crew is getting over to the SGE.

Tedros and his friends are ecstatic they're meeting the Nortan princes. They even wonder if there are more than just Cal and Maven.

The students are all on the hot topic of Nortans visiting, though Agatha is pulled aside by Hester, Dot and Anadil, who all express their anger and impatience at Sophie, who won't shut up about Cal in particular, even though he's betrothed. Agatha assures them everything will be fine when Sophie sees that Cal and Evangeline are an item. (Yeah right. Marecal all the way.)

In Norta, it's rumor city among the Silvers, who aren't exactly looking forward to entertaining a bunch of school children.

Our main three in Norta are talking about their upcoming excursion to the school in the Endless Woods, Cal being apprehensive to leave Norta practically unguarded for an unspecified amount of time, but excited at the idea of seeing new lands, Maven just not wanting to go because it seems like a waste of time, effort, and resources, and Mare not exactly sharing her thoughts because she'll be even further away from her family than before.

Evangeline is not amused. At all. She's just playing along until they get back and never have to deal with the students of the School for Good and Evil again.

Regardless, they don't know what could be there, so they need to make sure they're not potentially making any new enemies by this complete accident on Tibe's part. Or, that's his thought process at least. And he's only told Cal this information, as, from what he can tell, the SGE isn't Red and Silver and instead use magic, a concept only found in fairytales. With an entire school of teenage witches and wizards and warlocks, and maybe a dragon or two, assuming this place is prestigious and in the higher end, it's better to make an ally rather than an enemy. And the idea of warring aginst school children does not sit well with Cal.

In training later, though, Maven and Mare see that Cal is absolutely faking his excitement at least a little bit, like 58% faking it. It shows when Arven pits him against Evangeline, Sonya, and Elane.

He ends up nearly burning all three of them alive, lost in wanting to get the fight and group training over with so he can be alone and think his thoughts.

Silly, Cal. Maven is paying attention, and asks what's wrong.

Cal brushes it off and says everything's fine, but Mare and Maven know better, Mare having seen what liars look like and Maven knowing Cal for all his life.

Cal tries to a go about his day and ignore whatever he's thinking, which is difficult to do because Maven's following him. He turns and Maven stops, simply explaining that he's going the same way as Cal. They continue walking, but Cal notices that Maven's not really going anywhere, content to follow his bother. This results in a chase between the two of them, Cal jogying before speinting to shake Maven off his tail, succeeding when he loses Maven down a hall, as in he ran down the hall partially before hiding behind a wall and watching Maven sprint right past him.

Maven only realizes he got played when he can't hear Cal anymore.

He and Cal don't meet up for the night.

He talks about this with Mare, and brings up that Cal's avoiding him.

TV/Graphic novel perspective, over time we see Cal get followed by both Maven and Mare, though over this time Cal grows more agitated and looks more annoyed and tired as they continue to try to see what's wrong with him. Maybe we even get a gag of both Mare and Maven spying on Cal from behind a wall, hiding behind it when he looks over his shoulder, and then continue their spying when he looks back, confused, annoyed, and agitated.

After a week, Cal catches Mare and pulls her into a room before leaving and telling her to wait for him.

He returns with Maven, who's over his shoulder, trying to remain calm, because Cal's stronger and bigger than him, and even tries, in mild panic, to negotiating to not beat him to a pulp, because Cal looks ready to murder them both.

He sets Maven on his feet and tells them both very bluntly to stop following him; not only is it freaking him out, but his soldier instincys are going haywire and he will not heistate to attack them both, which he doesn't want to do because it won't end well.

Mare and Maven apologize, but, being concerned despite herself, Mare asks Cal what his problem is, seeing as how he's avoiding both her and Maven.

Cal gives them a tired look and takes a breath. "Fine."

CUT THE THE SGE!

Tedros, Tristan, and Chaddick are hanging out together away from the Evergirls, though Chaddick does admit that the girls are looking nice today(16 year old hormones, am I right?)

Tedros isn't listening, balancing his sword on his fingertips.

Tristan, arguably the most feel-y of the three, wonders if or when the Silvers will arrive.

Tedros doubts they will, but one can hope.

This turn if pessimism confuses both Tristan and Chaddick, and Tedros happily explains:

They're all just students. What would royals and nobles want with a bunch of schoolchildren? They don't even have magic, don't believe in it, don't know it, just don't have any magic. The closest thing they have to magic is their silver blood, and not even THAT is magic because of how limited it is.

That, and Sophie and the Nevers will probably drive them all away.

Speaking if Nevers, Chaddick admits how weird it is to see them getting showered and clean, presentable in case the Silvers arrive as a surprise visit.

It is odd, but it's in their best interest to play nice with everyone, and that unfortunately includes a very babbly, and planning-to-be-flirty Sophie.

Speak of the devil, Sophie emerges from the trees to find the trio, specifically Tedros, who she wants to talk to.

He leaves, lying that he has some homework to do.

He's really going to find Agatha, who's reading to pass time and get her mind off all the gossip.

They have a rocky conversation about the current events and even wonder what silver blood would even look like, if they ever get the morbid chance to see it.

Agatha asks why he's talking to her and Tedros sighs that he just wants to avoid Sophie, but also wants to be around someone who's smart.

She smiles and asks if he thinks she's smart, sort of silently teasing him as he stammers and tries to come up with a save for the tongue-slip.

He spots Nicholas behind her instead, eyes wide and red as he raises an axe over his head, aiming for her.

Tedros, thinking quickly, tackles him and throws the axe away, which knocks Nicholas out of his daze.

Tedros shouts at him, "What the hell was that?" but Nicholas only looks around, very confused as to how he got into the trees or even got hold of an AXE.

There's confusion all around as Nicholas stumbles away towards some friends, muttering about a headache he now has and how sore he now feels.

Agatha and Tedros only exchange glances, worried and confused.

Was it a curse? A hex? A spell? And how did he get a weapon from the Doom Room?

CUT BACK TO NORTA AS CAL HAS JUST FINISHED SPILLING THE TEA! All three are sitting in a triangle on the floor, because it's close to night time and, because I'm a sucker for parallels in a story, to establish that despite the age differences between them and the students, and the experiences Cal and Maven had on the war front, they're still kids too.

Mare fights the urge to dry heave and Maven only hums at how Tibe is actually paranoid enough to consider war against a bunch of kids.

Cal admits that, yes it is ridiculous, but he's still unnerved. It doesn't help that they're dealing with people who have magic, which is stronger than Silver powers, even Mare's lightning is possibly no match; magic is all encompassing while their powers are limited to one "element."

Mare, in an attempt to alleviate the atmosphere, wonders if everyone will even BELIEVE what Norta says about these kids, as magic doesn't exist in their world.

Cal admits he does not believe in magic. It's not that he's heartless, he's just seen too much to know better. As much as he'd like to, he knows that it's nothing but slight of hand and tricks to fool the other person.

Maven agrees, except he's known because of Elara, but he gives them an explanation closer to what Cal said, only changing that he saw a magic show and saw how the tricks were done to fool the crowd.

When they ask her, Mare admits that if she believed in magic, and if it was real, it would have made things different for her and her family, she also inwardly admits that she'd make things different for all Reds as well.

After a moment of silence between them, Maven asks Cal if he's heard anything about them leaving and visiting these endless woods, and Cal shrugs, sighing that it's all speculation and in the air. If they do go, it will be both brothers and their betrotheds, Elara, Tiberias, a few other High House children(Elane, Sonya, Olliver, and Ptolemus), and a few guards, one of them being Lucas. Volo Samos and the rest of Tibe's council will stay behind to keep Norta in shape while they voyage to the School, stay for a little bit, and then come back, assuming things go okay and don't take long.

WE ALL KNOW NOTHING EVER GOES RIGHT IN STORIES😈

Either way, they all take a breath and leave the room together, Mare hoping Lady Blonos doesn't scold her for being alone with both princes. Cal tells her not worry because they'll cover for her, saying they had a bet and Cal won. Maven mutters, "By default," and he and Mare jog away as Cal chases them, yelling that they'd better explain what that means before he gets his hands on them both.

TIME JUMP/FADE TO THE DAY THE NORTANS LEAVE FOR THE ENDLESS WOODS, THE FADE HAPPENING WITH A PAN TO A WINDOW AND THEN GLIDE DOWN TO THE DOCK!!!

Mare sighs up at the ship before boarding, noting a very anxious Cal looking over the walkway as he himself walks aboard, Evangeline striding ahead of him.

Maven chuckles that Cal's always been a scaredy cat around water, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

Mare admits that while Cal is acting like a child, it's actually a smart move to know yoursl own limits and weaknesses.

From his place higher on the ship, Tibe gives Mare a, "Well said, Lady Mareena," and admits he may have underestimated her ability as a strategist. Maybe her time around Cal and the other High House children is rubbing off on her.

Mare fakes a thank you and notices Maven looking away.

I have not forgotten how Tibe isn't as loving as Maven; no amount of tragedy is going to negate neglect.

Mare tries to back up the now crestfallen Maven, but Elara calls for her son, asking to speak with him alone, mother to son.

He agrees and walks off to meet her, looking back at Mare before he does.

Tibe watches them walk off, and we get a glare off between him and Elara before the Queen leaves to speak with her favorite son.

Once they're gone, Mare asks how he can stand a bitch like Elara. She gets they were arranged to marry, but two people cannot hate each other that much.

For context, Mare's been here for about 4 months. She's visited her family only twice and has had a lot of time with Silvers and dealing with Tibe, Elara, Evangeline, and anyone who isn't Cal, Maven, and Lucas.

Back on track, Tibe semi-scolds her that, as a lady of the court, she should know better than to be mouthy towards him.

Mare, kind of fed up with his BS, folds her arms and counters that as a princess and his future daughter-in-law, they should be comfortable with each other enough for her to ask such a question.

Tibe gestures for her to come closer and she approaches, close enough for Tibe to sneer at her that if she thinks he's letting Maven, his son, his boy, marry a Red rat like her, she's more of a fool than all of the Scarlet Guard put together.

Lost in her anger, Mare asks which he's more afraid of: Telling Mare the truth or having his court, and the rest of Norta, Red and Silver, find out their secret.

With a glare down, Tibe congratulates her on how she's picked up verbal combat, and that she's a good learner. He then admits that the two of them aren't very different.

It offends Mare DEEPLY and she asks what that means as Tibe begins walking away.

Another bit of context, there are two sets of stairs to the upper level of the ship, a left and a right. In a fun bit of camera work/detail for anyone paying attention. Mare would walk up the right hand stairs to meet Tibe and, when he walks down the stairs, he walks down the left hand stairs and Mare follows him, the two walking back to the deck, so Mare basically walked around in a big circle. Just a cool thing I'd add, maybe it'd be symbolic of her situation or of some kind of cycle, I don't know. If you have any ideas, feel free to tell me.

Back to the story, Tibe explains to Mare that they're trapped by who they must marry, or have married in Tibe's case.

Another small detail, on the upper level, Mare would be on the left hand side of the screen/panel and Tibe would be on the right, but on the deck they're sides change, Tibe being in the left and Mare being on the right.

I'm a sucker for small details, so sue me!

Back on track for reals, Mare's VERY confused because she thought princes, or kings, could choose who they could marry. Tibe agrees that, yes, that usually is the case, but the reason he couldn't really choose was because there weren't anymore Queenstrial participants for him to choose from.

"But you have two sons?" Mare ponders.

Tibe shakes his head and asks if she REALLY thinks ending an alliance with Volo Samos of The Rift is a good idea, based on what she's seen from his daughter, Evangeline, half-joking that he's glad Cal is her betrothed and a simple friend of Ptolemus, who's shown how much of a berserker he is. (Yes the Scarlet Guard attack on the Summer palace still occurs.)

Mare asks what he'd do if that was the case, and Tibe chuckles, saying he'd renounce the throne and give it to Maven instead.

The two only chuckle, not comfortable enough with each other to fully laugh, and then Tibe admits that while he isn't sorry for needing to keep Mare a secret, he is sorry that she's alone, and forced into a life she never wanted.

"If you're so sorry, then why not let me go home?"

"Lady Mareena, the high houses would end us both."

For once, Mare can't really tell if he's lying or not, but doesn't get a chance to ask as Tibe returns to the top deck, Cal walking around the desk to Mare. He notices that his father is walking away from her and she looks a little distraught and very confused.

Cal looks between them and asks what happened and Mare simply answers that she and his father were just having a talk before leaving to her room/cabin

It's going to be a long ride to the Endless Woods

This is Part 1 of Arc 2, they do say the second act is the longest.

Keep your eye out for Arc 2, Part 2, because THAT is where things pick up even more

Anyway, Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!!!!

#red queen #school for good and evil #red school #ua #au #mare barrow #maven calore #tiberias calore vii #cal calore #elara merandus #tiberias calore vi #tedros of camelot #spohie of woods beyond #agatha of woods beyond #sge tedros #sge agatha #sge sophie #evangeline samos

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notalotgoingonatthisinstant · 3 years

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Turning on the Right Street

Juke Sunday bliss, as I usually seem to bring, only this time a bit more angsty than usual.

Find it on AO3 or read on ahead!

Rating: T.

Word count: 2111.

Summary: Her phantoms were backed against a wall again, only this time they had a plan. They had a chance. Said plan would either erase them from existence or bring them back to the land of the living. It really could go either way in the next 24 hours. So, after a charged day with them, Julie retires to her room with Luke, to soak in each other's presence for what could be the last time. Only neither one of them is emotionally stable to keep up with their unspoken rule of not speaking out their feelings, and close is never close enough when she's about to potentially lose her soulmate.

The cliché saying about the stars in someone’s eyes had never hit as close to home as right now. Julie didn’t know how it was possible, because it was past eleven, all her bedroom’s lights were out, and the shades were draped over the windows. By all means, she shouldn’t be able to make out the stars in Luke’s eyes so easily, but there they were. Shining for her.

The silence between them was charged, even if their nerves had calmed down a little over the past hour that they had spent there. It had been a day full of uncomfortable flutters in her stomach, skipping beats of her heart, and many tears, even though she was trying to be strong for her boys. Her boys, who were backed up against a wall again, only this time they had enough information to come up with an insane plan.

Said plan would either erase them from existence or bring them back to the land of the living. It really could go either way in the next 24 hours.

Her body shuttered with another shaky breath, and Luke’s hand flexed on hers as he shushed her. “Please don’t cry.”

“I could tell you the same.” Because now Julie knew why she could see stars in his eyes in the dark, and it was due to his own unshed tears.

Luke squeezed her hands again in their place between their necks, his head on the pillow next to her, so close that she couldn’t quite get her eyes to focus on his features.

Another long moment of silence where they just took each other in. Her left arm was going numb from lying on it for an hour, but she still didn’t move or let go of his hands. Her knees brushed the top of his under the covers, sliding over of his thighs in her attempt to get closer.

He moved his right hand, still intertwined with hers, and touched his fingers to the small patch of her cheek not blocked by the pillow. When he spoke, his voice was a little more than a whisper, soft and open like it had been all evening. “Can I tell you something?”

Instantly, her eyes welled up again, her throat constricting. “It’ll make me cry.”

“Probably.”

“I thought we’d agreed…”

Long ago, they had silently agreed. They didn’t deny the connection and the attraction, but they were realistic. They had kept their relationship unlabeled and limited – songwriting sessions, cuddling, casual touches, kisses on cheeks, foreheads, hands, but never lips. Never anything that would start crossing the line they knew they wouldn’t have the strength to come back from.

Never hands on thighs for too long, not after Julie had felt the muscles there and the intimacy that came with keeping her hand there during band meeting. It had hurt more to pull away than to keep herself from doing it again.

Never hugging her from behind with a kiss to the neck, not after Luke hadn’t been able to stop kissing her neck and pressing his body to her until they were breathless. It had been harder to restrain themselves from chasing that feeling again once they had a taste of it.

Never using pet names, not after Luke’s C’mon, baby, just one more time, encouraging her to play their newest song again, and Julie’s Honey, that’s not– Here, teaching him piano. It had felt too intimate, too domestic, too right. It had felt like labeling it, and they couldn’t handle that.

Never purposeful sleepovers (accidental ones had happened). Never hands lingering on each other’s faces (more than once a week). Never writing too cheesy of a love song (explicitly).

Never actually putting their feelings into words.

“I know,” Luke said. “But all we’ve got is right now, and I don’t wanna leave things unsaid. Not again, and especially not with you.”

It felt like a stab to her heart, the reminder that he might be gone for good tomorrow. A stab with a thick, burning hot blade, with thorns on the sides that ripped her chest open fragment by fragment, inch by inch.

In spite of her pain, the side of Luke’s mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. “Remember the first time you walked through me? In your kitchen?”

“When you gave me Bright.”

Her instant and sure answer seemed to build his confidence, although it dimmed again two seconds later. His left thumb ran over her hand anxiously. She felt like he might avert his eyes, but neither of them was willing to do that.

“It might be stupid,” Luke started, “and you can call me crazy – Shit, I’ve been calling myself crazy over this for months. But I felt something. When you walked through me. It was like…” He scrunched up his face in thought. “It’s not déjà vu, exactly. But it felt like… not like I knew you already, but like – like I knew that I needed to get to know you, because there was something there. It felt like… like I was close to coming home. Like I had turned on the right street and home was still out of sight, but two blocks away, and all I needed to do was… keep going.”

And maybe he was going to say more, but Julie felt his burning need to get his meaning across and his frustration at stumbling over words and analogies, when she already knew what he was talking about.

“Me too,” she whispered in the air between them. “Like turning on the right street.”

That only seemed to cement something in him, and he grew a bit more agitated. For the past hour that they had lain there, side by side in the dark, his usual electric energy had dimmed to soft strokes and unwavering gazes. Now, it was picking up again, although still contained to their peaceful bubble.

Luke continued, “I don’t know if it’s a thing, but the universe’s insane enough that I don’t doubt it. I can’t explain most of the shit that’s happened to me, especially when it comes to you. The impossible odds of meeting you. The connection. The…” he faltered for a moment, swallowing dry. Words floated around the tip of his tongue, never forming in any way that she could understand.

Then something in his eyes changed. His demeanor changed. Julie’s heart beat out of her chest at the intensity she found in his gaze, his hand squeezing hers as if to ground himself, and she knew something was coming. That was him dropping the pretense completely.

With a shaky exhale, which relaxed his suddenly tense muscles, and a surrendering, one-shoulder shrug, Luke said, “You’re my soulmate, Jules. There isn’t anyone else who’s a better match for me, and my soul doesn’t want anyone else.”

The stars in his eyes burned brighter, either from his confession or from more unshed tears, and Julie scooted forward until their foreheads were almost touching. With a slight turn of her head, she kissed his fingers that had been brushing her cheek all this time, noticing how much they trembled, and connected their gazes again. “I don’t think it’s crazy.”

Julie couldn’t fault him for the unshed tears or the trembling hands, because she was right there with him. Oversensitive emotions that were ready to burst at the slightest touch of his fingers or words from his lips. It felt like they were standing together on a tightrope over an inconceivable cliff, and only she was wearing the security gear.

That mental image was a bit too much for her, and suddenly the panic was back. She had been fighting with all her might not to break down (too much) in the boys’ presence during the whole day, and now with Luke, because she didn’t want to spend their time together crying, but it felt overwhelming all of a sudden.

A fist squeezing her heart. A cold blade in her stomach. A sob in her throat.

“I love you,” slipped out of her, although she in no way regretted it.

At that, Luke squeezed his eyes shut. The fingers hovering near her mouth pushed their way under her cheek to cup it properly, and he gripped her hand, pulling it close to his chest. Julie moved again, scooting even closer, her knees bumping his, her now free hand over his shirt. It was unnerving how she couldn’t feel his breath on her face.

She nudged his nose with hers. “I love you.”

Luke curled in again, his hand on her cheek pulling her so their foreheads rested against one another, his nose slipping in next to hers – the closest their lips they had ever been.

Finally, he opened his eyes. “God, Julie. I love you. So much. You gotta know that.” He sounded nearly desperate.

“I know, I know,” she assured him, hand slipping from his grip to caress his cheek.

It was harder to keep the tears at bay now, with their words out in the open. It brought to the surface the feeling of unfairness, of why couldn’t we have met under normal circumstances, of I need to keep you with me. Because she needed him with her.

At her first sob, the roles reversed immediately, and Luke was the one shushing her and caressing her. While he stroked her left cheek and whispered sweet nothings into her right one, his left hand found her waist. His knees straightened out, allowing him to pull her by her hip into him. It still wasn’t enough. Julie didn’t know if anything would ever be enough. Tonight wasn’t, and maybe a lifetime still wouldn’t be. His hands on her, his lips against the corner of her mouth telling her he loved her… just not enough.

Julie threw away any embarrassment she might have had about their current position – about being in bed with him, under the covers, alone, behind closed doors – and released the reigns on her body that had held him at a figurative arms’ length away for far too long.

Instinctively, her leg draped over his. The hand on her hip squeezed, running down her backside naturally as if he had done that a hundred times before instead of it being the first time he touched her in a such an intimate way. As soon as it was over the swell, he put pressure on the back of her thigh and nudged her leg to hook on his waist. It allowed their abdomens to press together, bringing their chests with them. And it still wasn’t enough.

Their foreheads weren’t touching anymore – they had been forced apart by the angle their necks had been put in when the rest of their bodies met, so now her nose brushed his upper lip. Sobs still threatened to leave her throat in an attempt to hold together her breaking heart, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t thinking anymore. She just tilted an inch up at the same time that Luke tilted an inch down and their mouths met without any effort.

Luke’s hand slipped from her cheek, this time worming its way under her neck, fighting against her wild hair until it came up on the other side. Then his arm was under her as her new pillow and around her to kill any space between them. As he kissed her, he hugged her fully – arm around her shoulders and an arm around her waist, tense forearms crossing on her back. Julie held him with the same despair, arm around his shoulders and hand anchored on the back of his neck. Pulling closer.

She needed him closer.

It was only when Luke realized that she was gradually rolling him on top of her that he pulled a hair-width away. It made a smacking sound that the back of Julie’s head worried if her family had been able to hear.

“Jules…”

But she was already shaking her head. “I won’t be able to sleep. And I can’t go with you, so it doesn’t even matter. If we just stay here, we’re gonna talk, and I’m gonna cry. I don’t wanna spend this time I have with you crying, Luke. I’ll have time to cry later. I just want to…” Make up for all the times we didn’t allow ourselves to drown in this. “I just wanna let myself feel. I wanna let myself drown in you for once.”

The words hit home in his eyes, shining in the dark, and a breathless, incredulous chuckle left his lips. “God, please, universe, let me keep you.” And he dove back into her.

The line was officially and consciously crossed.

#juke #juke fic #julie molina #luke patterson #jukebox #jukebox fic #julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fic #my fics

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diavolosthots · 4 years

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Asks are open again!!! You had been talking about people summoning demons for fun and possibly endangering their life, plus being stupid so a scenario in which the MC summons the bois but has a more ~realistic and dangerous~ reaction of the demon bros to the summoning . Thanks!

Ask are NOT open. This is simply a request from before i closed them (I cant believe i have to say this)

My dude i have been HOLDING BACK ON THESE ASKS LIKE YOU DONT UNDERSTAND

warning: threats, minor violence

THE BROTHERS to being summoned

Lucifer:

He does not take kindly to being summoned and you better come up with a good explanation on the spot before he absolutely throws you against the wall and leaves again. If you summon him again, without reason at that, it will be much, much worse

Mammon:

Not really agitated, per se. But he will annoy you more than you annoyed him. He wont leave you alone that easily either, even when you WANT to get rid of him. This is his way of assuring you that you won't call him for nonesense again

Leviathan:

He will, quite literally, growl and lash his tail out at you. How DARE you take him away from an important game, or whatever he was doing. He will yell, and his tail will cut, and there's nothing you can do.

Satan:

Hes beyond angered. Why would you EVER need to summon him!? He made this pact as a sign of trust, not for you to abuse it as you please. There might be some minor smashing, probably his fist against the wall. Really, he wants to smash your face, but he wont.

Asmodeus:

You can feel the anger before you even saw him. Demons arent your booty call, although he likes to think you are his. Unless you are in a life and death situation, dont summon him! He's more calm in the sense that there are just a lot of words and passive aggressive yells.

Beelzebub:

Stomps his foot almost like an angry child. You better have something to make this worth his while or YOU end up being eaten instead, and believe me, he has no problem doing that. Dont summon him.

Belphegor:

He won't even bother waking up for you. The house is on fire? Great. He'll burn in your bed, nothing he hasnt done before. The minute you summon him, especially for something ridiculous, is the minute youre left on your own. Should've called instead.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #asmodeus obey me #obey me lucifer #belphegor obey me #leviathan obey me #mammon obey me #satan obey me #beelzebub obey me

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galacticnova3 · 3 years

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Thoughts on which Kirby villain the fandom sucks most at characterizing in your onion

Believe me if I had the energy to rant I would absolutely write you a fucking essay on how the fandom has bastardized Marx as a character, but I don’t and it’s past midnight. So you will get bullet points instead. I’ll admit I’m biased because I’ve been harassed by Marx fans in the past on here, but no I won’t apologize for my opinions <3

•Marx isn’t just a silly little crime boy, he literally tricked the sun and moon into fighting and manipulated Kirby into summoning Nova. Like that’s LITERALLY the plot of Milky Way Wishes, you can’t just ignore that and act like you’re writing Marx.

•Also worth mentioning: given how important sleep is in Dreamland, the big issue of fucking up the day-night cycle is also heavily underplayed by the majority of the fandom. Since it’s implied he lived there, this very much could have been intentional! It’d certainly make taking over easier if everyone who could resist were weakened/sleep deprived, wouldn’t it?

•Marx caused Nova’s death, temporary or not. “Well technically Kirby is the one who sent him fl–“ yeah and why was Kirby fighting Marx in the first place, huh? And who was the one who put Kirby in the position to fight Nova, huh!? Literally no matter how you look at it it’s Marx’s fault.

•Marx also tried to kill Kirby. Twice, if you count Marx Soul. I don’t think I need to elaborate on why this is an issue, but at the same time I just might considering the number of people who ship them for some reason? Which, like, fucking yikes, I don’t care what you come up with to explain it, you shouldn’t put someone in a relationship with someone who manipulated and later attempted to kill them! Refer to the first point for why you can’t just ignore that!

•His goal of ruling Popstar was guaranteed not a spur of the moment or power-tripping driven thing. Whereas Magolor is a bit more ambiguous– he definitely had been plotting his betrayal from the beginning, that much is certain, but it’s heavily implied he was not in control after putting on the Master Crown, perhaps meaning he wasn’t originally looking for universal domination– Marx very openly brags about how his plan worked, and does so AFTER his wish is granted. This means, unlike in Magolor’s case where wanting to rule could very possibly have been caused by the Master Crown, Marx very much intended Popstar’s domination from the start.

•A big thing that I never see addressed by the people who stan Marx but despise Magolor: MARX NEVER EVEN FUCKING APOLOGIZED FOR ANY OF IT. MARX HAS NOT SHOWN AN OUNCE OF REGRET FOR HIS ACTIONS. “He helped in Star Allies–“ YEAH AND DID YOU EVER LOOK AT WHY? BECAUSE THERE WAS FOOD IN IT FOR HIM. IN THE JAPANESE VERSION ITS BECAUSE OF SAFETY IN NUMBERS. He did not help out of the kindness of his own heart, or because it was right, he was in it solely for his own benefit.

•Basically just... a ton of my hatred of fanon Marx is because of the hypocrisy the fandom shows when it comes to Magolor. Magolor didn’t just apologize, he built at least two entire theme parks on top of his apology. While that obviously doesn’t undo what he did, nor mean he has to be forgiven by anyone, it is still absolutely better than the solid nothing Marx has given. That alone is enough to show that, realistically, Marx is the worse of the two, not Magolor, because at least Magolor has shown he regrets his actions. I wouldn’t put it past Marx to try again.

•Probably my least popular opinion here: I don’t like Marx’s design, and I never have. It’s not cute, but it isn’t scary either, or really all that creepy imo. It just annoys me, intentionally or not, and overall he has my least favorite Kirby final boss design. Yes I remember Dark Nebula exists, but at least Nebula has a nice color palette and a cool eye, even if the fight itself is underwhelming. Yes I also remember Dark Crafter exists, and he’s a very close second for least favorite final boss design! But at least his doesn’t outright agitate me, I just don’t like it because it wasn’t nearly as good as Drawcia’s. It’s the difference between outright disliking it vs just being disappointed. I’m not saying the design is bad, the design is great for a character like Marx! I just happen to hate Marx as well as not be a huge fan of that kind of look.

#ask to tag #ask #ask meme #rambling #I guess more like ranting in this case #literally the only thing I enjoy about him is his boss theme #but yea I hate fanon Marx so much it’s unreal!#especially when I’m then treated like shit for it #like oh I’m sooo sorry for not stanning *reads notecard* manipulative ass who attempted murder and planetary domination with no remorse #who also happens to have a design I’m not fond of

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graffitibible · 4 years

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how do killjoys treat raygun burns? i genuinely have no idea and i know you've already gone pretty in-depth with raygun wounds in general but i was curious about the treatment

cw: we’re gonna be talking about medical stuff and injuries in here. i’m not gonna include any graphic pictures and also i’m gonna warn anyone who wants to do further research that some of the images that’ll come up are gonna be pretty damn graphic. tread carefully!

SO i’m gonna be going off this ask here, and running with the assumption that raygun burns probably both bleed and burn. thats important since thats gonna affect how youd do treatment. it also means that raygun injuries are messy. most burn injuries in the real world can cauterize - theyre unique in that the site of injury is usually sterile at the time of injury. however, since the rayguns in this world are capable of making someone bleed (rather a lot too, if the comics are any indication), that means that these wounds can get pretty gnarly.

the important thing about how rayguns in danger days seem to work is that they are not pure laser bolts! if they were, they’d be able to pass through something and cauterize it pretty neatly, like a lightsaber. the raygun blasts have an obvious physical component - they can physically knock someone back, for example, and we see sparks shower when people are shot in the music videos. so rayguns in danger days have an apparent kinetic component to them: you are basically applying heat to the human body at high velocity.

ONCE AGAIN, THIS GOT LONG. THE REST IS UNDER A CUT. mind the content warnings above!!

other than that, we’re not sure what specifically the makeup of the lasers like...are. electromagnetic radiation? plasma? heat? electricity? i doubt its pure electricity since that would be more consistently fatal, but it is some kind of bolt that has both heat and velocity on its side to be sure, but thats the extent of what we know.

now logically, this would actually cause the human body to like. explode. cause thats what happens when you apply that much heat to something made of mostly water. getting hit with a bolt of something that hot would cause all that water to boil off abruptly and then the steam would fucking parboil you. not a fun way to go though it is funny that the steam would be the thing that causes the most damage. so yeah actually a very gory kind of injury.

obviously thats not what happens in danger days, since no one to my knowledge Fucking Explodes when theyre hit with a laser bolt. but lasers from rayguns can make blood FOUNTAIN OUT OF A DUDE’S GUT in the comics so obviously they can do a hell of a lot of damage (the mvs are way less explicit but they also werent allowed to like, swear in the mvs and had to tone down some of the violence and shit so im taking the comics canon as the more “realistic” one wrt rayguns here) the science here is kinda...eh, cause laser bolts don’t appear to be a penetrating injury but rather a messy “burn and blister” kind of injury that are nonetheless capable of making someone eat it pretty quick.

but this is danger days and this is kinda where science goes to die so here is how i view laser injuries in the universe:

danger days laser bolts have a kinetic or explosive quality to them.

what this means is that the injury is twofold: first, the heat damages the external layer of skin. i’d hazard that we’re talking second-to-third degree burn levels of injury on immediate contact. second, the kinetic energy released at that velocity and force generates an explosive impact that does damage to surrounding tissue.

what’s left is an injury that both burns and bleeds. my take on it is that the bolt impact creates the open wound, while the heat intensifies that damage and disseminates it. you need a temp of maybe 300ºF and higher to cauterize a wound so lasers would have to burn at least a little bit lower than that since the injuries do consistently bleed. but since the human body is pretty sensitive to high temperatures that works out in our favor seeing as if you heat things too much, again, the risk is that we would Fucking Explode.

lots of burn injuries, especially third degree and higher, tend to bleed. since thats the closest thing i have to compare to a laser wound in danger days, thats going to be my basis here.

treating a raygun injury is likely to resemble burn treatment in a lot of ways

burn treatment stuff varies a lot and i will spare you guys from googling this and going “oh thank you google images thank you for showing me what a graphic third degree burn looks like i am so glad that i know this and that this is in my search history and keeps popping up in my search history im SO GLAD.”

burn injuries go by degrees. first degree is like mild sunburn basically, and only affects the epidermis or external layer of skin. second degree affects the top and middle layers of skin and can leave blisters. third degree burns go all the way to the subcutaneous fat layer and can leave the skin white and charred. fourth degree burns can go through nerves and muscles and even down to the bone and can cause permanent damage that requires amputation. at fifth degree you have significant risk of organ injury and at sixth it’s basically like “fifth degree, but with the common side effect of Death.”

again im not linking to anything here because pretty much every information article you get on this stuff is gonna have some nice graphic images. so if you look this stuff up on your own do it at your own risk or have an image/media blocker extension ready if that kinda thing squicks you out

the main takeaway is that any burn from like the third degree downward can be very brutal and hard to heal over - they can cause swelling and severe scarring and the destruction of the epidermis and hair follicles means that new hair won’t grow. add to that the idea of raygun blasts tearing open that external layer of skin that means that you can get burns that go in pretty deep which would go a long way to explain how it is a weapon that doesn’t appear to have a lot of “penetrating” energy is capable of killing someone relatively immediately, especially if theyve got that initial kinetic impact thats capable of tearing open the dermis and making the injury go deeper.

im going to tentatively say that raygun injuries are basically full-thickness burns with a few bells and whistles. basically, they destroy the epidermis and the layer of skin below it, the dermis. thats the level of third/fourth degree burns and worse, essentially.

so, serious burn treatment usually goes as follows:

clean! that! wound! it’s best to do this in a sterile environment, cause otherwise youre gonna end up blistering the injury and agitating it further. you wanna get all the dead tissue and gunk off the burn.

pain medication. with most burns the nerve endings can get pretty fried and you might not immediately experience any pain, but since raygun injuries go a little harder than your average burn, thats probably not the case. people definitely consistently react in pain after theyre shot with a raygun in the both the mvs and the comics. so yeah, its painful. pain medication is nice to mute that feeling.

antibiotics and/or tetanus shots to make sure that you don’t get an infection

intravenous fluids containing electrolytes as well as a diet high in protein and nutritional supplements

antibiotic ointments/creams for the injury

skin grafts to close the injury since a burn of that severity would have difficulty closing completely on its own. yikes.

continuous monitoring of the patient to prevent sepsis and eschar from fucking with the blood vessels and healing tissue.

obviously killjoys do not have the benefit of a fully stocked hospital. if youre in bat city youre probably gonna be in more luck. but if youre slumming it or if youre in the zones, heres what i imagine the killjoy diy procedure would likely be:

application of water over the wound. cool water is best, not ice-cold (alright alright alright alright alright etc)

cleaning the injury comes next to prevent infection. ideally you would use soap. do not scrub as youll agitate the wound

pain medication might be helpful here, but who knows if thats common out in the zones - and i imagine city-born killjoys might have some hang-ups with taking meds, so who fuckin knows there.

bandages, ideally clean ones, would help cover up the injury and keep it from the elements in time for it to heal. that will also cover up the skin while the bleeding heals up. keep the wound as closed from infection as possible.

check up on the injury consistently especially since the burn probably wasnt sterilized on impact the way most burns are. a messy injury like that one can go south very very quick.

realistically i doubt that skin grafts are readily available. its recommended that you stay out of the sun and avoid lots of exercise that might risk reopening the injury. and that...is going to be nigh impossible if youre a zonerunner lol. its likely that improper treatment can lead to infection and then death. it is also likely that too much agitation of the injury can lead to the wound reopening, infection, and then death.

if you get stuff like light grazes, where the bolts clip you but dont fully impact you, that means youre like to get some surface-level burns that cover a larger surface area. theyll heal quicker if you treat them right, but thats a larger area thats open to infection. burns that go deep into the skin have more immediate fatality risk. there could be variation here as well! maybe a laser gun with a lower or dying charge will do less damage. maybe some guns have fancy “stun” settings that don’t do permanent damage.

the human body is surprisingly resilient and can recover from a lot. but burns are no joke and a raygun blast can easily be fatal either immediately or a little bit after the fact. even if you survive the blast, there are likely to be a lot of repercussions to taking a serious hit, which im again basing on the noted consequences of major burn injuries

likely consequences of surviving a raygun hit in the zones:

scarring. especially without skin grafts, this ones gonna be a gimme, and likely permanent. serious burns can leave lots of color changes to the skin as well as keloid tissue (which is a raised, lumpy kind of scar tissue. you can google it if you want but as i warned before: images might be pretty grody). this would also prevent the growth of new hair in those areas. most hospitals try to excise this and replace it with skin grafts to speed healing but like i said thats not likely to be an obvious solution in the desert.

nerve damage. burns that go super deep can permanently remove the feeling from the affected part of the body. this is likely to be permanent. deep contact usually remains intact but stuff like subtle pressure changes can be outright impossible to sense. this can also cause contractures in the affected area.

weakness in the affected area. related to the above point, damage to muscle tissue and nerves can reduce range of motion, strength in that area, and more.

itching and pain at the site of injury. pretty self-explanatory. that one might get better as you go on depending on how good the medical treatment was at the time of injury.

inability to sweat. the destruction of sweat glands in affected areas are possible if the burn goes deep enough. in the desert this can be very bad news lol

psychological trauma. a given. any traumatic injury can have long-term psychological effects.

my main takeaway here is that killjoys who’ve been in lots of serious firefights are gonna have a sHITTON of scarring, some of it obvious. lots of killjoys looking pretty fucked up. lookin wiped out. my other takeaway is that surviving a raygun blast is pretty dependent on getting care for it as soon as possible, cause the infection/hemorrhage risk seems pretty high.

ofc this is just me analyzing this shit to hell and back and it’s probably nowhere near that scientifically DENSE im just detail-oriented as hell. so take or leave this answer, whichever you like lol. i like writing the nitty gritty details of injuries since i generally wanna emphasize how rough life in the zones can be so this is something im interested in exploring.

#anon #ask #*fabrication #cw medical stuff burn stuff etc.#im not capable of writing a succinct answer to anything lol #anyway this is why like...so many kj characters and ocs i design are SUPER scarred #and also why so many analog vets are missing limbs and stuff

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jiangwanyin · 3 years

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(simply impossible to settle on 5 characters so here's 6 instead hjksgfjxc) wei wuxian, lan wangji, jiang cheng, xiao xingchen, lan xichen, and xue yang for 9, 11, 17… also a few of my own prompts: be a personal assistant for, go on holiday with?? 💖💕💗💌💘💞💖💗

ashleigh my loveeee thank you i would expect nothing less from you and i adore those prompts!!! 💓💖💕💗💘💖💕 also this probably goes without saying but impeccable character choices i love all six of them very much 😌

9. fake-married to for undercover reasons

oh i feel like wei wuxian would definitely be my best bet here, he'd probably be happy to and good enough at putting on a believable act just for the hell of it, we'd get along well & have a laugh about it, we're both relatively open and shameless so i doubt holding hands or being slightly over the top affectionate to sell the show would be too hard for either of us and a bit of bickering and me rolling my eyes at him would most likely just make it all the more realistic, that is unless lan wangji was anywhere nearby because he'd just make heart eyes at him and completely ignore me and we'd be found out in under a minute

xiao xingchen my beloved<3 we have similar enough ideologies and personalities to get along really smoothly, i feel like he'd be easy to fall into a sort of cozy domestic relationship with, he's a bit insecure but *cracks knuckles* that's something i can work with and he's probably a little less used to or comfortable with bigger public displays of affection but then again i didn't see him complain when xue yang put his hand on his ass after to his knowledge knowing him for approximately one day so we probably wouldn't run into any issues there either and we'd have a great time bonding over being insufferable idealists and having an incurable i can fix him disease!! sounds perfect to me

again, i don't think he's really the type to pretend but lan xichen would be equally ideal for this, he's great company, kind and compassionate and easy to get along with and he's patient and even tempered where i'm.... well, not either of those things so i like to think we're simultaneously similar enough and balance each other out alright to have a very harmonic dynamic going on, i'm not entirely sure how convincingly romantic it'd actually be but it'd work well enough and tbh we'd have a good time just hanging out (and just maybe i'd take trying to find ways to make the brilliant zewu-jun flustered as a challenge to spice things up a little<3)

okay realistically he should be a lot lower on this list because he'd probably just murder me and even if he didn't for whatever reason, i doubt it'd have a happy ending, but i just think xue yang and i would make a very interesting team and could probably manage a divorced couple giving reconciliation an attempt dynamic? meaning he'd try and hate me but i'd just channel my inner xiao xingchen ✨ apart from that i'm picturing a lot of arguing and agressive hand holding and getting unnecessarily competitive about it but it just might work. i think. possibly.

lan wangji. oh i love him but i just don't think we could pull it off, the thing is that i adapt pretty well to others, but if the other person is quiet to begin with, i just stay quiet too but you know, we'd be efficient about it? we'd make up for the lack of chemistry by having a good understanding of the other person and figuring out the situation quickly enough, i think we'd make a good team and the rest of the time would be spent reading in comfortable silence next to each other or something, he'd be too reserved and earnest (and let's be honest, too in love with wei wuxian) to do anything more or really pretend and i'm unfortunately way too similar and simply Not naturally good at being loud and easygoing at all if i'm not getting a certain energy from the other person and lan wangji bless him is just not one of those people

yeah yeah i feel really bad about this too but as much as i adore him, i just think jiang cheng would be objectively terrible at any sort of undercover thing and is far too emotionally constipated to act openly in love and too traumatized to even let me get close to him so it'd probably go atrociously, the only way i could see it being anything other than an utter disaster is barely tolerating each other or talking for two weeks, ending up in a tight spot together and bonding over something slightly mean like other people's incompetence and grudgingly realising that we actually get along alright and would probably both start putting a little more effort into the whole fake marriage thing but i still don't realistically think it'd look like anything more than a tentative friendship?

11. to drag them away from a big fight because they’re injured

xiao xingchen. no explanation here, i just think he deserves it and could do with someone taking care of him for a change<3

lan xichen for similar reasons 😇

wei wuxian, i don't trust him to know his limitations and if wen qing isn't around someone's got to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid and overexert himself

jiang cheng. the only reason he isn't any higher on the list is because i don't think he'd appreciate it much and would probably be way too proud and bitchy about it but honestly i'd rather die than admit weakness so i really can't blame him there

lan wangji, he's the smartest one of the lot and i trust him to know what he's doing so he wouldn't be my priority

xue yang. i love him but i also think he deserves to suffer a little and he's probably the one who started the whole fight so maybe this'll teach him how to deal with the consequences, he could do with that

17. cook dinner for

jiang cheng and wei wuxian, i'm lumping them in together here because they're always a package deal and should not be separated we all saw how that worked out (i'm not crying you're crying) and they're canonically shown to thoroughly enjoy a good home cooked meal, i doubt my dishes could compare to yanli's lotus and rib soup but i think they'd appreciate it regardless

arguably he doesn't deserve it but xue yang because i don't think a great many people ever cooked him dinner and it'd do him good with some obligatory candy to go with the meal afterwards of course<3

i think assuming we're friends, lan wangji would also be rather appreciative in his own quiet way? i'd probably make him something veggie based and considerably less spicy than for the yunmeng siblings and we'd go and feed the rabbits and possibly a tiny a-yuan with the leftover carrots :,)

xiao xingchen for reasons stated above. knowing him he'd probably even join me in the kitchen to lend a hand bless him

it feels unnecessarily rude to leave him till last but lan xichen, obviously it would be lovely to cook for him and hopefully he'd like it too i just don't have quite as strong feelings about this scenario involving him as i evidently do when it comes to some of the others 😳

be a personal assistant for

ooo definitely lan xichen i just know he'd be an amazing boss and would probably be incredibly understanding and helpful and tell me i'm doing a good job every time and we both know i thrive on praise and reassurance, jin guangyao had the right idea there, i think all of us could do with daily affirmations from lan xichen<3 nothing quite like it<3

xiao xingchen because working closely with him sounds very lovely and i wouldn't mind running errands or dealing with correspondence for him because he'd also be appreciative and kind about it

alright i'm not saying it'd be pleasant but jiang cheng because at least he's pretty reliable and organized and i would probably be very keen on trying to impress him but would undoubtedly get myself fired one week in because i'm also incapable of keeping my opinion to myself and do not enjoy being bossed about and make it vv obvious

lan wangji. he'd give clear instructions, have reasonable demands, maybe his expectations are a little high and the work environment a bit dry and i'd have to work hard but it'd probably pay off in the end?

just going by level of friendliness and how easy and enjoyable it'd be he should be higher on the list but i'm simply not flexible and easygoing enough to deal with wei wuxian's schedule and general messiness i'm afraid

xue yang because he'd frankly be quite likely to make me kill people for him and i do have a moral code to live up to so no thanks—

go on holiday with

alright these answers already feel very xichen-centric but i'm just going to have to say lan xichen yet again because i feel like we'd be into similar things and would probably have a great and very chill time sightseeing and relaxing together

similarly predictably xiao xingchen, i stand by him being absolutely lovely company and being able to find enough common interests with him too to have plenty to do that we'd both enjoy very much

lan wangji!! perfect quiet and reliable companion to go to museums and libraries etc with and with trustworthy organization skills no less!! no last minute changes to the plan or lost plane tickets or anything unexpected and we could just avoid crowds together which sounds like bliss, i might enjoy someone a tad bit more talkative which is why he's only in third place, but overall it sounds very peaceful and simultaneously productive, we'd definitely be able to tick everything off our list of things to see and do

alright so i don't think our general pace for doing things or ideal holiday destinations would match perfectly but i like to think i'd get along just fine with jiang cheng too, he'd be a bit annoying and we'd likely get equally agitated about delayed flights or bad customer service and whatnot so i'm not sure how relaxing it'd actually be but we'd probably find a couple of things to do we'd both enjoy and the rest of the time wouldn't mind doing things separately and then reuniting in the hotel and going out for dinner

i'm really sorry about this but wei wuxian, he's way too spontaneous and while we'd definitely have fun just hanging out, he'd be bored out of his mind after five minutes doing the stuff i like doing on holiday and i'm too antisocial and not remotely adventurously enough to enjoy the things he'd probably want to do but i do believe we'd find a suitable compromise, i mean he is married to lan wangji and compared to him i actually am quite sociable i swear

xue yang, i really do enjoy him as a character and with a stretch of my imagination i can definitely imagine situations where we would probably be alright unless he's feeling particularly homicidal but i simply don't think we have anything in common or that there's much of an overlap between what we imagine a good holiday to be like i'm afraid

give me 5 characters to rank in a situation

#i know you were properly aware what you were signing up for when you sent this but these are SO long i'm so sorry asfgjds #also i feel bad about how i always end up sort of dragging jiang cheng i swear i love him very much we're just not very compatible #alright i spent longer thinking about these than i care to admit but thank you i enjoyed it immensely of course i love youuuu #asks #haleths #long post #i'm too tired to read through so please ignore any inconsistencies/typos/sentences that don't make any sense all of this probably #sounded a lot better in my head afjsjd

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lopithecusfanfiction · 4 years

Text

The World Keeps Turning (Except When You’re Gone)

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rating: Teen Word Count: 5710 Alternate: AO3 Summary: When out on a call, Buck gets badly hurt. Eddie does all that he can to save him while trying to stay calm and professional but it’s not as easy as it would seem. Warnings:

Hurt/Comfort

Angst with a happy ending

Blood and injury

Author’s Note: Will I eventually write a fic in Buck’s point of view? Probably. Is that today? No. I have no idea how realistic this is. I just wanted them to be stuck somewhere together and for Buck to be severely hurt. Also, this ended up much longer than I had planned (as per usual.) This takes place any time after 3x15. I hope you all enjoy this!

“Careful, Buck,” Eddie warns, reaching out to grab a hold of Buck’s shoulder and steer him clear of some debris that falls from the ceiling. They have been called to a building fire and are working their way through the multi-story building, clearing out rooms, and helping any people who have yet to evacuate. The fire is just above them on the next floor up and even from below, Eddie can feel the scorching heat.

“You know, I don’t get it,” Buck begins, rapping on one of the doors. “People hear the fire alarm and then just… stay? Why?”

“People do stupid things sometimes, Buck.” Eddie knocks on another door, calling out. There’s no answer and they move on. “They might think it’s just a drill or not that bad of a fire.” He waves Buck on. “Come on, we have two more floors after this and we don’t want to be in here when that fire starts traveling down.”

The fire has already engulfed three floors, floors that the team has already evacuated. That left the floor Eddie and Buck were on and the two below them. They can hear the crackling above them and there’s no warning when the ceiling gives out in front of Eddie. Buck pulls him back just in time but now the fire is definitely on this floor and spreading fast. The fire is blocking their way forward with no way through it.

Eddie turns to Buck. “We’re going to have to head back,” he says over the roar of the flames.

Buck looks past his shoulder, worry etching his face. “What about the people?”

Eddie shakes his head. The fire is spreading around them now. They don’t have much time. “We’re going to have to find another way over. Come on, we need to get to the other floors. We’re running out of time.”

Buck nods, takes a step back, and Eddie has the sudden feeling of lightness before sheer pain rockets up his legs and back. He turns over onto his side, a groan escaping his mouth before he coughs. His oxygen mask got knocked off and he swallows a lungful of smoke and dust which makes him cough even more. He tries to desperately scramble around for his oxygen mask and when he finds it, he places it quickly back on. Taking a couple of gulps of fresh air, Eddie blinks his eyes open to pitch black.

His heart rate skyrockets before he can calm himself and he reaches up to his helmet to turn on his flashlight quickly. Looking around, he doesn’t like what he sees. He’s surrounded by wood and concrete, somehow nestled into a pocket where the debris got caught on the walls, saving him from being crushed. They must have fallen through the floor but Eddie can’t tell how far they actually fell. He also doesn’t see a way out.

“Buck?” he asks, turning around. Pain shoots through his leg at the motion. He must have landed on it. “Buck?”

There’s a quiet groan back against some rubble closest to the wall. “Eddie?”

“Buck!” Eddie crawls to his friend and starts peeling away the debris that is on him. When he removes the last piece, however, he stops short, the breath catching in his lungs. There’s a piece of wood piercing through Buck’s lower abdomen, blood glistening on it and around it.

“Shit.” Eddie hears Buck whisper. “Well, that’s not good.”

Eddie swallows, trying to remain calm and remember his training. This isn’t the first time he’s had to deal with something like this and also to a friend. He removes his oxygen mask, throwing it off to the side, and notices Buck doesn’t have his on either, most likely having been knocked off as well. “It’s not good but you’re not dead, so there’s that.” Buck squirms and Eddie places his hands on Buck’s shoulders. “Don’t move. I need to assess the situation.”

“Best bet is digging out of here, right?” Buck asks, swallowing hard.

Eddie looks around with dread. “Yeah.” He crawls to the other side of their little bubble. Before starting to dig, he grabs a hold of his walkie and talks into it. “Cap? It’s Eddie. We’ve been pinned under some rubble. Southside of the building. Buck is hurt badly. Impale wound through the lower abdomen. I’m going to try and dig ourselves out.” When he lets go, all he is met with is silence. “Cap?” Still no answer. His walkie might have gotten damaged in the fall. With a sigh, Eddie starts digging through the debris. He doesn’t get very far before his digging causes part of the debris wall to collapse in on itself. Eddie scrambles back to avoid being crushed. “Maybe not.” He grabs his walkie again. “Cap, if you can hear this, negative on digging out. The structure we are under is very unstable. I repeat, it’s very unstable. Use caution when digging.”

“This isn’t good, Eddie.” Buck’s voice is quiet and he can hear the younger man’s heavy breaths. The wood could have punctured a lung.

Eddie crawls back to Buck, looking at the protruding wood. “Okay, I’m going to take care of this as best as I can right now.”

“Eddie,” Eddie carefully unzips Buck’s jacket and lifts the left side off of the wood, working slowly as to not agitate the wound. “How long do you think we can stay here?” He pulls the small first aid kit off his belt, opening it and grabbing the scissors, beginning to cut Buck’s shirt away. “We are, after all, in a burning building.”

“I don’t know, Buck.” Eddie shakes his head, peeling the sticky clothing away from Buck’s skin. It doesn’t look good at all. “Hopefully long enough for them to find us.”

“So, how bad is it Doctor?” Buck asks and when Eddie glances up at him, he has a tired smirk on his face. It disappears at Eddie’s look. “That bad, huh?”

“Do you think you’ll be able to move?” Eddie asks, looking the man over.

Buck looks tired at the thought but he still smiles. “Maybe but if we can’t dig ourselves out, what’s the point?”

“We might have to risk it. I’m going to try and stabilize the wood with some gauze.” Eddie reaches into the first aid kit again and grabs a wad of gauze. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really,” Buck answers and Eddie gives him a pointed look to not lie. “Okay, it hurts a lot.”

Eddie begins packing the gauze around the wood. It immediately turns red with blood. “You know better than to lie when it comes to this stuff, Buck.”

“Sorry,” Buck says breathlessly. “I was trying to contemplate which is worse; getting crushed or impaled.” Eddie snorts, trying to concentrate. “Getting crushed hurts like a bitch, Eddie. Like, all throughout your body. At least… at least until shock starts settling in and then your whole body kind of just goes numb.” Buck raises his hands, making a sweeping motion and Eddie notices they’re shaking. “This… this is more localized pain. It feels really hot but that could be the blood.”

Eddie reaches around Buck, feeling his back where the wood comes out. He needs to gauge at what angle it went in so he can know the extent of the internal damage that might have occurred. It’s below his lung so there’s a possibility that it didn’t puncture it after all but there’s no guarantee. There’s also no telling what other internal organs are damaged. He takes the tape and starts blindly wrapping gauze around the wood behind Buck as well, afraid to move him. “I think only you would be clinical about this, Buck.”

Buck tries to shrug but winces in pain. “Nothing else to do.” Buck’s head is starting to loll to the side, exhaustion taking control.

Knowing he has to keep Buck talking, he asks, “Okay, what else is different? Which would you prefer?”

“That’s a strange question.”

Eddie shrugs, licking his lips. “I want to know.”

Buck’s entire body has started to tremble now. “I think… I think I’d prefer being impaled. At least then it only hurts in one spot. God, Eddie, being crushed hurts so much.” Eddie looks up and sees Buck looking above them. Diverting his eyes, Eddie looks to where Buck is and his heart almost stops. There’s a slab of concrete just above them, precariously balanced between the two walls. Buck grimaces. “I really don’t want to be crushed again, Eddie.”

Eddie shakes his head, getting Buck’s attention. “That’s not going to happen because we’re getting out of here.” Eddie makes a point of looking around before settling on Buck again, shrugging nonchalantly. “And you know, I really don’t feel like getting buried alive again either.” He closes the first aid kit and hooks it back up to his belt. The gauze in front is soaked through with blood.

“I’m going to die here.” The statement takes Eddie by surprise and he looks up at Buck to where he can see his eyes filling with tears.

Eddie shakes his head, taking Buck’s shaking hands. “No, you’re not. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Buck sighs. “Eddie, we do the same thing for a living. I know when it’s bad and not survivable.” Buck tries to smile at him but it’s too sad and Eddie hates it. “You need to get out of here yourself.”

“No.”

“Eddie!” Buck says sternly. “Look at this place. It’s been filling up with smoke, there’s no way digging out of here isn’t going to make it collapse, and we both know I won’t be able to get out on time.”

“Buck, no. I’m not leaving you.” Eddie squeezes Buck’s hands and swallows around the lump in his throat.

“Eddie,” Buck groans stubbornly, closing his eyes briefly. “I can’t feel it anymore.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold at those words but he can’t stop shaking his head because, no goddamn it! “It’s fine.”

“You and I both know that’s not a good sign.” Buck has stopped shaking and he looks exhausted and if Eddie’s gloves weren’t covered in his blood, he’d reach up and wipe the tears off Buck’s face.

Eddie lets go of one of Buck’s hands, reaching up with a shaky hand to his walkie. He hadn’t even noticed he is shaking now. As if he had zapped it out of Buck and placed the tremors into his own body. “Cap?” He watches as Buck’s head falls back, blinking slowly. “Cap, can you hear me? We’re running out of time here.”

Foregoing the blood on his gloves, Eddie reaches out and cups Buck’s head, lifting it back up. “Buck.”

Buck catches his eyes but Buck’s own are unfocused and tired. “I’m so tired, Eddie.”

“I know you are.” Eddie shuffles next to Buck, pressing into him and holding him close. “But you know the drill, Buck, you have to stay awake.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Come on, just talk to me,” Eddie encourages, placing one hand down on the wound to try and stop the bleeding as best he can.

Buck drags in a ragged breath and it breaks Eddie’s heart to hear it. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Don’t,” he automatically says because if he hears Buck say the thing they’ve been dancing around for ages now, it’ll mean the end. It’ll mean Buck is leaving him and Eddie can’t deal with that. He just can’t. Eddie swallows thickly. “You can tell me later.”

Buck nods against his shoulder. “Okay.” He can hear how much of a struggle it is for Buck to take in breaths. “I need… Eddie, I need to close my eyes.”

“No, Buck.” Eddie shifts so he’s back in front of Buck’s prone body, looking down at him. “Buck, you know you can’t,” he says but it’s already too late. Buck has his eyes shut and Eddie cups his face again, trying not to panic. “Buck.” His hands shake wildly. “Evan.”

Buck’s eyes pop open before drooping again. “You never call me that.”

“Stay awake, man, come on.” Buck shakes his head minutely in protest and his head slumps to the side, eyes completely closed.

With his own tears streaming down his face, Eddie checks his pulse. His hands are shaking so badly that it’s hard to feel but it’s there despite being very weak. With a deep breath, Eddie pushes away from Buck and looks around the enclosure. There has to be a sturdy place where he can dig them out.

Crawling around to different sections as quickly as possible, Eddie tests them until he finds a place that he deems structurally sound enough. He starts digging, on the verge of frantic, knowing he doesn’t have much time, but he somehow keeps his calm. Somehow he stays professional, managing to shut off his emotions for now. Eddie digs with determination, glancing at the slab of concrete above them when the thing shifts but doesn’t move again.

Before long, he sees daylight and he calls out to anyone who can hear him. “Eddie?” He hears in the distance and though the tears have stopped rolling down his cheeks, his eyes fill with them once more.

“Over here!” He keeps digging until there is a hole big enough for him to crawl out of. He stands, despite the pain in his leg. The first thing he notices is smoking, black debris, however, the fire is gone. The building must have collapsed more but they were able to put the fire out easier this way. Then he sees Hen in the distance, running towards him and he hobbles in her direction, pointing behind himself. “Buck. Buck, he’s hurt. He’s… you have to help him. I tried…” Hen reaches him and grabs a hold of him to keep him steady. Eddie must make quite the sight if the look on her face is anything to go by.

Eddie turns back in the direction of Buck and starts limping towards him, pointing weakly. “Hen you have to help him. I couldn’t-” His breath hitches and a whimper he can’t control comes out of him. By now Chimney and Bobby are by his side, helping him to stand and they won’t let him walk even though Eddie wants nothing but to get back to Buck’s side.

“Eddie,” Bobby says gently, getting his attention. “What happened?”

Eddie tries to take in a deep breath but he can’t. They come in shallow gulps of panic but even so, his training kicks in from the question. “Buck’s been injured. Impale injury to the lower abdomen. I don’t think his lung was punctured but I can’t know for sure. I’ve stabilized the object but he’s bleeding a lot. I couldn’t stop it. He-he just passed out about five minutes ago. He still had a weak pulse when I last checked but I don’t know about now.”

Hen and Chimney rush over to where Eddie had crawled out of and Eddie tries to follow but Bobby stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Eddie, let me look you over.”

He shakes his head, turning back to Bobby. “No, I need to go help.”

“Eddie, you’ve done enough.”

“No, no, I told him I wouldn’t leave him,” Eddie explains and the tears in his eyes are back. “Bobby, I can’t-” Eddie’s throat closes up and the tears slip from his eyes. Damn it, he’s not going to break down in front of everyone. He’s used to this. He can deal with it. He can be professional.

Except that he’s exhausted and in pain and shaking and it’s Buck. Oh God, it’s Buck.

He doesn’t realize he’s collapsing to the ground until Bobby’s got his arms around him and is holding him up. “I’ve got you.” He drags Eddie up and away from where Chimney and Hen are working on Buck and Eddie tries to not think about the fact that Bobby probably just doesn’t want him to see them wheeling out Buck’s dead body because Buck isn’t dead. He can’t be.

The son of a bitch wouldn’t do that to him.

He just wouldn’t.

“Here, sit down.” Bobby deposits him on the back of an ambulance, not one of the 118’s as that will probably be the one they take Buck in. Bobby calls over another paramedic who begins checking Eddie over and asking him questions. He gives Eddie some oxygen and it’s not until he breaths in the clean air that Eddie realizes how much his lungs hurt. Bobby continues to stand guard but when Hen comes on the radio to update him about Buck, he quickly steps away and out of earshot of Eddie.

It pisses Eddie off and he pushes up, shoving the paramedic away, and limps over to where Bobby is finishing his conversation on the walkie. “Cap!”

Bobby turns to him, face grim. “They’re bringing Buck to the hospital.”

“Is he alive?” Eddie asks because that’s all he needs to know. He just needs to know if his world can keep turning or if it’s going to stop right here and now.

Bobby hesitates but soon nods. “Yes, he is.”

Eddie’s breathing speeds up and his eyes well up and for fuck’s sake, he wishes they would stop doing that but he can’t seem to control it. “Don’t lie to me,” he says harshly.

“Eddie, I’m not lying.” Bobby takes a step towards him, hands out with his palms facing forward. “He’s in critical condition, but he’s alive.”

“How critical?” Eddie asks as if he doesn’t know, as if he hasn’t seen people die from severe puncture wounds before. He needs to stay focused. This isn’t the time to start panicking.

“It’s not good, Eddie,” Bobby informs him and then places a hand on his shoulder. “He’s going to be fine. You did good.”

Eddie shrugs the hand off. “Bobby, I’m a trained medic. Don’t…” he swallows, tries to take a deep breath to calm himself. “Don’t try and comfort me. I know how it looks. I know I couldn't do much to help Buck. I know…” his throat tightens again but he breathes through it and continues with difficulty. “I know there’s a great possibility that Buck is going to die from this.”

Bobby’s got that sympathetic, all-knowing look that is usually reserved for Buck on his face and Eddie almost feels sick at the sight. “You did what you could and because of that, you did good.”

Eddie shakes his head. “I’ve been in worse situations. I should have done better. If only I had kept my cool better then-”

“Then nothing,” Bobby interrupts, placing a hand on his shoulder again to ground him. Eddie doesn’t want him touching him. “There’s nothing more you could have done in that situation, Eddie. No one could have.”

Eddie doesn’t think he can believe Bobby, not if Buck dies. Not if Buck leaves him and Christopher like Shannon left him. “We have to get to the hospital.”

“Okay,” Bobby agrees, finally letting go of his shoulder. “But only if you promise to get checked out there yourself. Buck will probably be in surgery anyway.”

Eddie just wants to go so he quickly agrees and they take the fire engine to the hospital. Bobby walks him over to the front desk of the emergency room and hands Eddie off to a nurse to get himself checked. When they give him a full bill of good health after letting him breathe in some oxygen and telling him his leg is only sprained, they let him go and Eddie makes his way to the waiting room that Bobby had told him everyone is in.

He approaches Chimney tiredly and he thinks if he sits down, he might fall asleep but at the same time he’s too strung up to do so. “Any news?”

Chimney shakes his head and sighs. “Not yet.” At Eddie’s frown, he says, “He hasn’t been in there long. It’s going to take hours, man.”

Eddie gives him a small nod, feeling sick to his stomach. He walks over to a corner of the room and calls Carla who says she can keep Christopher for a few more hours but won’t be able to keep him for much longer than that. “Okay, hang on. I’ll call you back.”

Next, he calls Pepa. “There’s been an accident at work.”

“Are you okay?” she asks him right away.

“I’m fine. It’s a coworker; Buck. You remember?” She gives him an affirmative and he continues. “I need someone to look after Christopher. I’m going to be at the hospital for several hours but Carla can only keep him a few hours after I was supposed to get him. Can-”

He doesn’t even need to finish his sentence before Pepa is answering firmly. “Of course, I can, Edmundo. Tell Carla to drop him off here whenever she needs.”

“Gracias, Pepa.” He hangs up then and calls Carla back, telling her the game plan. He also tells her not to tell Christopher what has happened to Buck, that he’ll do it himself when he next sees his son. When that is all done, he goes and sits down next to Hen and waits.

*~~~*

Buck is in surgery for seven hours and Eddie is left to wait on his own except for Maddie. The others had to go back to the firehouse and finish whatever shift they were on but Bobby insisted Eddie stay. So Eddie’s been doing nothing but pacing back and forth in the waiting area while Maddie sits there watching him.

“Eddie,” Maddie tries for the hundredth time. “Come sit down. Let me get you some water or coffee.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. Maddie had been kind enough to bring him a change of clothes and Eddie has already checked up on Christopher, calling him about two hours ago. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Christopher what happened to Buck and so Eddie had lied to him, telling his son that someone had gotten sick at work and he was asked to cover. Eddie tries to not feel guilty about lying but he can’t stand the thought of his kid worrying and being sad. “I’m fine,” he amends when Maddie won’t stop staring at him.

She’s frowning now and shouldn’t he be the one trying to be strong for her? “Eddie, he’s going to be fine. They haven’t told us anything different so he has to be.”

“You were a nurse, Maddie, you know things can change from good to bad just like that.” He snaps his fingers for emphasis.

Her frown deepens and she stands, making her way over to him. Eddie is probably annoying the other people in the waiting room too, with his pacing. Maddie gently grabs his arm. “Come sit down.” She carefully drags him over to one of the chairs and sits him down, sitting down next to him. She leans her head on his shoulder, linking their arms, and Eddie lets himself almost feel comforted.

But he knows better. There were many times out in the fields in Afghanistan where surgery was going well and then all of a sudden the person was crashing and they died. So Eddie won’t allow himself to hope or relax. Instead, he waits for the second shoe to drop and stays on high alert.

His heart drops into his stomach when, another hour later, the doctor comes out looking grim. Both him and Maddie stand, meeting him halfway. “How’s my brother?” Maddie asks.

The doctor sighs and Eddie is about ready to throw up until she smiles at them and says, “He made it through.” Eddie lets the breath he had been holding out in relief. “He’s under heavy sedatives and so will be asleep for a while but I think he’s going to pull through okay.”

Maddie has tears streaming down her face and she’s smiling. “That’s great news. Can we see him?”

The doctor looks from Maddie to Eddie and back. “Of course. I’ll show you to the room.”

They follow the doctor to the ICU and when she pulls back the curtain to Buck’s room, Eddie’s stomach flips with nausea. He’s shaking again and his palms are sweaty, heart beating crazy in his chest and he’s definitely going to throw up.

While Maddie goes straight up to Buck and cups one of his hands in hers, Eddie turns around, leaves the ICU, and beelines it to a one-person unisex bathroom where he promptly empties his stomach into the toilet. He’s amazed he even managed to make it to the bathroom and chalks it up to his training for the army. When he’s done throwing up, he shakily cups some water and rinses his mouth out, coughing at the burning sensation in his throat. He’s shaking uncontrollably and he feels hot and anxious and, yeah, he’s crying again.

He leans back against the wall, hitting his head against it when he tilts it back, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. Digging in his pocket for his phone, he looks at the screen and sees Maddie’s name across it.

From Maddie:

Are you okay?

To Maddie:

Yeah. I’ll be right back.

Eddie shoves his phone back into his pocket and leans his head back against the wall once more, taking deep breaths. Buck is okay. He’s fine. He’s going to live. Eddie wipes a hand down his face, smearing his tears. Buck had looked so pale, lying in that bed. Eddie had almost lost him. They have almost lost each other more than once. God, all this time they’ve been dancing around each other and how they feel about one another when they could die at any moment. What the hell are they waiting for?

Sniffling, Eddie pushes off the wall and splashes water on his face. When he looks at himself in the mirror, his eyes are red and puffy and his cheeks are splotchy. There’s no hiding the fact that he’s been crying… well… sobbing really. He’s embarrassed by it and it’s only made worse when he opens the door to the bathroom to see someone waiting for it outside the door. He suddenly can’t remember if he had been crying silently or noisily and Eddie’s cheeks flame red. The older woman gives him the common courtesy to smile at him sympathetically before pushing by him and entering the bathroom herself.

Wallowing in his embarrassment, Eddie slowly makes his way back to Buck’s room. Maddie is still there, sitting in a chair next to the bed, and she looks up at him in worry. “Are you okay?”

Eddie nods silently and pulls up another chair on the opposite side of the bed. He takes a hold of Buck’s other available hand. He can feel Maddie’s eyes on him. “What is it?”

She sighs tiredly. “He feels the same way, you know?”

“I know,” he says simply.

This seems to surprise her. “You know? Did he tell you?”

“No.” He swallows. “He was going to. I stopped him.”

“Why?” she asks, brows scrunching in confusion.

“Because it’s what you do before you die.” He shakes his head. “I wasn’t going to let him die.”

Maddie’s lips thin and Eddie has to look away from her. Instead, he looks at Buck’s pale face. At least he just looks like he’s sleeping and not in pain. “You should tell him.”

“I know.”

“How come you don’t then? He wouldn’t reject you.” She huffs a small laugh. “He’d probably be overjoyed.”

Eddie shakes his head and licks his lips. “I don’t know how to.” Then, “No, I… I do know how, I just…” he trails off, not being able to continue.

“Then why can’t you?” Maddie pushes.

Eddie sighs, looks at Buck again and feels his heart beat into his throat, making it hard to breathe. “I’m afraid.”

“Of?”

“Letting someone in,” he says, rubbing the back of Buck’s hand with his thumb.

Maddie smiles at him, warm and amused. “Eddie,” she waits for him to look in her direction. “You’ve already done that. Buck’s already in.”

*~~~*

Buck doesn’t wake up until the next day. He groans and shifts, face scrunching in discomfort. Eddie is by his side, grabbing a hold of his hand and squeezing it to try and calm the man. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Buck blinks open his eyes, staring up at Eddie. “Eddie?”

Eddie smiles at him and almost brushes his hair back. “Hey. You’re in the hospital.”

Buck looks around and grimaces. “God, I hate hospitals.”

Eddie chuckles and pulls the chair he had been sitting in closer so he can sit. “You and me both.”

Buck’s eyes land back on his and they study each other. Eddie is so relieved to be able to see those blue eyes again. “You stayed.”

“I told you I would, didn��t I?” Eddie says, not being able to resist anymore and so he reaches up and brushes his free hand through Buck’s hair. “You scared the shit out me, man.”

“I scared myself.” Buck smiles, licking his dry lips.

“Are you thirsty? In pain? They have you on some pretty strong drugs right now but if you’re hurting I can get a nurse and-”

Buck interrupts him, shaking his head. “No, I’m not in pain. I can’t really feel anything right now. Pretty loopy.” Buck looks around the room again. “Christopher?”

“I haven’t told him what has happened.” Buck nods in understanding at that. “I didn’t want to worry him. I’ll tell him when you’re out of here and out of danger.”

Buck nods again, swallowing. “My mouth is so dry.”

Eddie huffs in good humor. “That’s why I asked if you were thirsty, you idiot.” He grabs the cup and pitcher of water one of the nurses left and pours Buck some water, placing a straw in it. “Here, let me help. You’re going to be a little weak for a little while.” Eddie lifts the cup to Buck’s mouth and Buck grabs the straw between his lips to sip gingerly at the liquid. He drinks the whole cup before letting his head fall back to the pillow. “You have a catheter in so you don’t have to worry about going to the bathroom yet.”

“Good. I don’t think I’d be able to make it.” Buck gives him a smile. “My limbs feel like lead.” Then his smile disappears and he looks at Eddie with so much empathy and sadness that Eddie has to look away. “How bad did it get?”

“You passed out and I had to dig us out.”

“Without getting us crushed?”

Eddie chuckles, squeezing Buck’s hand again. “Yeah, it was touch and go but like I told you, you weren’t getting crushed again and I wasn’t going to get buried again.”

“My hero.” Buck’s eyes light up with admiration and love and Eddie’s cheeks get hot.

“Hen and Chim got you out,” he continues, ignoring the flush that’s gone all through his body. “We didn’t know if you were going to make it. You were in surgery for ages and then when they were done, you were asleep for a while. Maddie was here for a long time when you were sleeping and just stepped out to go home for a couple of hours to shower, change, and then call into work. She’ll be back soon though.”

“And the others?” Buck asks sleepily.

“Uh,” Eddie runs a hand through his own hair. He’s exhausted but he had refused to sleep before Buck woke up. “Bobby and Athena were here about an hour ago. Chimney said he’ll stop by later after his shift and Hen, well,” Eddie gets up out of the chair, letting go of Buck’s hands. He walks over to the rolly table and lifts up a fruit basket. “Hen brought this. I guess Karen made it for you.”

Buck’s smile is wide with happiness and it fills Eddie’s chest with warmth. “I was wondering what that was and where it came from.” Buck reaches out, gesturing for Eddie to take his hand again. Eddie complies, sitting back down. “And what about you?”

Eddie shrugs. “What about me?”

“Have you gotten any rest?” Buck is eyeing him. “Because I’ll bet you look just as bad, if not worse, as me.”

Eddie scoffs good-naturedly. “What are you talking about? I always look good.”

“So do I,” Buck says. “And that’s the point.”

Eddie chuckles at Buck’s ridiculousness, shaking his head. “You’re amazing, do you know that?”

“For a matter of fact,” Buck begins, laughing and causing Eddie to laugh too. “I do.”

Eddie laughs at him, ducking his head and pressing their joined hands against his forehead. He laughs until he starts to cry, shoulders shaking with the effort. It’s like everything that he has been feeling just rushes into his chest and pushes against him, suffocating him. He feels happy and sad, anxious and relieved, mournful and loving, all at the same damn time. And he can no longer control them. He can no longer keep them at bay and so he cries in front of Buck, wet sobs coming from his mouth as he gasps for air.

Buck’s other hand is carding through his hair, petting him soothingly. “Eddie?” Buck pulls on his hand. “Eddie, it’s okay. Come here.”

He looks up at Buck, his best friend, the man he has been in love with for so long now that he can’t even imagine living without him. Buck pulls him closer, guides him weakly onto the bed, and maneuvers them both until Eddie has room to lie in the bed next to him. Eddie, for all he’s worth, buries his face into Buck’s chest and cries and cries and cries. Buck’s hand runs up and down his back as his other arm wraps around Eddie’s waist, holding him close and whispering over and over again that’s it’s okay.

And if Eddie lets slip while he’s there bawling his eyes out that he loves Buck and Buck says it back to him ever so quietly while pressing his lips against Eddie’s head, well, that’s for them to know and only them.

———————————————————————————————————–

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this fic! Eddie is probably a little ooc in this, I know, but I wanted him to be a little bit vulnerable. I mean, that’s the love of his life almost dying right there after all. ;)

Thank you for reading!

#Buddie #911 #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #Buck #The World Keeps Turning (Except When You’re Gone)#My Fanfiction

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brinnygetsstabbed · 3 years

Text

[ DEADLY AGREEMENT // MOUSE’S MEMORIES]

She made a promise.

She made a promise to get herself into the woods when she could. Be it after Trial or when the others drifted away to do their own thing. To return to that hidden place, where nothing useful is. The edge of survivor territory.

It’s dangerous, and she knows it’s dangerous. It’s just not compared to the doom looming over her if she doesn’t put herself in danger. There’s no choice. She’ll be hurt either way, it’s just a matter of postponing the pain. But, if she does this now, if she goes, maybe she can escape it for a bit. Make him happy, keep him calm.

Just fulfill the promise.

Her legs tremble with each step, the further she gets from the fire, the darker the world around her gets. Brin hates the feeling of being so alone, yet so surrounded at the same time. She has no bubble, no shield around herself to hide behind. Exposed, an easy target. Still, she pushes forward, going by uneven memory.

Lots of deals, the concepts of arrangements were vaguely thrown onto the table. She does something for him, and he lets her go. He lets her go and with that, he offers a mocking version of security. It’s easier to see the light when he’s not snuffing it out, when she’s still got her eyes. She can see how awful he is. How terrible she is for even listening, for not turning to her real friends for help. This will just isolate her more, only leaving him. The only person she’ll have left to turn to is the person who is hurting her.

the person who is using her. She knows it.

Yet still, she is walking.

The air shifts, the little pocket comes into view. A small area missing trees, a rock sits right in the center. The canopy still acts as a weird roof to this space. She doesn’t feel safe, but at least there’s no immediate danger. Not until he shows up, and he will. She knows he will. He always does.

Brin holds her arms tightly around herself, a slight shiver clings to her bones. Just wait.

Time gives her room to think, to consider. To figure out a way to escape this, escape him. The game she fell into. It's a trap, and she curses herself for not seeing it sooner. What was so special about him anyway? She shouldn’t be so hooked on a killer’s attention, but she is. And he knows it.

Her thoughts trail off to analyzing him, again. Probably for the hundredth time, despite how much she hates it. Everything about him is so wrong, because it’s so normal. He can be nice, funny, caring. It’s all a goddamn lie, though. He doesn’t care. He can’t. He’s a killer, he’s killed her, several times now. And each time, it’s only gotten worse.

Like a knife dragging up her spine, Brinley’s mind screeches to a halt. Panic surges, the shaking and trembling is much worse. She’s exposed- actually exposed- now. Her eyes dart everywhere, looking for that white mask.

She hears his sigh of satisfaction before she sees him, “Good, just making sure I’ve got your attention.” His voice is muffled, but finally he steps into view. He’s been hidden, probably watching her for at least a minute now. Bastard.

Her shaking is as bad as it could be, Brin swallows the ball of fear in her throat, only preparing to speak. Don’t say anything, yet, don’t set him off. This can be easy, just… Wait and listen.

He approaches so casually, stopping at the side of the rock, leaning against it. His hand pats the top of the dark stone, very politely asking- probably telling- Brin to take a seat next to him. With so much reluctance, she does. Her muscles tense, coiled like a spring, a bullet ready to fly; she’s ready to bolt. She wants to run away so bad, but being around him makes her crumble instead. She’s exposed anyway, running will only turn this into a very bloody discussion.

“You’re early, that’s good,” He comments, tone unbearably gentle. Before saying anything else, the mask comes off, and is set on the rock, “I’d hate to have to chase you down outside a Trial, really.”

Liar. He’s already done that.

Brin says nothing, her eyes are glued to the patchy grass. Only a hum of slight acknowledgment is let out, just to signal she’s listening. He has her full attention, well, her unharmed attention. It’s the eye contact that really hooks her brain. He’s terrifying. Something about silver eyes is so… Intense. It’s migraine inducing.

Of course that’s not good enough for him, though. No, the selfish prick needs more than her everything. Still maintaining the delicate demeanor, his finger nudges under her chin, bringing her gaze snapping up to his. The reaction is more than immediate. No touch, bad touch, she’s already overwhelmed. Fine, he wants 101% of her attention? He’s got it.

As always, his eyes pierce her, his presence digs into her soul. Like a magnet, she’s pulled in, regardless of the struggle she tries to put up. He looks too smug, too happy with how easy it is to throw her brain into a paper shredder. For a moment, he simply scans her, his face changes to concerned, worried maybe, “Aw, Sweetheart, why are you shaking?”

He should know why, “I- It’s… I’m just nervous, Jed, it’s fine.” Brin struggles to find her voice, when it comes out, it’s weak, just barely a few squeaks of an explanation.

The vibe changes, with it, a chuckle rumbles in his chest, setting her nerves on a razor's edge. She wants to run, to escape her own skin, but she’s locked in place by conditioning. Fear tactics and pain, but with the glowing lure of the catharsis of comfort. He’s able to turn on a dime, shifting from monster to some sort of guardian. It’s wrong, it’s so unbearably wrong and it hurts, but she can’t get away from it. No matter how hard she tries, “Relax, bunny, I'm not gonna hurt you, I just wanna talk.” He’s facing her more now, looming closer, “I’ve got a little job for you.”

A… Job? Jesus, what the hell does that even mean? The flicker of actual fear in her eyes makes him hum, “Don’t worry, it’s easy.” His reassurance isn’t convincing, “We’re both new here, aren’t we? Why don’t we help each other, then? All I need you to do is act as a sort of… Tracker.” Now she’s just confused, “Stick to a teammate, accidentally damage generators, don’t touch the totems if any are lit. Don’t waste your time trying to get them off hooks.” Ah, so he just wants her to lock herself away and be useless? Her heart hurts at the idea.

Brin’s eyes finally fall, her head turns away, her arms hugged tighter around herself, “I can’t.” She murmurs, finding speaking much more difficult, “I can’t betray them like that, I'm sorry…”

Again, the emotions in the air grow agitated, all this altering is giving the survivor whiplash. This conversation could go a lot faster if he just gave a clear order and left, but he’s never that simple. Quietly, a cooing hush comes from his lips, “Hey, it’s ok. They won’t know, they don’t need to know.”

… She shouldn’t feel relieved to hear that.

“I can just make them think it’s all me. They’re mean to me, Brinny. Them and the other killers.” Jed’s tone gets hurt, dull, melancholic, “Didn’t the other kids out there push you around? Help me out, sweetheart. In return, I can let you go more often.”

Cynicism mixed with the hatred of death makes this offer sound lovely. It’s not, it’s wrong. Everything about what they are is wrong. He’s a killer, a murderer and a stalker, and she shouldn’t be so willing to talk to him. To be near him with no one else around. Realistically, it’s horrifying, but in the moment, so many different emotions mix into something she can’t describe.

Is he even actually bullied by the other survivors? Sure, she’s not always there to see it, but she shouldn’t feel empathy so quickly either. Jed, being bullied? That doesn’t really make him seem scary, just pitiful. Her brain is tearing itself apart just to figure out what he’s trying to do. Is he trying to get her emotions? He already has that. Is he… Trying to seem human? Weak? Is he trying to earn her pity so she’ll help him? Or is he trying to make her dislike the other survivors? To dislike even other killers?

None of it makes sense.

She can’t answer, she can’t do much other than sit and fester in her own panicked confusion. She wants to know which game he’s playing so she can try and outsmart him, but the possibility of more than one game is what’s throwing her off. It’s already hard enough to constantly have to remind herself that she’s being played in the first place. She’s so desperate to feel something other than danger, and with him having given her that, she just wants it back. She wants the nice Jed, the Jed that serves as the personal bubble she lacks.

But this isn’t nice Jed. He’s scheming and plotting and if she threatens his plans, he’ll get angry.

And when he gets angry, he gets violent.

Brin doesn’t want violent Jed.

A brow is raised at her silence, his outward presence seems to get stronger just by him willing it so. How does he do that? He hasn’t moved an inch, yet somehow he feels so much more intimidating than before, “Ignoring me now, are we?” His tone is subtly scolding, that’s never a good sign.

It makes her practically jump from her spot, taking a wary step back just to have room to think. It’s so hard to think when he’s that close, all attention is glued to him just out of self-preservation, “N- No! Just… I'm sorry I don’t know… I wanna help, I do but-”

“But what, Brinny?” He asks, cutting her off sharply, “I don’t like it when you lie to me. You don’t want to help me, you just wanna make sure your little survivor buddies keep caring about you.”

Tears bite at the corners of her eyes. The air is hot, it’s thin but so heavy and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. She’s cowering, another step back, “J- Jed, no, please just listen.” Brin pleads, trying not to cry, “I can… I’ll help, yes, but- But I can’t betray them, I need to help them.” Ok, ok. Her voice finds a slight levelness, the shaking in it isn’t as noticeable. Her desire to help her true friends is helpful in combating the fear his now harsh stare inflicts.

But, like with everything good, it’s short lived.

He strides closer, brow creased in apparent irritation, “Who do you want to help, then?” He questions, “You can’t get greedy and do both, Brin. It’s them or me.”

God- she’s backing up as he gets closer, soon there won’t be anywhere else to run. The ultimatum is agony. He doesn’t have any right to do that to her, she doesn’t- she isn’t his item. She isn’t a knife, she’s not some tool. She isn’t a spy for his bullshit. Justified anger mixes with fear, leaving a bitter taste in her dry mouth, “Don’t- you can’t… That’s not fair, don’t make me choose.” Please. She can’t do that, she just can’t. That’s why she goes to the others to guide her.

Whatever she said, it clearly snaps something inside his head. His hand shoots forward, grabbing her roughly by the jaw and pulling her forward, “I’m giving you options here, sweetheart.” Jed growls, glaring right into her soul, “Them or me. Who can really protect you from the other killers?”

That’s not a rhetorical question. She wishes it was, though, because now she’s only got so many seconds to come up with an answer, “...You.” That’s not what she wants to hear. Sadly, that hardly matters now.

“And who can get you out of more Trials?”

“...” For a moment, her brain refuses to speak, only breaking under the pressure of his grip tightening on her jaw, “You.”

“Who can get you better food?”

It might seem silly, but food matters here. In a different way, obviously. It keeps the occupants of the Fog sane for much longer. Keeping sensations alive, keeping the concept of life itself alive, “You.”

Finally his hold relaxes, as does his posture, “I do. So won’t you just do this little favor? I’ll still let you go, Bunny, just make a few simple mistakes.”

Brinley can’t make herself look at him anymore. All of that mental training crumbles under the stress that his eyes bring. She could look into them all day, if only he wasn’t so goddamn terrifying.

Her hands instinctively grabbed onto his wrist, not even looking to try and pry him off, just clinging to support. Her stomach is tied into knots, those knots are in other knots. She’d puke if she could, but sickness is strange here. So, she’s left with queasy nausea. She can’t do this, not to them, she just- think of the good. The stories, the laughing around the campfires. The little celebrations after they all get out of a Trial together. Those little moments where they’re all just humans, suffering together. Calm silence, small gestures.

That’s what she should be holding onto, that’s the good. Not this, not a killer. If she just told them about what was happening, they’d help. They’d all be there for her. Right? How could she have even considered the concept of working with the enemy just to survive?

“...N- I just…” Her main objective is escape, just she’s not willing to pay the price. She can’t accept this offer, he’ll treat it like a bloodpact. It practically could be, given all the blood he’s drained from her. No, she won’t be trapped in that agreement, because if she fails at it, he’ll probably torture her worse than before. Worse than a mori. Nothing is worse than being the only one left in a Trial with him, “Please, I- I can help in a different way, I just need time to think.”

Now she’s done it.

Attempting to toss out another, much less scary idea is impossible. His hand shifts, clamping down on her throat. Her own hands grip his wrist harder, nails digging into the cloth of his shroud, “Tick tock, Brinley.” Shit. Full name. No nicknames. Never did she think she’d prefer to be called ‘Brinny’ over her regular name before now, “I’m not interested in anything else. You do this favor, or I’ll hunt you for sport, even outside the Trials.”

No amount of good memories can keep the streak of selflessness going. Trials are already hard enough, sometimes other killers already give her enough hassle. She can’t speak, but she can try, nodding as she does, “O- o… Ok. Ye...s”

The guilt is agonizing, but if she didn’t answer, he’d probably strangle her to death. Brin wants to keep the dying to Trials, as much as she can.

Her response seems to please him enough, anyway.

Jed hums, letting go of her neck, gently holding her face after she coughs and wheezes for a moment or two, “See? There we go, it’ll be easy, I promise.” He’s back to being sweet. Fear does something wicked to her brain. Sweet means good, no pain, no danger. Fear also makes her want to break down. No pain? Time to go looking for something secure to crumble against. He can see it, too. Fuck, he can probably even sense how close her brain is to shattering completely. Indigo eyes shine with overflowing tears, all it takes to make them roll down her face are more gentle words, “Hey, you’re ok, Sweetheart, you’re ok.”

She’s not ok, but she can be.

Swaying forward, her eyes squeeze shut, her shoulders twitch in tandem with muted sobs. Nothing matters anymore, she doesn’t have the energy to care about what she just signed off on, she just needs to hide. Jed is the only thing to hide against.

So, she lets herself break down. He’s been particularly good at putting her back together. And then tearing her apart. Over, and over, and over.

Though, maybe with this, that’ll happen less.

God she hopes so.

#Moments from the Fog;; oneshots/shorts #//not so short #//for some context on Brin and Jed's history.#//He pretty much just forced her into sabotaging trials to make his job easier #//and in turn; isolated her from the other survivors #//fun times #//cut for length

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heartwoodventures · 4 years

Text

Lightning Strikes Twice

This time, Red Argos had hit close to home. Earlier in the week Momori had brought word to Heartwood Ventures that the pirate crew had been spotted in the Black Shroud. There had been reports of kidnappings as well as rumors of one paranoid man who, being convinced he was next, had barricaded himself within his home near the Honey Yard.

It was a rainy day in the Shroud but those who had been summoned to the Company House didn’t bother to go inside. They knew they’d be leaving just as quickly as they had arrived. Instead they gathered under the cover of umbrellas in Heartwood’s front yard. The weather seemed to keep the conversations muted, subdued.

Suddenly a young midlander girl darted out from the company building, her long black braids bouncing as she giggled uncontrollably. She held a pair of red tinted glasses aloft in her hands, and she was soon followed by a very angry lalafell that came chasing after her.

“INGA. Give those back! I swear, if you don’t drop them right now...” Momori growled at the girl, who scampered up a tree laughing.

It was at that moment that Momori noticed the company’s presence, and immediately shifted to her professional composure.

“Hello. Ahem. Thanks for coming today. Nice weather we’re having.”

Lumarto kept his eyes on Inga as she ran off, clearly used to it. "Dreary, but aye." he said, glancing back to Momori.

A ripple of agreement moved through the group.

The lalafell wasted no time and began to explain the situation at hand. Red Argos had been seen in the Shroud. Two Honey Yard workers have disappeared and a local madman claimed he was the next to go. When there was noise among the group in favor of paying this supposed madman a visit, Momori made it clear she thought that lead was a waste of time. It was a strange situation, to be sure. But the authorities had said that Ser Stone, as that was his name, had a history of grand delusions.

"Well, if he's not what you want to pursue, who then?" Muneshige gruffly asked.

The Raen swordsman made a few of their company nervous. He was loud, brash and always seemed to be itching for a fight. There was little doubt that if there came even the slightest whiff of the possibility of violence during this endeavor, he’d charge at it like a bull at the sight of the color red.

"Two other leads. Could ask workers at the Honey Yard, see if they know where Argos is hiding this time. Or even Little Solace. I am aware the pirates are....somewhere, in the Sylphlands, though exactly where is uncertain." Momori explained.

"Sylphlands..." He repeated, seemingly mystified by the name.

Zorah shook her umbrella a bit, closing it up as the rain finally stopped. "I like the Sylphs. Cute little creatures."

"Creatures? Are they...native to this wood?" Muneshige was definitely curious now.

Aislinn weighed the options, considering which one would bring them in contact with the pirates the quickest. Because, ultimately, it was the pirates she was after. "Aye, and if we know the pirates are in their lands, I say we go there."

"Whatever you choose, I will be tagging along....virtually, of course.” Momori produced a handful of the modified linkpearls and passed them out among the group, explaining to those who had yet to see the devices how they worked. “For the unaware, aside from normal linkpearl functions, this device captures data about an image and aetheric levels at the time of taking it. Press the button on its side to snap a photo. It’ll save the last one you take.”

With that done, she dove into debriefing the crew on what she had learned from the information they had collected during their last endeavor. She paused in particular on the matter of the Allagan artifact, the Helm.

“Now, the artifact. The Helm. It’s not so useless after all! The crystal at the center of the artifact has unlocked its capabilities. Unfortunately, the snapshot Lumarto took has too much noise in it. If you could get a photo of just the crystal at the center, before the ritual has happened, I would better be able to pinpoint what it’s composed of.” she said with a look to the miqo’te.

"Something that strong and heavy with aether wouldn't be so easy to approach just like that... depending on who has it, at least..." Luma said, scratching his head as he tried to make heads or tails of even the realistic nature of such a request.

He wasn’t wrong. What Momori was asking simply wasn’t feasible.

Aware of this fact, Aislinn shifted a wry glance to Lumarto as he stood next to her. "Ask if you can get a close-up shot next time. I'm sure they won't mind." she said, all but deadpan.

Lumarto glanced at her and scoffed.

“I believe in you.” Momori returned. Also deadpan.

Aislinn shook her head at the lalafell.

From there the talk devolved into more discussion as to the origins of the Helm, the artifact’s history and it’s possible purpose.

"Do we think the elements surrounding that in the center correlate with the brands we found?" Lumarto asked, glancing back at Inga in the trees before rubbing at the burn on his hand. "If so, there may be more missing that answer the puzzle."

Momori nodded at Luma. “This one carries the brain cell, I see. Yes, the brands, the artifact, the core...they’re all linked, somehow.”

Thankfully, the rest of them refused to rise to the bait. Zorah bit her tongue while it took a considerable amount of self-control on Aislinn’s part not to roll her eyes. Hard.

“We use our scant resources wisely.” Rolanda quipped.

The lalafell flipped to a different page in her journal, where she had sketched two marks. One shows the sigil of fire, and the other, earth. Both are surrounded by six wings.

“The mark of fire was found burned into a skeleton’s wrist. The mark of earth, currently found on young Inga. Both recovered from Red Argos’s old campgrounds.” Momori glanced at Inga, the young midlander girl who was busy climbing in the treehouse.

Zorah looked toward Inga, "Is she going to be buried alive? Is that the hint?"

"Haha, who knows? Not us, not yet." Momori smiled.

Zorah blinked, ears flattening. "Well, hopefully we'll prevent that."

"As for the rest, let me be brief. I showed the Yellow Jackets Aislinn’s photo. The one she took of Aiswyda’s evil twin. No dice. Perhaps if we found more evidence..."

Aislinn compressed her lips together at the mention of the intractable Yellow Jackets.

"Now, I leave you to your work..." Momori said, sending them off.

The group traveled through the Shroud, the journey blessedly uneventful, until they arrived at the small camp at the very edge of the Sylphlands. Little Solace. There were sylphs galore and none of them seemed particularly concerned or alarmed. At least here, all was well.

Muneshige was taken aback, really, the forest of the Black Shroud was nothing like he'd ever seen out east, and the mystical aesthetic of Little Solace and its small population briefly captivated him. But only for a moment, for he was already looking around for signs of strong opponents, "Well, this is quite a location..."

Two slyphs by the red tent were deep in gossip. Others flutter about, warming their cabbage bodies by the campfire.

Zorah clapped her hands together as the band arrived. "Look how cute they are." She spoke quietly, reaching for her chocobo’s reins.

"First order of business was to gather information, yeah? These gossipy little creatures are sure to have heard a word or two in the forest." Lumarto said, getting down to business.

Aislinn tucked her gemstone into her pouch as the carbuncle dissipated. Looking around, she noted the general air of calm around the camp. "Don't seem to be too agitated. But aye, we should probably ask around. See if they've heard anything." she said in agreement with Luma.

Zorah had dismounted and now nodded, stepping forward, "Oh most likely. Let's go talk to those ones." She gestured to the sylphs near the red tent.

As the Company approached, they overheard snatches of conversation. Giants. Gunfire. Komuxio’s secret sauce. Nosey outlanders. They turn towards the group, now aware of their presence.

"Hm. I'll let you handle the talking." Muneshige huffed.

Zorah smiled, bowing her head to the two talkative Sylphs. "Hello! Might we inquire further about this gunfire?"

Aislinn raised a hand in greeting from just behind Zorah’s shoulder.

The sylph on the right crossed her arms. “Walking ones ask with much rudeness! This one prefers more polite company.”

"Polite or humorous? If I recall, you and yours prefer outlanders with hilarity to offer?" Lumarto said to the sylph in question.

Zorah’s ears flattened, the smile disappearing. "I do apologize," She spoke quickly, heat rising in her cheeks, letting Luma continue.

The slyph nodded eagerly at Lumarto. He seemed to have struck a chord.

Aislinn dropped her head. "Dancing. I bet it's dancing." she said under her breath.

Lumarto shuddered at the thought. "Dancing..." Luma said. He began doing his best impression of a dance he would do for his son Rohmio; ignoring the embarrassment.

Rolanda quickly joined in with a dance of her own. Aislinn watched the two for a moment before she inhaled a breath and steeled herself. It wasn’t that she couldn’t dance. She could. Very well. But it was rarely something she had done in the presence of others. But, dancing it would be. She joined in and like Lumarto, tried to ignore the embarrassment.

The slyph clapped her hands together excitedly. “Walking ones have pretty dances! What about those two?” She looked at Zorah and Muneshige who still had not joined the dance.

Muneshige was not going to dance. In fact, he began to distance himself. He didn’t want to be seen with these weirdos.

Lumarto tried staring over at Zhora amidst his dancing. "Hurry and dance so we can stop being in this ridiculous state..." Luma muttered, clearly at his edge.

Zorah shook her head and hurriedly joined the trio.

The slyph seemed appeased by the dancing. “Hehe, such moves. What can this one do for you?”

Aislinn stopped almost immediately, her cheeks aflame. "Oh, thank the Twelve."

Lumarto stopped dancing, and cleared his throat. "We were hoping you had some more information about that gunfire you heard? We're looking for... bad... outlanders?... Metal machinery, pirates, etcetera..." Luma said, questioning the sylph.

The slyph nodded. “This one has seen the green giants and their small, gun-bearing mascots. This one mostly stays out of the Sylphlands, but has an idea of the direction that they went.”

Rolanda noticed everyone had stopped dancing and stopped as well. "That was surprisingly fun."

Lumarto nodded to them, opening up a small journal and jotting down the Sylph's words. "And where did they go? Further northeast?"

Aislinn touched the back of a gloved hand to one heated cheek and then the other, listening intently to the exchange.

The sylph nodded again. “This one heard a big wind fly overhead, northeast. And then saw many of them enter and exit the Sylphlands.” The other slyph interjected. “And /this one/ saw a big group of them split from the rest! Deeper into the woods!”

The miqo’te nodded to them both, smiling lightly. He added the notes to his journal. "So two groups? Do you know where those groups might be now?" Lumarto asked.

"The ones that split away...perhaps they did so to start another ritual. Much like last time." Aislinn hummed in thought.

Lumarto nodded to the woman’s train of thought, agreeing with her.

Despite distancing himself, Muneshige still listened in on the information. If all else failed, he could just follow the group. The rumor about many somethings and a big creature...that sounded like it could be fun. Hopefully.

The two slyphs looked at each other, and then looked to the party. “This one...is uncertain. But this one can lead walking ones to where the split happened."

"Please if you wouldn't mind, you're being such a great help right now. I'll be sure to return by to repay the favour." Lumarto said, closing his journal and stashing it away.

One of the sylphs, the braver one by the looks of it, nodded. It fluttered ahead and beckoned for the party to follow. The other stayed behind.

As they ventured deeper into the Sylphlands, they all felt the air grow thicker. It was as if there were sparks in every breath. The slyph carefully helped the party avoid any monsters and patrols, and finally came to a halt at an intersection. “This one last saw the outlanders here. This one...is scared.” It looked left and right, and then fluttered back to the safety of Little Solace.

Aislinn turned and looked off to where the little slyph had left a trail of dust in their wake in their haste to return to Solace. "Well, then." she scanned the forest around them, keeping a careful eye out.

There were clearly two paths. One that headed further north, and another that headed east. Nothing but lush, deep forest surrounded the band, and all around them were the ominous sounds of aggressive wildlife and giggling sylphs, touched by Levin.

Lumarto made sure to thank the Sylph for its help before pressing against the pearl attached to his collar. "We followed a helpful sylph to where they last saw the potential pirates or garleans; basically, we have a lead. Two paths ahead of us with the differing states.” he reported to Momori.

Muneshige glanced down each path, the giggling more or less an irritant, "Well, pick a path. I've half a mind to just start cutting things down."

Somehow that came as no surprise to Aislinn.

A crackle. Momori’s voice came through. “I’m unfamiliar with the Sylphlands. Perhaps scout the area, or split the party?”

"Splitting sounds best, we can cover more ground and ease the search." Lumarto said, looking to the group for agreement; or for any issues.

"So who wants to interrupt a ritual and who wants to chase an airship?" Aislinn asked with a measure of black humor.

After some discussion it was decided. Khora, Muneshige, Zorah and Aislinn would track the airship while Lumarto and Rolanda would follow the pirates that had traveled north, further into the wood.

"Sounds good. Lumarot, we must be cautious, we won't have much backup." Rolanda told the miqo’te.

"Last time we encountered the airship it was chalk full of Pirates and Garleans, Muneshige. So you'll have your hands full." Lumarto informed the Raen. Most likely in a bid to advocate caution.

Muneshige nodded, "Finally, something of actual interest."

Aislinn glanced between Lumarto and Muneshige "Or....we could maybe not? Maybe reconnaissance first."

"-You- can do your recon. I'm not here to sit around." Muneshige returned loftily.

It had been worth a shot.

"Considering what you found back then, talking first is better if she's there." Lumarto said to Aislinn, offering a rather concerned look.

Aislinn returned the look and with that, the parties split, each following their own leads. Rolanda and Lumarto disappeared into the dark of the deeper forest heading north while the rest made their way east.

Lumarto held his hand to his collar, speaking with the group, his voice crackling over the linkpearl. "Remember, we need to take a picture with the device if we come across anything. Considering our numbers now, we should get a lot of evidence." He paused. "...Someone should probably take Muneshige's before he breaks it..."

Aislinn gave a derisive snort.

Zorah looked toward Mune, holding her hand out. "Hand it over."

Muneshige made no effort to keep the device to himself, and tossed it towards Zorah. "Take it. I've no interest in these...devices."

The Ritual

As Rolanda and Lumarto headed north, they could hear....footsteps through the undergrowth. Up ahead they could see a large patrol of pirate seawolves, transporting a large, covered cart. It was in that moment, the worst possible time, that Rolanda stepped on a stick. The pirates all looked towards the source of the sound.

Lumarto immediately held Rolanda back some, pulling her behind a nearby piece of lumber to hide their bodies from the nearby patrol. "Be careful next time... there are all sorts of natural traps like that lying around..." Luma said, catching a breath before letting out a soft sigh. "We're hidden, but we can't see much from here."

"I am normally quite agile, I do apologize. I will be quite careful. We need to get into a better position if we're to have any hope of discovering something useful." Rolanda whispered.

Lumarto nodded, peeking around the lumber and trying to best decide about their next choice of action.

The pirates muttered among themselves, unnerved. But they continued to travel north, lugging their heavy cargo close behind. For a moment, both Rolanda and Lumarto seemed to catch sight of something strange. Did something under the carriage's cloth covering just move?

"Good gravy that looked like a person in there! Let's follow them and see if we can stop this." she hissed.

"Follow them /carefully/" Luma added to Rolanda, choosing to stick to areas with cover as they tried to get a better look; or discern if their hunches were correct about the cart.

Rolanda glared at Luma's back as she creeps forward. "CAREFULLY!" she whispered to herself. She followed along a few paces behind the miqo’te.

As the two trail the cart without being noticed, they could overhear bits of idle chit chat exchanged between the pirates. “Don’t know why we go through all this trouble, finding special folk...but if Kurr says it's worth it, then it must be so.”

"So this answers the question of the contents... they are probably the source of kidnappings too..." Lumarto whispered over to Rolanda, "I don't know if they are more patrols up ahead, but if we both take one we can probably save a few souls... or just wait it out and find out more... I'd rather save a life if I could."

"Agreed. We have an opportunity to possibly save someone here, I think we need to take it. If we must flee afterwards, so be it. Perhaps we can be quiet and avoid alerting the others." Rolanda replied.

After a moment’s consideration, Lumarto turned to the Au Ra. "We can't just sneak and get them out... and there are only those two pirates... we need to act now before they meet up with more." he said, readying his rapier before pulling out a small focus by his hip. "What do you say?"

"I can start by loosing an arrow at the guards from cover, and you can move in and take them by surprise while they are distracted. What do you think?" Rolanda suggested.

"I think that sounds like a good enough idea, so let's go with that." Lumarto said, facing the group. "Shoot. I'll come from behind." he added, already breaking away from Rolanda as now was the time to act, not talk.

Rolanda drew a deadly looking arrow and nocked it silently. With a nod to Lumarto, she pulled back on the bowstring. She took a deep breath, and loosed an arrow at the first guard, quickly moving to draw a second to mop up whatever remains.

Lumarto approached from behind, dashing forward as Rolanda fired. His rapier impaled the distracted pirate from behind.

The element of surprise was on the pair’s side. Rolanda’s arrow pinned the pirate to the ground, while Luma’s thrust hit true. They weren’t dead, but they were pinned to the ground by the blows. “Aye! Leviathan’s scaly arse!”

Before they were given a chance to call for aid or make more noise; Lumarto held his focus to the butt of his rapier and hurled a rough rock to both heads of the pirates to knock them out cold. The effort saw to it that both of the pirates were knocked out cold.

"That's that." Luma said, sighing some as he sheathed his rapier before quickly hopping atop the cart. "Lets see here.." he carefully took hold of the ends of the tarp before lifting it slowly to the side.

Underneath the tarp were two hyur, their arms and legs bound. Both had a sack over their heads, and feebly struggled against their bindings. As clear as daylight, a brand on each of their wrists. Purple, and the symbol of lightning etched in the center.

He stared at the two in the cart, carefully taking the sacks off their heads to let them get adjusted to the light before offering a sigh of relief. "We're here to help, hold on." he explained, taking a knife from his belt and cutting one hyur's bindings off; moving onto the next after the first had been freed.

"I can take these hyur to safety if you can help me carry them to the edge of the camp. My whale should easily be able to hold us all" Rolanda said as she shouldered her bow.

Lumarto nodded to Rolanda, then glanced back at the hyurs. "That would help, but we gotta be careful still." he said as he checked the two over.

The two hyur flopped around, as if struggling on instinct. But they seemed to be in a trance of some sort, violet eyes aglow. One of them muttered vacantly... “She calls for us...Our lady.”

"This doesn't look good. I doubt we will be able to keep them quiet" Rolanda murmured.

Lumarto nodded. "I'm not about to cover their heads again with the sack, but we have to try our best to get them away from here at least... This kind of trance is not going to go away immediately; especially in this highly aetheric area." he said, carefully taking one of them and carrying them on his back. "Try your best to carry them, if we struggle you go and fetch your whale and I'll wait for you."

Rolanda did as he said and carefully lifted the other hyur over her shoulders. "Let's get out of here."

As they made their escape they could hear the faint sounds of fighting and gunfire in the distance. It sounded as if the other party had run up against Red Argos in a bad way.

And indeed they had. While Lumarto and Rolanda were freeing the victims they had found from the clutches of the pirates, the party of four had tracked the airship headed east, and had managed to hide just as they came upon a small patrol of garleans and pirates making their rounds.

From their hiding spot, Aislinn peered further into the forest. Patrols appeared to be staggered all along the route ahead. She could see bodies moving between the ancient trees.

"Suppose the airship lies that-a-way." she said quietly before looking back towards the others. "If we stay to the shadows we should be able to get closer. If we're quiet." she added, eyeing Muneshige like he was a loose cannon.

For his part, Khora made every effort to remain quiet upon Aislinn's recommendation. "If there is anything one should know about me, it's that I'm am not very discrete." He admitted before quickly following Aislinn’s glance toward Muneshige. "Yeah we're screwed..."

She inhaled a breath. Was the quiet and subtle way even worth it? "Or...some of us could cause a distraction while the others slip through?" she suggested.

The Raen of course, cared not for stealth. He stood from the grass and began walking towards the thick of it, utterly unafraid of the sheer number of soldiers. He drew his blade and stuck it into the ground, "Hey hey HEY! What's goin' on here?!" He -bellowed-, throwing away all subtlety, "Looks like there's a party here, and I wasn't invited?!"

"Gods." Aislinn hung her head and wiped a hand over her face in utter exasperation. “Right. Guess we're going with option #2.”

From her hiding place next to Aislinn, Zorah's ears flattened. "It's always an Au ra...." She muttered, shaking her head.

The ink upon Khora’s arms began to burn a bright orange, and with a flick of his wrist, so did the steel of his blade. "And here we go!" The Miqo'te yelled at the top of his lungs while lunging forward.

The patrol turned to look at Muneshige and Khora, before exchanging bewildered looks. Who were these random guys, challenging them to battle? It was suspicious, either way. The two dressed in Garlean blacks drew their guns, while a seawolf pirate drew a rapier. The last pirate hung in the back, making a call on a peculiar black linkpearl.

Aislinn resolutely stayed where she was, low to the ground, hiding. If the Raen wanted to call down every garlean and pirate in the area, she wasn't going to stop him. She was, however, going to wait for her window of opportunity. Idiot.

"Alright, let's get to business! Akaitaiyo thirsts for blood!" Muneshige yanked the sword from the ground and charged in with Khora, finally something interesting was happening!

The garleans fired off their guns at Muneshige, while the pirate dashed towards Khora, rapier drawn.

Muneshige charged -directly- towards the closest gunner he could find, apparently caring not if he got shot, winding back his blade and swinging wide and hard, with enough force to cleave through bone. The bullets simply glance off what little armor he wore, causing minor bleeding in his side.

Deft was perhaps the wrong word in which to define Khora’s movements. He still needed work on his up-front-and-personal skills. The pirate's ability with the rapier caused Khora to stumble back and nice little poke upon his left arm.

As the scuffle began in earnest, Aislinn took advantage of the chaos to nod at Zorah and moved low through the undergrowth, maneuvering further into the wood. The Seeker nodded and followed behind her, keeping low to the ground.

With the help of the boys’ distraction, Aislinn and Zorah made it past the occupied patrols and soon found themselves deeper into the woods. They found a place to hide, which overlooked a /large/ gathering of garleans and pirates. Below, next to the grounded airship were also two elezen with their heads covered, surrounded by several open crates of ...flower petals?

Zorah looked down at the gathering, slowly taking in the scene before her. Seeing the crates of flower petals, at least she hoped that was what they were, she immediately had the urge to jump in them. She kept her composure, however, ears flickering as she listened around her. It was then that she finally noticed the two that looked like possible prisoners and glanced questioningly at Aislinn.

The highlander leaned forward, peering down at the gathering with a flummoxed expression. Flower petals? "The brands we've seen have petals but...I assumed it was symbolic." she murmured to Zorah. Aiming her aetheric linkpearl at the gathering, she snapped a picture and continued observing the activity below.

One of the Garleans put his hand to his ear, and afterward, directed a large patrol of pirates and men away from the camp. The ones that stayed behind quickly begin to usher one of the prisoners onto the ship. They seemed to be making preparations for a quick liftoff.

Zorah leaned forward, ready to push herself off the ground as the group left. "Now, we can get in and out quickly between the two of us."

Aislinn eyed the activity below. "Nymeia's Blood." she cursed, under her breath. Pressing the linkpearl she attempted to alert Khora. "There are a lot more headed your way." she said before nodding to Zorah. "Let's go."

Disturbingly, there was no reply forthcoming to her warning. She tried not to think of why that might be as she and Zorah slid down the overlook and snuck towards the airship. But Zorah clearly thought the same, as she kept glancing back towards where they had left Khora and Muneshige, trying not to feel sick to her stomach.

It was then that they heard the explosions. They came from the direction of the fight. Aislinn turned toward the sound in alarm. Glancing towards Zorah, she hesitated. Torn. The dogged part of her wanted to press on. It hadn’t been her decision to charge the bloody patrols, after all. Damn it all. She gritted her teeth and continued on, sneaking into the camp, and headed straight for the crate of flower petals. Zorah’s ears flicked as if they were on swivels, listening to every little sound as the two crept close to the crates.

From their vantage point they could see that Red Argos had moved one of the prisoners onto the ramp of the airship, but the prisoner was putting up quite the fight, and distracting the remaining gunners. The other remained by the flowers, sobbing silently.

Zorah had grabbed one of the crates, pausing as she heard the sobbing close by. She felt and overwhelming need to return to the fight immediately, but she couldn't just leave this one here. She glanced toward Aislinn as she set the crate down, reaching for the hood over the prisoner's head, ready to shush him before he'd give away their presence.

The hooded elezen turned towards the sound of shushing, but he couldn’t see anything due to the bag over his head. Meanwhile, they could hear the angry yells, echoing throughout the airship, and heard a few words. “Hurry...Just go...We’ll find more...It’s about to begin!”

Those words sounded like they were out of time. The smart thing to do would be to take some of the petals and go. But Aislinn found she just...couldn’t. She gave a sharp shake of her head and reached out, grabbing the hooded victim by the wrist. "Please. Listen. Stay quiet and come with us. We can get you out of here." she whispered hurriedly.

Zorah took only a handful of petals, and then helped the prisoner up to his feet.

The victim allowed himself to be dragged to somewhere hidden, and not one second later, four gunners dashed out of the ship. Upon seeing that the other prisoner is no longer by the crates, they let out a string of curses, and instead busy themselves by moving the crates of flowers onto the ship. The ship flickered, rose into the air and then disappeared, the cloaking enabled. A strong gust of wind, and they were gone…

From their hiding spot, Aislinn watches the ship flicker and disappear. She lets go a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. That was close.

Zorah glanced back as the airship disappeared, pressing her lips together before turning back to Aislinn and their one rescued prisoner. "We need to check on the guys." She spoke quietly.

Aislinn looked to Zorah and nodded. "Go. I'll help this one and follow as soon as I can." she said, reaching up to undo the hood that still blinded the elezen.

Zorah nodded and without wasting a moment she raced back toward where the fighting had been, "Khora?!" She yelled out as she ran, looking through the disheveled earth they had been fighting on. Her ears flickered slightly, hearing familiar voices and following them until she eventually came upon Muneshige and Khora. "What the hells..." Zorah growled.

Both of the men looked worse for wear but Khora clearly took the brunt of the fighting. He lay in the grass, clutching his side and bleeding from a number of rapier cuts.

"Don't worry too much, he's alive. Might not have made it if I hadn't ran back here with him, had a whole firing squad on our tails." Muneshige smirked up at the woman from his spot next to Khora, "Can't say I've been shot this many times."

Zorah’s ears flattened at Muneshige’s words, as she knelt between them. One hand came to lay on Khora gently while she looked over the Au ra's own body. "Well, you can say that now, I suppose." she shook her head with a sigh, "We need to get you both to the medics. Those bullets need to come out of you." Zorah turned to Khora, pressing her lips together. "Are you -trying- to die?"

Khora struggled to raise his arm, trembling as it extended upward to give a thumbs up. "I'm okay!" There was an obvious strain in his voice.

This elicited a grin from Zorah and she rolled her eyes at his comment. "Yeah, you look like shit, actually."

Khora trembled amidst a weak bout of laughter. "Yeah, well I feel like shit." Blood ran down his arm and soaked at the cloth of his outfit from the stab wounds.

It was then that Momori’s voice crackled over the linkpearls. "Lumarto. What's your status?"

"We stopped a cart from hauling two Hyur prisoners further into the Sylphlands and are currently carrying them back to the entrance." Luma said, the effort in his voice lending credence to his words. "They seem to be in a trance; violet eyes, lightning brand on their wrist, probably because of the lightning aspect in these woods." He continued, glancing at his side where Rolanda was holding her own as they just made it to Little Solace.

“A brand and violet eyes....?” There was a long pause from Momori’s side. “Like Inga.”

"Inga has amber eyes, do you think their eye color is related to their aspect?" He added. He was muddled with thoughts and kept trying to figure out the links; he had his own side mission in all of this after all.

Momori. Aislinn. Lumarto. It seemed each of them had their own goals in all of this.

“She has the mark of earth. Perhaps...” Momori was cut off as everyone in the area around the Sylphlands found themselves caught in a sudden and violent earthquake!

The tremors tore at the earth, pulling ancient trees upward in the shifting topography. As if that wasn’t enough, a foul wind picked up, whipping through the dark forest. One dripping with lightning.

Rolanda and Lumarto stumbled in their race to safety.

Muneshige jolted as the earth beneath him suddenly heaved, his pain now twofold with all the shaking, "GRAGGH! Kami forfend what is this?!" The wind picked up, and the sound of thunder followed, "Is this some kind of calamity...?" He couldn't tell what was going on now, what was happening?

Zorah quickly knelt to the ground as the earth shook. "I ... I don't think so.."

Further east, Aislinn and the elezen man were taken by surprise. "Seven hells!"

Aislinn’s first instinct was to hit the ground but the groaning and cracking of the ancient trees around her quickly divested her of that idea. Instead she reached into her pack and tossed her battered gemstone in the air. When her carbuncle popped into existence, she wasted no time explaining and simply pulled the elezen onto it after her and took to the air.

The two victims Lumarto and Rolanda had saved began to twitch violently, bodies contracting in an unnatural manner. They screamed to be returned! For an end of suffering! Something...was released from them. A torrent of lightning aether flew out from each of them and shot to the north. And afterwards - they went limp. They breathed, but they may as well have been dolls.

Lumarto had held tightly onto the Hyur. The spastic shuddering and screams caused his ears to sharply curl, paining him to hear the shrieks. The high concentration of aether sent a tingling sensation up his back before he felt the body grow limp. He worried immediately for their well being before hearing their breath. "We have to hurry, I don't like the sound of this!" Luma exclaimed, trying to set a faster pace for Hawthorn Hut.

After what seemed to be forever, the earthquake finally stilled. A tense calm returned to the forest, and all the parties had time to catch their breath. But, to the aetherically sensitive, they could feel that the land had changed. Scars that were felt but unseen.

Aislinn tried not to focus on it at the moment, instead steering her carbuncle towards the safety of Hawthorn Hut to deposit her passenger and ask if it would be alright if she returned later to ask him some questions.

Understandably, the elezen seemed extremely shaken. As she landed just outside the main building of the outpost, he dismounted and fell to his knees almost immediately. But he nodded in reply to her request. “Of course, my lady...my savior.” He looked incredibly grateful, but sad as Aislinn helped him to his feet and guided him into the safety of the hut and one of the waiting beds. “...they took my sister. Since you saved me, perhaps on your travels you might...?”

Aislinn looked up, her eyes meeting Lumarto’s as she sat the elezen down. The miqo’te stood his own vigil over two unresponsive bodies lying in their own beds. "Another one?..." Lumarto said, clearly looking troubled as he glanced at the two Hyur. "The two I saved are speechless after that quake..."

The elezen's words left Aislinn with a stricken expression. His sister. She could only imagine what she would do if something like that had happened to Ren. Her recent bouts of flaring temper would be nothing in comparison. A quaint tempest in a teapot.

She shook her head. "I...yes. Yes, of course. We're..." she tried to order her thoughts and reminded herself she needn’t put herself so far in the man’s shoes. "The Company I work for. We're tracking these pirates. I will try my best to find your sister." she said, softening the edges from her voice. "For now...try to rest. I'll visit you and we can talk more later."

“Sorry, I was interrupted by another quake...The others dropped off their pearls at the company. What is your location?” Momori came through on the pearl.

"Hawthorne Hut, we managed to rescue three of the four prisoners; an elezen and two hyurs. We're just leaving them with the menders here for safekeeping at the moment." Luma replied before looking over to the Elezen in the bed who could speak. "We'll come back later like Aislinn said... for now rest, we'll try and get everything sorted out."

In the middle of everything, Lumarto stepped back a bit to get both the Elezen and the two Hyurs in frame for a pearl capture; the Elezen sitting up and shaken while the two Hyurs remained motionless; their brands visible in the picture. "We have some pearls for you too, should deem helpful."

The elezen weakly nodded at Aislinn and Luma, but he showed the two of them his wrist. “They put my sister and I in some sort of...dream. I can’t describe it, but after I woke, I found this on my body.” A light teal marking, easy to make out on his dark skin. A symbol of ice, but markedly simpler than the others they had seen. No wings surround this one…

The highlander woman glanced down at the mark before passing Lumarto a meaningful look. It appeared they had some inkling as to where the pirates were headed next.

Lumarto nodded over to her in response, "Try and keep that hidden... we aren't sure its importance yet, but for now it may be a bad target on you." he said, reaching into his pocket and handing the man a small woven bracelet; blue fabric twisted into itself. "Wear this around your marked wrist, and just rest; when those other two wake just let them know to also rest and relax, either of us will return to check on you and make sure you're safe."

The elezen nodded, accepting the bracelet and winding it tightly around his wrist. “Yes, I...” He looked at the two sleeping hyur. ”I don’t know who they are, but I’ll take good care of them.”

With that, Aislinn and Lumarto gave the man parting words of comfort but once outside the hut, their troubled expressions returned. They didn’t need to put it into words. They each knew there was more trouble ahead. This whole thing would get worse before it, hopefully, got better. If they succeeded. If.

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #ffxiv crystal rp #Heartwood plots #Into the Tempest #momori mori #Lumarto Wetyios #Rolanda Deschain #Muneshige Hakuuchi #Aislinn North #Zorah Velaceras #khora velaceras

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randombtsprincessa · 5 years

Text

Blind Spot | Amour Propre Finale

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Min Yoongi x Reader

Words: 5.6k

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Summary: Yoongi tries to win you back.

A/N:The few asks for Amour Propre sequel have led to this! I tried to make it as realistic as I could!

The soft creaks of the swings had never seemed so despondent and distracting to Yoongi before. No, before, even when his loneliness crept up, it was a given; nothing very special, he felt lonely; there had been the soft sounds of the swings accompanying him, acting as a white noise as he scribbled in his pocket book.

Because, somehow in the near silent, surrounded by nothing and no one, his loneliness eased.

It was strange, how being alone could make you feel not so alone. People did have that superpower. The more there were, around you, surrounding you, the more the possibility that you would be alone, amidst people who claimed to care about you.

The boisterous laughter of his brothers was probably one of the rare things that could make him glance up from his solitary place on the couch; cast a cursory eye over them, just to make sure no one broke anything, especially Namjoon. Sometimes, he would catch Jimin’s near closed eyes, Taehyung’s excited puppy eyes or deep soulful ones of his trusted leader. Sometimes, Jungkook, the little brat would tug at his shirt, pulling him into their rough housing, or Jin or Hoseok would break away to sit down next to him, panting.

Those times, his fondness eased the dark corners of his mind.

Even then, there were times when he couldn’t write in his studio and needed something extra.

The far off swing set near the Agency building had been an accident find, shoes scuffing as he walked around aimlessly, the pages of unfinished lyrics weighing heavy in his pocket.

The creaks had been a huge help.

That had been before meeting her. Meeting her had reduced the creaks to the background, stealing the spotlight till it shone solely on her. Her presence became the buffer, the puffs of her exhales lending him the inspiration needed to fill up formerly frozen words.

She had melted and embossed herself in his writing schedule in a way that he had felt, deep while he tried to put melody to words, that he looked forward to her soft chatter, before silence wrapped around them again as she basked in the cool night breeze, his presence lending her security while he used the time to write.

Sometimes, he wondered if maybe he had taken more than he had ever thought of giving.

Yoongi looked up, the pole stretching across overhead before glancing to the empty swing next to him. His feet had dug into the soft sand underneath, swinging himself to hear the light creaks only this time, the one next to him remained unmoving, unoccupied.

And his mind…his mind was anything but…

He looked down at the empty book trying hard not to let flashbacks take over his mind again, knowing there wasn’t much that would come from them.

The stranger coming to sit next to him, the light banter, a surprising insight, walking her home and her name…

Yoongi squeezed the pen in his hand, veins bulging over his knuckles as images changed, shifting through time until he was standing in his empty home; no, not a home anymore…

Flowers lay crumpled at his feet, eyes fixed on a still keychain near the door.

While he stood, left alone…

Yoongi stopped swinging before he could do any damage, either by hurting his hand if he snapped the pen or ripped any important pages from his book.

His temper was one of the less attractive qualities of him and if nothing else, he was determined to control it, after all, it had done him nothing but harm in turn.

Getting to his feet was surprisingly easy, considering he hadn’t felt like moving for days now, not when he had dumped his body onto his couch and let himself stay there for hours, staring straight forward, unmoving…

The walk back was familiar now.

Yoongi’s feet had memorized many paths; the one to his studio, the dorm, his house…he could find his way with eyes blindfolded and had never found his feet weighed but he felt it now, the slowness, and the agitation of going to an empty apartment.

His key slid in, the metal slotting in because what did a non living thing know of separation? It was him that had left this place on the pretext of work, not wanting to come back when she asked him to. Now that she was gone, he was always here, waiting…hoping…

His hand reached up to put the keychain up on the hook, looking to the side where her key swung, lonely like him, left behind.

Yoongi sighed, bringing his hands up to his temples, rubbing out the rising signs of a headache.

He stopped once he reached the bedroom passage, eyes falling on the key hook along the front door.

On the last hook swung her house key, along with a wooden I <3 Yoongi key chain.

Yoongi’s brow sweated eyes wide as he stared, stricken at the keychain. She’d gotten it at Han River, as a joke, teasing him but he’d been immovable, making her put it on the house key permanently, as a show that she was his forever.

She’d left the key behind…with the keychain.

Yoongi’s fingers loosened around the stems, the flower falling to the floor with a delicate and sad flump.

Jin had been right.

Yoongi had lost her.

Stumbling forward a little, he moved to the key hook, a long fingered hand raising to brush his name carved in soft wood, the light sheen on it evidence as to how carefully she’d maintained it.

Something tugged in his chest, a phantom pain that stirred slowly, shuffling in some unknown depth of his body.

He snatched his hand away as if the wood burned him, turning away quickly, eyes wide and rapidly blinking.

No, there must’ve been some mistake…it had to be an accident, a mishap on her part, an overlook.

The calls started after fifteen minutes of waiting, waiting to see if she’d rush back in, hair a little messy and cheeks red. That she’d somehow cajole him, getting over her surprise of seeing him there before her arms wrapped around him, and then he would offer his apology, maybe even scold her a bit because she scared him, and that was never ok.

He picked up the flowers, one of the flowers crushed under his foot but he’d tried his best, unearthing a vase in your favorite color, adding water and whatnot, while the other hand tried to fluff up the crushed bud as best as he could.

The door didn’t open, staying shut and he’d picked up his phone, starting the long process of dialing her number and waiting, with the ring going…and going, and going…and then the cheerful start of her voicemail.

He’d tried her three times, before giving up, wondering if it was a good idea to call her parents.

No, they were a world away with no way to help him.

He considered her friends, trying to scroll through his contacts when an oddity struck him.

He didn’t know any of her friends. He had no way to contact them; he had no clue as to who they even were individually. Maybe it was something to do with the secrecy of his relationship, he had had no reason to delve into her world while she knew almost all of his because she had to…well she had to stay away from them.

He winced.

He had never thought that maybe it was unfair, knowing it was what came of dating him and she had never complained and he had never asked.

Looking down at his useless phone, he felt that he should’ve at least listened when she spoke of them. At least he would have some sort of name to look for.

Showing up at her workplace would absolutely not do. No matter how much he wanted to drive over to the office building, hang around till he could ask someone if they knew her, he knew it would result in catastrophe, for her, for him, for the boys, for everyone…

He looked forlornly at the flowers. The crushed flower, oddly reminded him of his situation.

He walked lethargically to the couch before dropping heavily onto it, arms on his legs and shoulders slumped.

And so, Min Yoongi admitted defeat…

Yoongi’s fingers stopped roving his head, eyes snapping open as he looked around his bare apartment again only this time a sense of panic was overtaking him.

There was no way he could stay here.

The bed hadn’t lost her scent yet, and the way he slept, curling into his own side while looking at hers, had intermingled their smells, torturing him with the reminder of how it should’ve been…how it could’ve been…

The kitchen appliances wouldn’t work properly for him, as if they knew he was responsible for their loving owner to leave.

The bathtub, too big for one person mocked him with all the times he’d held her in it, soft wet skin pressed against each other, the hot water and steam releasing tensions trapped from two different lives.

He would go mad. No, he would rather go mad than live here and be tormented all day every day with her memories, her absence.

Spinning around, he grabbed his key again, his jerky movement jolting her untouched keychain and he grasped it too, yanking it off roughly before shoving it in his pocket and rushing out the door.

It had been a good bit into early morning or late night when a sleep puffed eyed Jimin opened the door to the dorm, wondering who was trying to get into the house.

Yoongi struggled to stay quiet, fingers that had frozen cold in the night air shaky as he held onto the small key.

“Hyung,” he winced, looking into the worried eyes of Jimin, “what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I’m coming home.” The snappy reply bubbled involuntarily from Yoongi’s mouth, prompting Jimin’s eyebrows to shoot up but he respectfully drew away, leaving Yoongi to shuffle into the dorm.

Yoongi watched as the younger man slowly walked away, his pajamas ruffled and closed the door of the room he shared with Hoseok, all the while pretending to undo his shoes. As soon as he heard the click of the bolt, he moved to sit on the couch, the position that was becoming painfully familiar to him molding his body.

Head bowed, arms hanging, he wondered if this was a good idea.

What if she decided to come back? What would happen then? No one was around to let her in and he had taken her key…

If she somehow managed to get in what would she think about her absent key? Would she think he’d moved on? Would that make her give up completely?

He knew these were baseless thoughts. She wasn’t coming back. She hardly did anything without thinking about it and she wouldn’t have left her key behind if she had planned to come back.

No, the key was a message. Not only was she leaving the house, she was leaving him behind as well.

Yoongi’s first reaction might not have gone to anger but it definitely was rising now. What was she playing at? He was going to apologize! He was going to give her flowers, make her something special if need be and she just…up and left?

What kind of tomfoolery –

He stopped short when the uncomfortable pang pulsed through his chest again, stopping his ire short and conjuring images that he’d thought didn’t bother him.

Soft smiled fading away due to something he said…

Private frowns that were quickly smoothed out when he entered the kitchen…

Words that slowed and then stopped flowing when his interest was obviously not garnered…

Dinners found on the plate and then in the trash on the rare occasion he came home…

Crumpled papers with scrawled numbers that had first made him burn with jealousy before he had convinced himself it didn’t matter because they were crumpled for a reason.

Then finally, one choked voice and a trembling face that he knew but hadn’t bothered to see, the last time he would see her.

Now they all gutted him, stabbing his stomach with a dull knife.

He thought of all the numbers again, and while the green head of jealousy snaked through him again, he knew there was a good chance she’d find someone…someone to take care of her the way he had never even bothered to.

With a last sigh, he stood up again, and slowly dragged himself to the one place he knew he could fester in peace.

“Has anybody spoken to Yoongi Hyung recently?” Jimin asked nervously, a few days later, breakfast seeing six boys around the large table, grabbing anything that grabbed their fancy.

“Didn’t he move back?” Namjoon asked.

“He showed up a few nights ago, saying he was coming home and I…I just let him be, you know.” Jimin was met by silent stares.

“Hyung is here? I haven’t seen him once.” Taehyung said.

“I haven’t heard from Y/N too.” Hoseok said slowly.

“Did they have a fight? He gets moody when he fights.” Jungkook offered, the straw of his milk box hanging out the side of his mouth.

“I…I think it might be more serious than that.” Jimin said finally before looking imploringly at their eldest, who stood at the stove, back tense.

“Hyung, go talk to him.” he said.

Jin didn’t turn around to answer, he just shrugged, “Fine, I’ll go see what’s up after breakfast. He’s more than likely locked himself up in his studio again.” He tried to sound light, but away from the eyes of his member, his teeth dug nervously into his lip.

A few hours later, Jin was knocking on the glass door of Genius Lab, prepared to be ignored and fully taken aback when a quiet grunt called out, “Who is it?”

“Open the door Yoongi,” Jin said, palm hitting the glass again before he was met with a pause and then the buzz of the door unlocking.

Jin had been into Genius Lab more than a handful of times, Yoongi not being as primitive as he portrayed. He had seen the blocked stage of Yoongi reflected in the shades of the room, air conditioner on full blast while he curled up in one corner, notebook clutched in his lap.

He’d seen the manic inspired Yoongi, computer and all its equipment running while he rolled his chair to and fro from his sheet music and back, putting in cords and beats.

This…well, Jin didn’t have an emotion he could label this with.

Yoongi was on the small futon he kept for sleeping in the studio, feet sprawled away from himself while he lay back. The black screen that read SUGA was shut, his keyboard covered and table with papers thrown across them.

This was…disuse.

Yoongi had clearly been doing nothing in here.

“What…have you been doing?” Jin knew he had to be careful, judging by the room there was no work going on but the near black rings under Yoongi’s eyes also told him that he wasn’t sleeping.

“Nothing…” His friend mumbled.

“Oh and why is that?” He kept his tone conversational.

“Don’t feel like it,”

“Hmm,” Jin moved to the chair, pulling it out and swinging it around to look at the slumped man in front of him. “What happened to you?” He asked.

Yoongi didn’t even glance up. “Nothing happened.”

“Bullshit, you leave the dorm for three days, we all thought you and Y/N made up and you moved back home. Then you show up here late at night and then dash right back out and live here apparently, don’t even talk to us. So I’m going to ask again; what the fuck happened?”

Jin watched with uncertainty as Yoongi’s jaw twitched at Y/N’s name. “Is…is it Y/N? Did you not make up? Is she alright?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Jin gripped his nose. “Yoongi, man up, spit it out, what happened?”

Yoongi finally looked up, an odd glint in his eye.

“You were right. I lost her Hyung. She’s gone. When I went back that day to apologize, she wasn’t there…she wasn’t – wasn’t home. She’s left me and gone and I have no clue where she is, or who with. I didn’t know who to call…I don’t – I don’t know anything about her Hyung.”

Jin’s mouth dropped open when Yoongi finished, slumping back after the tirade. Yoongi took a deep breath before he closed his eyes, a thin streak of moisture finally making its way to the surface, running down his cheek before it was quickly wiped away.

“But…why?” Jin choked out.

Yoongi chuckled, a lifeless sound. “You don’t know what happened that day, do you?” He narrated the damned day as he remembered it, all his poison regurgitated for Jin to scoff at.

“I told her I didn’t need her. What a fucking moron I am,”

“Moron…? No, Yoongi-ssi, you are a goddamned asshole who doesn’t deserve her. This isn’t the first time, right? Don’t think I don’t know all those times you’ve put her down, abandoned her when one of us had to pick up your slack so she wouldn’t look like a fool. I can’t believe I told her to give you a chance and you threw it right back in our faces. I’m glad she left you.”

Yoongi gaped wordlessly as the older man stood up, a dark sneer twisting his features. “You…you told her what?” He asked.

Jin ignored him, turning to leave with a disgusted snort but Yoongi was done acting tough.

“Hyung, you have to help me find her.” He said. Jin gave him a wide eyed look. “I don’t have to do anything for you.”

“No please, this is insane. I can’t focus without her, I was stupid. I’ve been stressing and I…I put my career before her. I thought she was more of a hindrance to what I’d built but she was the inspiration. Jin please, I need her. I was mad to say I didn’t and I shouldn’t have taken her for granted.”

Jin watched him for a second before shaking his head.

“No, I don’t think so. Once before, I asked her to lay down for you and you ran over her. She’s my friend too you know, I care for her.” He moved to the door again.

Yoongi struggled to his feet. He was done acting tough.

“Jin Hyung please, you have to help me, I can’t live like this!”

Jin paused again without turning around.

“I’ll do anything; anything, just to see her; one last time if it comes to that. I’ll back off if she doesn’t want me. I just need to see her one time. Just say what I need to and then I’ll leave her alone. Please,” he begged his hand landing on his brother’s arm.

Jin’s muscles tensed under his touch, before he was sighing, looking around to Yoongi.

“I don’t know where she is…but I might be able to find out. You’ll have to do exactly as I say.”

The diner Jin had called you to, was familiar for all the wrong reasons.

For one, it was one of those hole-in-the-wall places Yoongi liked to visit, or take you to if it was one of those rare days.

When Jin had called, cheerful and asked you why you had been so distant, you’d felt guilty, knowing that cutting Yoongi off had in a way cut you off from the boys due to the secrecy of it but you were determined not to let it be so.

He had sounded hesitant, asking about the diner but you’d eased him up, after all, it was just some diner one of your ex boyfriends took you to. Well, granted Yoongi was THE ex boyfriend but no matter…

You planned to tell Jin about your break up and try to get back to normal with the rest of the boys at least.

Now standing in front of the diner, you stared at the neon sign stating the diner’s name with no mean amount of foreboding bubbling in your gut.

You knew it was most likely baseless, just previous memories trying to unsettle you and get you to bolt. So you kept your head up and walked in.

The décor was the same as well, not much had changed in the last year you had stopped coming here.

Glancing down to your phone to see if Jin had texted you, you looked around for a free booth when a voice called for you, raising goose bumps upon your skin.

Very slowly you turned, your eyes finding the dark mocha ones of THE ex boyfriend.

It was safe to say you had been hit by a bus.

Numerous emotions passed through you, too fast for you to catch one. Shock at seeing him looking up at you, horror at being caught like this, then suspicion and finally anger that you had been duped into seeing Min Yoongi…

Kim Seokjin had better run for his life.

Finally when you had some semblance of grip on your rampant feelings, you took a deep breath, freezing whatever part of heart that ached at the sight of him.

You would not show weakness to the man who had blatantly exploited it once upon a time.

Facing him again, you plastered on the coldest, most polite smile you could muster.

“Yoongi, nice to see you again.”

The man in front of you was changed.

You didn’t know what it was or how to put a finger on it but you knew this wasn’t the man you had left.

The Yoongi you had known was a man who was rough around the edges, had a warm core but rarely ever let it out. At least, that was who you had fallen in love with. Slowly, the warm core had hardened, freezing everyone, especially you. He’d been snappish, sharp, with no leeway to give to you and you had had enough.

This man, however, he fumbled with his fingers, the tablecloth, mumbled his coffee order and his ears and cheeks were flushed with nervous red. He wouldn’t even meet your eye for more than a few seconds at a time but at the same time he would glance over your face more than he had ever done before.

“So,” you said.

“I just,” he began.

Both of you stopped, looking at each other in silence for a few seconds before you unraveled your arms, motioning for him to go ahead, watching him closely.

“Um, so,” Yoongi paused yet again, looking down with his lips moving. You could clearly hear a few muttered curses.

“Where’s Jin?” you decided to ask.

Yoongi jerked before looking up with wide eyes. “He…well, he’s not coming.”

“Why not,”

Yoongi looked downright embarrassed. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Yes, but you never asked if I wanted to talk to you, you thought, scrunching your eyebrows a little. Could it have been a ploy? Did Yoongi steal Jin’s phone to ask you here?

“So, I wanted to talk to you about what happened that day.”

You looked away as the waiter arrived, placing your drinks in front of you, a simple black for him and a cappuccino for you. Yoongi sighed, tapping his fingers, letting the woman walk away a good distance before turning to you again.

“Is Jin ok? Any reason why he can’t make it…?”

“No, he’s fine. Look, Y/N, when I got home you weren’t there.” He said finally.

You tilted your head up. “Oh, so you noticed,”

Yoongi frowned. “Of course I noticed; how could I not?”

“Well, you didn’t need me. So, I’m wondering why you would want to ask this question now. Are you sure Jin can’t make it, because I should probably check, just in case.”

A sense of cold vindication lapped at you, filling you with vile satisfaction at seeing Yoongi’s face turn apoplectic. You began to delve in your purse, fingers fishing out your phone to text Jin, that he was dead the next time, if ever, you saw him.

Even before your fingers could swipe the screen on, rough fingers grabbed the top of the gadget, knocking it down your hand so it fell, clattering to the table.

You looked up immediately, irritation making your eyes flare and snap at him but Yoongi had already leant in, tightly gripping your wrist so you couldn’t pull away.

His face had bypassed red, shading towards purple now, as he almost bent over the table, trying to leer into your face. His eyes were reduced to slits, small lips pulled over his teeth. “I walked into my home; ready to apologize to the woman I love with her favorite flowers. I walked into an empty apartment with your things gone and no way to contact you. I spent the whole night waiting, awake, so you would maybe walk in and put me at ease. I stared at your damn key with that damn keychain mocking me for three days. You’re still there, Y/N. That house, it is you. I can’t be in there without you. I begged Jin to help me find you and now that you’re here, now that I want to talk to you, all you can think of is Jin? Is that what you care about in this situation? Because I think,”

“I don’t care what you think.”

Yoongi stopped short, eyes popping wider when he saw the surprise pooling straight out of your face, leaving it cool and expressionless.

You snatched your hand out of his grip, letting his hand fall to the table.

“I could care less about what you think, Min Yoongi. You spent three days waiting for me? I spent five. I spent five days waiting for you to show up on the doorstep of our home. I gave you five days even after deciding that I was going to leave. Why? Because I loved you, I loved you so much that the idea of leaving you immediately hurt me, so I waited. I would stay awake till three in the morning on the couch sometimes because that’s when you would come home. So, don’t give me shit about waiting. You begged Jin to help you? I had to take a whole interrogation from my best friend about why I was at her place at midnight because I left on the sixth day of you not coming over. You didn’t have to even come over, Yoongi. You could’ve called. You could’ve texted. Hell, I’d have taken a face book poke. You did nothing.”

Yoongi opened his mouth but you weren’t done yet.

“And you’re right about not needing me, I just didn’t realize it; I don’t need you either. You don’t even know anything about me. I learned to live without you and now I see all the things that I was doing when you were in my life, is no different to what I’m doing now. I work, I hang out with my friends, I come home, albeit I don’t have one of my own anymore but I’m working on it. So I am,”

“I do need you.”

Yoongi finally spoke; quiet affirmation sent your way that had you stuttering over your last sentence.

“I am the one who actually needs you. You calm me, you inspire me, and you’re my quiet. You don’t make me lonely. It took me ages to find out but I know I took you for granted and I can’t hope to apologize for the way I’ve treated you. All I can say is that I will do anything to make up for it.”

You stared at him for a bit, before looking away, grabbing your phone and bag.

“Y/N,” he said one last time, eyes pleading as he stared up at you. His hand twitched as if he was going to reach out.

“You’re too late, Yoongi.” You said your voice low and devoid of the maddening heartache you were going through. You couldn’t go back to him. You’d lived without him all through your relationship. You could do it even while you were done with him.

And…you’d have to be done with all of them.

Yoongi had no desire to go back to the Dorm, knowing that by now his members would’ve found out about his break-up. The last thing he wanted was their concern. All he wanted was to go to his home and lie down, wrapped in a thick blanket and just stay there but even that wasn’t an option.

His home was with her, and she had left him.

Of course when he did reach the Dorm, trying to bypass it to go straight to his studio, his way was blocked by extra broad shoulders.

“How did it go?”

Yoongi sighed, looking over Jin’s shoulders. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jin muttered something before placing a hand on Yoongi. “I can’t help you if you won’t let me, Yoongi-ah.”

Yoongi’s eyes flared as he scowled at Jin. “She doesn’t want me anymore. I promised myself that if she wanted to move on I would let her. I have no choice now to move on myself.” He shook of his eldest’s hand before disappearing back into his studio.

The change was perceptible.

Her absence had perforated Yoongi. It had frozen the group somehow.

To no one’s surprise, Y/N had stopped replying to Jin and the others, making them all slightly hesitant around the oldest rapper. When his actions and Jin’s trick to get you to speak to him leaked out – well, there were no secrets within the dorm, the younger ones had even stopped indulging Jin for a while.

Yoongi now felt like an outsider, where he had been accepted for who he was for the first time.

He didn’t know when, but Yoongi soon found himself going back to the swings. The notebook came with him out of habit but nothing happened, all Yoongi could do was slowly swing himself to and fro, listening to the creaks.

The cold night air chilled him but he still liked it. At least his skin was still capable of feeling something.

Yoongi closed his eyes, tilting his head as he raised his legs the way you would sometimes, swinging a bit faster.

“Hey,”

Yoongi’s eyes flew open, head whipping around to look at the source of the voice as his legs dropped down to abruptly stop his movement. It hurt, burning the soles of his shoes but he was too busy looking at you.

You were bundled up tightly, the soft coat wrapping around you with your arms as you gazed at him with a slight quirk of your lips.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here.”

All Yoongi could do in reply was stare mindlessly at you.

You leant forward a little before sighing, walking over to him and taking off your gloves. “What’s with you? Do you know how cold it is?” You asked, tapping his knuckles to present to you. He helplessly complied, letting you put your gloves on him.

“Y/N,” he finally managed. “What are you doing here?”

You slowed, lowering your hands and eyes. “I…” you sighed, backing to sit into the other swing, where you used to be, right next to him. “This is going to sound really stupid but I can’t stop thinking about what you said.”

“Oh,” Yoongi followed your gaze down to your shoes. “I want you to know if you don’t want to see me again, I’ll understand.”

“That’s just it. I thought I could live without you. I felt like I had been doing even when we were together so it should be easy right? But, what you said about what I was to you…for all the time, you were exactly that to me.”

Yoongi wanted to reach out to you so bad, brush some hair back so he could look into your eyes but he refrained, focused on your words.

“Now that I know that you won’t be coming back or I won’t be coming to you, I feel like I have lost my own peace. I’m getting on my roommate’s nerves,” you chanced a small sheepish smile at Yoongi but he just stared at you.

“So, where do we go from here?” He intoned.

You shrugged. “I don’t really know, Yoongi. I won’t lie. You hurt me a lot. I don’t know if you see it but you did. I…it will take some time for me to trust you again.”

Yoongi nodded, his lower lip jutting out a little at your still closed expression.

“But…I want to try again. Maybe it’ll work this time around, maybe it won’t.”

“I’ll make it work.” Yoongi blurted out immediately, sliding off the swing to stand in front of you. His hands, covered in your gloves wrapped around your shoulders, lifting you to your feet too.

“I know it will take me a while but I will make it work for you, for us. I need you with me. I can’t even explain how it’s been since you’ve been gone. I will do anything to keep you next to me. I’ll even release a statement if that’s what it takes. I’ll come home to you every day. Fuck the media.”

You shushed him as his volume rose, pressing bare skin against his lips. Yoongi leaned into the touch instinctively, a smile blossoming on your face at the natural action.

“It’s fine. I don’t need or want that much attention…but it will be nice to have you next to me again.” You agreed.

Yoongi nodded, hesitantly eyeing you before wrapping his arms slowly around you, watching you in case you pushed him away.

You didn’t, instead letting him pull you closer to him so he could place your head on his chest, sighing into your hair.

You hoped that you would be able to make it work because this was home and you didn’t want to leave again.

#yoongi angst #yoongi fanfic #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga #blind spot #amour propre

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only-one-dnp · 4 years

Text

Safe Space

Rating: Teen | Warnings: mild homophobia/slurs

Summary: Having Phil in the same house as his parents constantly feels like two completely different worlds are colliding in the weirdest ways- and one of them doesn't even know about it. But nothing makes Dan feel worse than having Phil hear some of the things his parents say when they think it's okay.

| read on AO3 |

Dan can’t stop the tension that fills his body when he hears the front door slams shut.

He hates it. He hates that his dad coming home makes his stomach twist so sharply he almost feels nauseous. He hates that he finds himself glancing over at Phil and silently praying to whatever God there may be that his dad doesn’t say something.

And he especially hates that he could never fully articulate any of it to Phil, at least not without admitting how his dad feels about certain subjects.

How his dad would feel about them.

He straightens up a little too quickly, barely missing knocking his head on the cupboard he’d been going through, and holds up some biscuits. He can here his dad loudly complaining about the laziness and stupidity of some guy at work.

“Custard Creams,” Dan says, his voice sounding distant to his own ears, and Phil looks up from the two cups of tea he’s making to glance at him. “Custard Creams are good tea biscuits, right?”

“They’ll do,” says Phil, but he smiles and Dan can hear the jokiness in his voice. It lessens the tension just a bit.

He returns the smile as Phil carefully puts the kettle back down, and then reaches over and takes one of the cups of tea. “I’m not letting you carry both of these. I like my floors un-tea-stained, thanks,” he jabs, elbowing the other boy softly.

“Hey!” Phil whines, even as he moves out of Dan’s way. “Tea stains are- they’re vintage, they’re stylish, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, sure,” scoffs Dan, leading the way towards the stairs. He’s just about to step onto the first step, just about to decide that everything actually turned out okay after all, when a line from his parents conversation seems to pierce through the air.

“He’s a ponce, I’ll bet you anything,” his dad huffs, and Dan feels something in him go very cold. “Tell you what, though- if I get lucky, he’ll probably end up with bum cancer before the year’s up, save me some trouble.”

And then his mum is responding with some vague platitudes, and it takes Dan almost a second too long to remember that he’s holding a cup filled with hot liquid.

He steadies it before more than a drop hits the floor, and slowly forces out a breath.

There’s a million and one things going through his brain as the comment settles in, but the primary one is- Phil.

Does he turn around? Will that bring attention to it? Does he pretend he didn’t hear it, or that it didn’t happen? Maybe Phil never noticed-

But that’s dumb, because even if Phil didn’t notice the comment, he sure as hell would’ve noticed Dan’s reaction. And Phil isn’t like Dan- Phil is comfortable, he’s open, he’s out and accepted and he wouldn’t be used to hearing that stuff, so it would be harder for him, more of a shock to the system.

Dan turns around an apology already on his lips, but to his surprise, Phil looks more concerned than distressed by it. The apology seems to die out.

Phil offers him a small, comforting smile. “We should head up stairs,” he suggests, his tone gentle, and Dan knows what he’s actually saying- we should get away from here.

He nods without saying anything, and has to use actual effort not to run loudly up the stairs for fear of alerting his parents to the fact something is wrong. He makes sure to go as slowly and casually as he can into his bedroom, where he puts down the cup and biscuits only a little too hard.

He hears Phil quietly closing the door behind them, probably following his lead, and something in his chest aches painfully.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth as he turned around. “I’m sorry about that, it’s not- it’s just-“

He cuts himself off. It’s not anything. It’s dick-ish. And unfair.

“It’s okay,” says Phil, in a tone that would almost have Dan believing him if he didn’t know for sure that it wasn’t. “Some people… are like that.”

“But they shouldn’t be,” says Dan, and his voice is quieter than he would like, but he can’t change it. “It’s not fair- I’m sorry that you had to hear that. You don’t deserve to hear that.”

“Neither do you,” says Phil, his tone still even and light. “Nobody does. But it happens.”

“That’s a dumb excuse and you know it,” huffs Dan, irritation flaring in his chest, but he steps closer to Phil in spite of it. Or maybe because of it.

“These things take time-“

“To learn not to be an asshole?”

“To adjust to different world views-“

“You can’t just excuse this stuff because you want to be nice, letting jackasses be bigots never made the world any better,” Dan snaps, before immediately regretting it, but Phil looks unphased.

“I’m not excusing it,” he says, his tone still infuriatingly okay. “I told you, you don’t deserve that. But I’m not upset about it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m- I’m-“ Dan lets out a frustrated breath. “Of course that’s what I’m worried about,” he says, and his irritation leaks out into his tone. “I don’t want you to have to deal with that, ever, especially not in my house-“

“I don’t mind,” says Phil, and then he catches Dan’s hands. The contact seems to ground him, separating him from his slew of angered thoughts. “I mean, it sucks to hear that stuff, yeah. But it’s kind of outweighed by getting to see you-“

“You’re a cheesy bastard,” grumbles Dan.

“Anyway, I’m more concerned about you. You have to deal with this all the time.”

Dan wants to deny it, but he can’t. He tightens his grip instinctively. “I…” he falters, the words seeming to get stuck in his throat. It makes him feel agitated, unstable, and he finds himself mentally reaching out, grasping towards the angry thoughts- “I want you to feel accepted in my house, like I do in yours,” he begins, but then Phil shakes his head, cutting him off.

“How do you feel?” He prompts gently, tugging Dan just a big closer. “I want to talk about you with all this. How do you feel?”

Dan hesitates again. “I feel- I-“ he tenses up, and then, as if controlled by some force outside himself-

He shoves Phil backwards into the door, hard enough for the other boy to make a startled sound, and then their lips are together and Dan kisses him with everything he has. It’s angry, hard, aggressive- desperate- every part of Dan wants Phil like it wants air, his hands curling into Phil’s chest like claws, their bodies pressing together like they could merge into one, hearts beating almost in unison, and Phil is kissing him back, rough and messy, Phil’s hands are in his hair, Phil entire being is pressing back against him, and they’re both being too harsh to be skilled, but it feels better than any practiced kiss could possibly be feel-

And then Phil pulls away, chest heaving, and he has to repeat himself several times before Dan can fully register that he’s speaking.

“Dan.”

Dan leans towards him, instinctively, but Phil’s hands tighten around his head, holding him back, and the older boy gives the tiniest shake of his head. It does nothing to dampen the smugness Dan feels looking at how dazed and rough Phil looks, knowing he did that. “What?” He asks finally, and his voice is lower than usual.

Phil swallows. “Not that I don’t… also want…” He clears his throat gently, and his cheeks tinge just a little bit red. “We should talk. About what happened. Properly, I mean.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” says Dan, and it’s more honest than he thought he’d be, and he rests his head on Phil’s shoulder, tucking his nose into the crook of Phil’s neck. He can feel the older boy’s breath hitch, which gives him a nice sense of satisfaction, but unfortunately Phil’s inherent stubbornness has yet to give up.

“We still should, though. At least a bit.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Dan’s voice is just a little muffled by Phil’s skin, and it makes him feel better than it should. Everything about Phil makes him feel better than it should.

“Can I ask questions, then?” Phil asks, and his fingers start tracing shapes down Dan’s bare arm.

There’s a long beat before Dan responds. “Okay,” he says, softy.

“How long has he been saying stuff like that… openly?”

“My whole life. He’s usually very open and accepting about most things. Just not… this.”

“Has he ever considered… you?” Phil asks, and Dan can tell he’s deliberately trying to avoid using the word in his house, and that alone makes him feel almost as bad as the entire concept does.

“No,” he says, too fast, and then he huffs softly and feels Phil shiver beneath him. “Never to my face,” he says, and his voice is quieter this time.

Phil makes a soft humming sound. “I don’t think he would say that stuff if he had,” he says, and Dan doesn’t bother disagreeing. A few seconds pass before Phil speaks again. “It pisses you off that he says that stuff.”

It’s not a question. “Yes,” Dan says anyway.

“Does it… always piss you off?” Phil asks, and this time he sounds more curious. “Only… you kept pushing your anger onto… me being here. Does that make it worse?”

The idea of Phil making anything worse makes Dan straighten up out of surprise, but he can’t deny it. Not fully, at least.

“I’m used to it,” he says, honestly. “The more I learn to… be okay with this, the worse it is to hear him say that stuff. But having you here… it makes me feel-“ he pauses, struggling to find the right words, and Phil gives him a moment. “Ashamed,” he says finally, even though that still doesn’t feel like the right word- but it’s close. “I don’t want you to hear that stuff. I don’t want you to be around it.”

They stay in silence for just long enough for Dan to think he’s said too much, when Phil lets out a long breath. “I get that,” he says, gently. “There’s certain things… I want to protect you from. But it’s not realistic. Not… long-term.”

Dan doesn’t know whether he should be more thrilled about Phil trying to protect him or the suggestion of a ‘long-term’, but he forces himself to focus on the conversation anyway. This is the time to stay in the moment.

“You’re the one place on earth where all of this doesn’t exist anymore,” he says, as honest and open as he can, and Phil grins at him, his face lighting up.

“Good,” he says gently, finally letting his fingers lie still. “I want to do that for you. I want to… be that for you.”

“You are.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, but this time they’re both drinking it in, too busy existing to speak.

Finally, Phil sighs gently. “Is this what you want to do?” He asks curiously, raising his eyebrow. “Stand here awkwardly against the wall while our tea gets cold?”

Dan knows Phil is suggesting they sit down on the bed, finally get round to those movies they were about to watch. He also doesn’t care, and there’s a flair of confidence building up in him.

“I want,” he begins slowly, his voice dropping lower again as he locks eyes with Phil, “to be with you right now. Just you. No house. No family. No dickheads.”

“I am a pretty amazing person, but I don’t actually have the power to make a whole house disappear,” says Phil, and Dan can’t tell if his dedication to being sly and making Dan spell things out was more frustrating or endearing in that very moment.

He choses endearing, for his own sanity, and leans back into Phil, so their chests touch. “I want to lock the door, pretend no one else exists, and just be with you- openly.”

Phil’s mock-innocent façade slips into a grin, and Dan hears the lock click softly before the other boy’s hands come up to cup his face. “That, I think I can manage,” he says, before pulling Dan towards him-

Their mouths collided messily, a blur of heat and movement and sparks where their bare skin occasionally touched as they tugged awkwardly at each other’s clothes-

And this time Dan breaks it, just briefly, letting Phil slide down to start pressing kisses to his shoulders. “But quietly,” Dan says, already breathless. “Openly, but… quietly. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” agrees Phil, voice muffled, and a second later he pulls his own t-shirt over his head and tosses it aside.

Dan tooks advantage of his brief distraction to press their lips together again.

Together. However quiet or subtle they were… they were still doing this. And he didn’t feel a single ounce of shame, whatever his father might be saying downstairs.

He didn’t need to.

He tries to think- think back to the stuff he’s read online, about depression and anxious feelings and dealing with all the bad stuff in life. There’s a word- two words- that always comes to mind when he thinks of Phil.

Safe space.

#dan and phil #daniel howell #phil lester #dnp #phan #phan fic #dan and phil fic #witness my lack of self control #I DID IT #mine #my fic

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