#what if you collapsed with heart palpitations and cracked your head open??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

g0ttal0ve101 · 2 years

Text

The Hall Case

Loading data…

Download complete.

This file contains sensitive content such as: Child abuse, under aged drugs/alcohol use, drug addiction, and foul language.

Would you like to proceed?

(Yes) (No)

████████████████████

August 27th, xxxx.

6:20 pm.

Six years ago…

Thomas sat at his desk in his bedroom, scribbling down equations for the work his father had given him. He was homeschooled for the rest of the year, considering his heart palpitations were getting increasingly worse when he went to school. His anxiety would spike, his blood pressure would spike, his heart rate would spike, then the pain began. It was the worst in gym class when he ran around; He would end up collapsing on the floor in a coughing fit before being sent to the hospital. Once, he had to be resurrected because his heart stopped beating for a while. It annoyed him to be treated any differently than the other children, so his father ended up pulling him off from school altogether.

Writing down the final equation out on his worksheet, the boy hears a tap at his balcony window. He ignores it at first, until hearing another one. His head perks to the balcony’s doors, seeing that two misplaced rocks were right outside. Curious, the boy stood from his seat and went to investigate the matter, his eyes glittering with wonder.

He opens his door only to be smacked with a rock straight in the forehead. He lets out a yelp and jumps back, rubbing where it had hit him. Two snickers could be heard from below. Thomas growled in frustration before storming out onto his balcony, glaring at the two responsible for this. A ginger and a brunet, both wearing worn out clothing and covered in filth.

“Excuse me,” Thomas hissed at the two. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I suggest you stop.”

The brunet, holding a skateboard in his arm, continually chuckles to annoy the boy above him. “Oh? Rapunzle finally shows himself? Phhhttt…Rapunzle, Rapunzle, let down your hair~” His friend cracks up at the comparison, bending over from breaking out in laughter. The boy clearly thinks he’s a comedian now that he got positive feedback from his buddy, continuing on with the pestering. “I mean seriously, dude. What’s the big deal? You never come out and hang with anyone. You’re not even in school.”

“Go away before I let my dogs out on you.” Thomas fumed, getting annoyed by these boy’s antics. They seem to think this is even funnier, laughing harder than before. “I mean it, I have three Doberman.”

“Whaaat…?” The ginger tilts his head, obviously unknowing that he was talking about a specific dog breed.

The brunet seems intrigued by this statement, throwing his skateboard down on the sidewalk and marching into Thomas’s yard. “I’m not worried about some dogs. Dogs don’t scare me.” He sneers, spitting into the grass to disrespect the property. He then takes a long look around the area, looking up toward the boy who had just threatened him. “I’m here to ask you something. One,” he held up a finger, “why don’t you ever leave that place? Two,” he holds up another, “why is your sister so ugly, and three…” He holds up another finger, this time thinking deeply. When his lightbulb clicked in his head, he points at the big directly with a big smile. “Where does your dad work?! Damn, you’re loaded!”

Thomas puffed his chest to look bigger out of instinct, furrowing his eyebrows even further than before. “He’s the CEO of Hall’s Robotics!”

“Hall’s…huh?”

Rolling his eyes, the raven-haired boy turns away from the mysterious boy below, annoyed. “Of course you wouldn’t know. And I don’t have to answer any of the other questions!” Another rock is thrown at Thomas, this time hitting him in the back of the head. He spins around and shoots eye daggers at the boy, regaining his attention.

“Well, yeah, you don’t gotta but…” The boy tosses the spare rock he had in his hand on the ground, sighing. “Everyone around has been wondering! You don’t hang with anyone, don’t talk to anyone, and it’s so weird! Are you like an alien or something?! Is your dad a murderer?! Is that even your dad-?!”

“I’m fine!” Thomas fumed. “Now, go away before I really do let out the do-!”

“Waaaiitttt, wait, wait, wait, wait.” The brunet interrupts him. “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Charlie and this is my buddy Freddy.” He points back behind him to the ginger, who waves slightly at him. “We’ve been kinda bored lately and we were wondering if you wanna hang with us. Y’know, cause you never hang out with anyone.”

Thomas’s eyes widen bigger than ever, hearing these words come from his mouth. It was like all time had stopped and only the both of them were in movement. Charlie smiled up at him without knowing even half of what he was going through. He had no idea how much this meant to him. Just to talk to someone his age - it was like a dream.

“...Okay.” Thomas stammers, his blue eyes glimmering with excitement.

“No way?! Really?!” The ginger called from behind, his face in utter shock.

The brunet still keeps the smile on his face, holding out his arms and moving closer to the balcony. “Alright! I’ll catch you! Trust me, m’kay?”

With blush slightly dusting his face, Thomas smiles and nods. His heart was pounding out of his chest when he stepped over the railing, feeling the wind blow through his hair. With a gulp, he looked down to reply. “Okay! M-Make sure not to drop me…! I…uh…!”

Charlie winks at him. “No worries, babe! I’ll catch you with no problem.”

Thomas then lets go of the railing, clenching his eyes shut and jumping off the balcony. Butterflies exploded in his stomach as he fell, waiting for the impact of his fall. However, it was stopped by two arms wrapping around his waist, completely stopping him from hitting the grass. Almost surprised by this, Thomas’s eyelids fluttered open and saw the boy from below holding him in his arms. He didn’t even look phased one bit.

“Told you so.” Charlie giggles, setting him down on his feet. “You’re super light…do you need to eat a hamburger or something? My momma makes the best ones ever.”

Thomas looks at his feet, which were touching the grass, then back up at the boy in front of him. He was outside. He was standing outside! His heart began to ring with excitement, his eyes aglow. “Wow…! Wow!” He gushed, running around his yard like a busy bee flying. The other two watched him in confusion, wondering why he was so ecstatic to be outside. Although, his smile was extremely contagious, both Charlie and Freddy smiling after him.

“Hey! Come on, babe! We’re going back to my place!” Charlie calls for the boy. He immediately perks his head back toward his voice, rushing to his side like an obedient dog.

“Okay!”

████████████████████

May 14th, xxxx.

8:09 am.

Present time.

“Babe. Babe. Babeeeeeeee. Babe, wake up.”

“Ughhh, noooo…”

“Hey, you can’t sleep in anymore. I gotta take you home, remember?”

Thomas sleepily lifts his head from the pillows, looking up toward the one waking him up. He rolls over on his back and stretches his arms as far as possible to begin waking up, but immediately feels tired once he releases his muscles again. Seeing that he was attempting to shut his eyes again, Charlie began to pull on his ear.

“Oww…” The raven-haired boy whined, struggling away from the grasp Charlie had on his ear. Once he finally got free, he sat up and stretched again, pouting quite a bit. “It’s still early, I said my dad’s coming home at noon…why did you wake me upppp…?”

Charlie rolled his eyes and stood up off the bed, putting his hands on his hips to show that he wasn’t messing around with him. “Cause you gotta get dressed and ready to go. Plus, it’s better to be early so that it seems like you didn’t just rush in, y’know? So, come on.”

Knowing that he couldn’t argue with that logic, Thomas began to search for the clothes he was wearing before coming here. Since his father gave him the same exact wardrobe to wear, he would know if he was wearing anything slightly different from what he bought him. All of his closet consisted of the same things: Dress pants, dress shirts, dress jackets, and “casual” clothes. (Which didn’t look much different than the dress clothing items, just more comfortable to wear at home.) Once he realized his white button-down shirt wasn’t on Charlie’s bedroom floor, he grew panicked. His father would definitely know if that shirt was missing. It was the most unique one out of all of his dress shirts! No pockets, lots of buttons, Thomas’s favorite - it was bound to be questioned. Thomas grabbed Charlie’s arm as he was getting dressed, clearly wanting his attention.

“Charlie, I can’t find my fucking shirt. I need it.”

“I threw it on the floor last night, look there.” He grumbled, tightening his belt around his waist.

“I did!” Thomas cried, checking for the fourth time around the bed. He tried to look under the bed too, only to see a bunch of random crap Charlie had shoved down there. It couldn’t have been somehow thrown into the hallway, could it have been? His mind was going in circles. “Charlie, I really need that shirt. It’s my favorite!”

“Your favorite? I thought it was too dressy for you.” The raven-haired boy blushed at that statement, turning away from him just a little to hide it. Charlie grabs his face and lifts it up, smiling flirtatiously. “It’s fine, I like you without a shirt anyway.”

Although Thomas always displayed himself as a hot shot with experience, he actually had none. Once this was revealed to Charlie, he couldn’t help but to mess with him. It bothered the hell out of Thomas that he couldn’t reply back from being too flustered, glaring at the boy playfully. “Haha, very funny. Now help me find my shirt.”

“Nahhh, don’t wanna.”

“Well, you gotta! You’re the one that threw it, dumbass!”

“Oopsie, sounds like it’s not my problem.” Thomas shivers slightly while resting his hands against his elbows in an attempt to warm up. He frustratedly huffed and continued looking for his beloved shirt, having no other ideas to get out of this mess other than finding it. Once he had dropped to his knees to conduct a thorough search Charlie realized he wasn’t messing around. “Oh shit, is it really your favorite?”

“No, but I say it to make my dad happy.” Thomas explains, rubbing his hand on his head out of annoyance. “He was so glad that I said I liked that shirt…he’s totally gonna know if I lost it. Then the questions will begin to flood. ‘Did you leave your room?’ No, dad. ‘Are you sure you didn’t leave your bedroom?’ Yeah, I’m sure, dad. ‘Thomas Gaberial Hall, look at me when I’m talking to you.’ All that shit.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow to those statements. “That sounds toxic as hell. You’re allowed to leave your room, right?” The boy doesn’t answer, lowering his head to try and seem like he didn’t hear him, being too involved with looking for his shirt. Charlie didn’t like that reply, bending down and sitting beside him. “You are allowed to leave your room, right Thomas? You’re not…being forced to stay in there, are you?”

Thomas doesn’t answer. Instead, he tucks his hands tightly to his chest, looking away sheepishly. He was definitely embarrassed to tell anyone about what goes down at home, thinking that it would be a reason to make fun of him. He slowly shakes his head to reply to the first question he asked. No, he wasn’t allowed to leave his room under any circumstances. There was a bathroom connected to his bedroom, so there was no need to go into the hallway. His father would bring him all of his food, so there was no need to go into the kitchen. There was a TV in his room, so there was no need to go into the living room. It was like Thomas’s room was actually a tiny apartment with everything he needed. However, it wasn’t enough for him. At times, he felt selfish while thinking like that. His life was so easy. But it was so very miserable.

Charlie gently grabs Thomas’s cheek, snapping him out of those thoughts. He turns the boy’s face toward his, looking worried-sick. “Babe…”

“I’m fine though. I mean, my dad doesn’t hurt me or anything. He’s just protecting me…”

“Babe.”

“A-And it’s not like I care. I’m perfectly fine with living like that, haha! It doesn’t bother me!”

“Babe!”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m-!”

“Babe!” Charlie whines. He grew infuriated with every word coming out of Thomas’s mouth. He knew they were all lies, after all. He could tell how much this was affecting him in the long run. The raven-haired boy finally locks eye contact with him, showing that he was listening now. His pale complexion and endearing expression made Charlie blush a bit. Thomas, the boy who was known for causing nothing but trouble, was listening to what he had to say. Did that mean his words mattered to him? That thought made butterflies swell in Charlie’s stomach. “...Even if you didn’t care about it…I…I really do. And…I want you to be able to live the life you wanna live…cause…” He hesitated to say it, removing his hand from his face. “…I do actually love you, y’know? I wasn’t just saying it cause I wanted you to sleep with me. I said it cause…I do. I really do, so…”

Thomas blushed heavily, looking away again. He quietly fiddled with his fingers for a moment before looking back up at the boy with a genuine smile. “Yeah? Do you really?”

Charlie’s eyes widened just looking into his blue irises. He was actually happy, he could tell. He hadn’t seen this expression from him in such a long time. It flooded back all sorts of memories from when they were young. Just because of his lovely, angelic expression.

“Yeah…I…I love you, Thomas.”

Thomas leaned in towards his face, quickly planting a light kiss on his lips before backing away flusteredly. “I love you too, Charlie.”

. . .

“Phtt…”

The raven-haired boy’s expression went from happy to shock to angry in a few seconds flat. His entire face was red, including the tips of his ears, as he shot a glare at the laughing boy. “Why’re you laughing?!”

“Heheeee…” Charlie covers his mouth to hide his grin. “Sorry…it’s just…for a guy who has so much fuckboy energy, you sure kiss like a girl.”

“A GIRL?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN A ‘GIRL’?!” Thomas screeches, blushing even harder than before - If that was possible. “HOW DARE YOU?! THAT’S SO FUCKED UP FOR YOU TO SAY!”

The boy shrugs with a smug smile still lingering on his face. “I dunno, maybe you should try again.”

Thomas furrowed his eyebrows, face piping hot from the embarrassment he felt moments before. He then pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh, feeling the heat start to die down from the back of his neck. “Again?”

“Mhm.”

“Why, so you can make fun of me more?”

“Nah. Just cause it’s cute to see your face once you back up, haha!”

“...Likewise…I’m always fucking hot.”

“I said cute…not hot, dumbass.”

“You’re the dumbass!”

“Please.”

████████████████████

May 14th, xxxx.

8:30 am.

“Just throw it under your bed or something.” Charlie suggests.

“No! That’s…way too obvious!”

“The closet?”

“No! He checks there too!”

“Damn…”

Thomas sat in the passenger seat of the car, looking out the window for ideas to hide it. The bathroom would be too gross for it, under the bed and in the closet too obvious, so where could he possibly put it?

Charlie laughs at his seriousness, driving down the road without much of a hurry, considering they were going to be hours early. “You can always give it back, y’know.” He hums, letting the smoke from his lips exit through the car window.

“No!” Thomas hisses, clenching onto it tightly. “It’ll be even worse if I go in there without a shirt at all. I at least need this.”

“…Are you sure you don’t wanna just steal my jacket like a lil middle schooler~?” Charlie winked at him before returning his eyes back to the road.

Thomas’s face erupted in blush, trying to deny it immediately. “What?! Huh?! No! What?!? I’ll give it back! Dumbass.”

“Jeez, so aggressive…” Charlie chuckles to himself. He then rests his hand on Thomas’s thigh, catching the boy’s attention. He blushed heavily and looked out the window, almost trying to ignore it was there, before hearing Charlie’s voice again. “Y’know…you can keep it if you want…for like a memory of last night. I won’t be mad if you do.”

Thomas felt his heart fluttering. At first he thought he was having heart palpitations as he usually did in stressful situations, but settled it into his feeling of excitement. “Charlie…” He murmurs, looking down at his hand that rested on him. With a slight smile, he grabs and holds it, looking out of the window again. “…Okay. I’ll keep it as a memory then. If it’s okay with you…”

“Of course it is. I have lots of jackets back at home anyway, don’t feel bad. It looks better on you anyway, babe.”

“…You’re trying to fluster me again, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m just being your boyfriend, dumbass.”

Thomas felt his heart once again skip a beat. He held his chest with a smile that was impossible to erase, happy to hear such sweet words coming from him. His eyes locked onto Charlie’s face to see he was smiling too. That meant they were both happy with what was happening between them. Although, they both had a hard time saying it, afraid to lose their hard shell around each other.

Seeing his house, the smile on Thomas’s face began to dim, the future becoming more relevant than ever. He turns to Charlie to see that he felt the same way, but looked worse. His chocolate-like eyes glared at Thomas’s home, hate spewing just from the look he was giving. Thomas felt the need to lighten the mood, kissing his cheek to regain his attention.

“Okay, boyfriend.” Thomas repeats the words Charlie had said previously, sticking his tongue out to make him smile. “Do you have any free days we could meet up again?”

Charlie nods. “Yeah, is Wednesday good?”

“Mhm! My dad will be going on a date that day.” Thomas rolls his eyes to show his appreciation toward it. Charlie chuckles.

“New step mom?”

“Sounds like it.”

Sighing with a little grin on his face, Charlie lowers his head. “Damn. Hopefully she’s hot, right?”

“Oh, shut it.” Thomas playfully snaps, getting out of the car. “See you Wednesday, alright?”

“Alright, doll.”

The raven-haired boy stuffed his hands in his pockets, turning on his heel to face the car after hearing him say that. “Hey! Call me babe, I like it more!”

And with that, Thomas rushed into his house, not taking another look back. Charlie blushed at that remark, recalling the time he had told him not to call him babe, as it sounded like they were dating when they were younger. Putting two and two together, Charlie chuckles to himself before pulling away, leaving the boy at his house.

Opening the front door of his house and creeping inside, Thomas makes his way back to his bedroom as quietly as possible. He knew that his father wasn’t home, which meant there couldn’t be anyone else around either, but he still felt uncomfortable making any noises to allow anyone to know he was there. His black hair swished back and forth as he skipped up the steps, making a sharp left before entering his room.

His eyes widened like saucers as soon as the door opened.

“So, you finally decided to show up?” His father, Adrien hissed. He sat on his son’s bed, staring right through his eyes and into his soul as he snuck in. Thomas was in shock: He had never gotten caught before. What was going to happen next? How far was he going to take it? How big was this offense? Speechless, Thomas could only stare in horror. “Great, just great. Wearing a new jacket too, I see? Where did you get that from? Did you steal it? Did a friend give it to you?”

“Dad, I-!”

“No. I don’t even want to hear your excuses.” Adrien stood up, storming over to his son. He grabs the jacket’s collar, shoving him against the wall so as to not allow him to break eye contact. As he thought he would, Thomas stared up at him like a lost puppy. He didn’t know what to do but stare. He was completely petrified. “Where were you last night? Let’s start with that. Who did you stay with? What did you do?”

“…I-I’m…I…” Thomas desperately wanted to lighten the mood somehow, but knew any sort of laughing would be interpreted as disrespect. “Dad, I just wanted to get out…I was-!”

“I DIDN’T ASK YOU THAT!” Adrien fumed, yanking his collar harshly toward his face. Now there was no escaping the eye contact. He had to have his full attention on his father. “TELL ME WHERE YOU WERE! NOW!”

Thomas clenched his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to stop the cold stare he was receiving, struggling only just barely. “I-I can’t tell you! You’ll hurt them! I…I know you will!”

“Was it a girl’s house?”

The color began to drain from Thomas’s face. He helplessly stared at his father, knowing that he was already suspicious of what he had done. Seeing this unfaltered eye contact, Adrien knew that wasn’t correct.

“A boy’s house?”

Thomas looked away.

“So, one of your friends, huh? How many were there? Three?”

He stared.

“Two?” His father corrects himself.

He only stares.

“One…?”

Thomas tried to hold eye contact, but failed. He looks away, blowing his cover instantly. Adrien’s heart shattered like glass figuring this out. The jacket he was clenching in his hands was a boy’s. Possibly a boy that slept with his son. His stomach turned to the thought of anyone touching Thomas inappropriately. He didn’t want to ask, but he knew he had to.

“What did you two do at his house?” Adrien now calmed his voice. He hated to see his little boy’s face drenched with fear. He wanted him to smile again. But not now. Now he would have to be punished.

Thomas’s eyes begin to tear up. He didn’t want to tell him anything. If he did, what if he was separated from his friends? What if he could never see them again? Those thoughts were enough to make him tremble in fear. If he didn’t have Charlie, then he would die alone. He promised to stay with him when he died. He promised he wouldn’t die alone. He promised. He promised.

“Are you embarrassed to tell your father what you did?” Thomas doesn’t answer him. This only adds to Adrien’s anger, but he hides it the best he could. Wiping the wetness from his boy’s face, he grabbed his hand and led him into the bathroom, taking off his jacket for him. “Go take a bath, okay? We’ll talk about it more after.”

“Please…give it back. I really care about that.”Thomas grabbed the jacket in Adrien’s hands and tried to pull it back. He had never tried to take anything from his father in his life. There was only one explanation in Adrien’s mind - That boy was teaching him to be disobedient.

“Thomas Gabriel Hall. Don’t you ever try to take something from my hands again.”

Thomas’s expression turned from nervous to fury in a second, refusing to let go of the jacket. “Dad, you can’t take that from me! It’s mine!”

“THOMAS GABRIEL HALL!” Adrien thundered. He shoved his son back, growing furious with every second he disobeyed him. “HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU, THOMAS! I HAVE GIVEN YOU NOTHING BUT LOVE AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?!”

“Love?! Do you really think keeping your son in one room for his entire life is love?! This is torture! You’ve been torturing me for years, dad!” Thomas manages to stammer out. His face was covered with confidence, but his deep blue eyes were filled with fear. He had never raised his voice at his father, not even a little bit.

Adrien’s eyes filled with endless hatred for the boy who had influenced his son in such a way. He couldn’t be mad at Thomas, it wasn’t his fault. No, this was all that boy’s fault. He taught Thomas to fight against his loving father just for trying to keep him safe. If it weren’t for Adrien, his son standing in front of him would be six feet under years ago. That part infuriated him the most. Thomas was being ungrateful and selfish all because of that boy.

Although he always stood against striking his son, Adrien slaps him across the face. Stumbling backward from the shock of being hit by his very own father, Thomas held his hand to his cheek and stared helplessly at his father. For a moment, he looked for forgiveness in his father’s eyes. He never wished to displease him. He loved his father, he wanted him to give him affection. But…

Those times were gone. Thomas clenched his fists at his sides and attempted to stand his ground, his stare unmoved from his father’s face. Then, with his eyes still locked on him, Thomas yanks the jacket from his arms, retreating a few steps out of reach.

“Oh, so you want to stay with that boy you had sex with?! Is that it?! You would choose him over your own father?!” Adrien fumed after realizing his striking tactic wasn’t working.

“No. I would choose freedom over this place.” Thomas corrects him, holding the jacket close to his chest. “I love you dad, I really do…but I can’t stay here forever! You can’t force me to die in this place, I’m not going to!” Hearing the sound of tears choking up in the back of his throat, Adrien felt guilty. He didn’t want his son to cry like that, not when his death was so close. Before he could try and calm him down, Thomas continues. “I’M SICK OF THIS SHIT! I’M TIRED OF YOU KEEPING ME IN THIS DAMN HOUSE! I’M TIRED OF HAVING TO DREAM OF HAVING FRIENDS, OR HAVING FUN, OR BEING NORMAL! I’M SO SICK OF YOU FORCING ME TO LIVE MY LIFE TO THE BARE MINIMUM! I’M TIRED OF ALL THIS SHIT!”

As soon as the last word left his mouth, Thomas felt a sharp sting in his neck. He froze in shock, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Soon enough his father pulls away a syringe that was once in his throat, throwing the medical instrument on the floor after it was emptied into Thomas’s blood flow. Soon enough, his vision grew blurry and his legs became weak. He falls into his father’s arms without any feeling left in his body, desperately trying to stay awake.

“Is that really how you feel, prince?” Adrien whispers into his ear. He affectionately moves his dark strands of hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. Thomas could only pray his father would be merciful to him now that he was unable to move, tears still leaking from his eyes. Adrien picks him up and sets him on his bed, placing the jacket overtop of him gently. He then whispers one last thing before leaving the room in silence.

“Then, you don’t deserve to live here.”

████████████████████

May 14th, xxxx.

3:45 pm.

Thomas woke up to his heart beating irregularly. He knew that this was a sign of a future palpitation, but ignored it as he recalled what happened hours earlier. He touches his neck, feeling a small bandaid covering the wound he received from the syringe, and panics. How long had he been asleep for? It wasn’t more than a day, right? What if he was over medicated again?

He groggily stood up from his bed and leaned against his wall, trying to regain his balance. Thomas knew once the drug had entered his blood, it would take awhile for his drowsiness to go away. With that in mind, he slowly makes his way toward the balcony door, desperate to escape again.

“I’ll just run to Charlie’s house and we can leave the state or something. Yeah. He said he wanted to go to Hollywood! We could just go there then! I won’t be locked up anymore! Yeah!” Thomas’s mind spun like a rocket. He knew that wasn’t possible deep inside, but he wanted a plan to grasp onto. A plan that would mean he didn’t have to stay there, another choice than dying here. But it was all just a daydream.

The raven-haired boy opened the balcony’s curtains only to see a familiar car in the driveway. Silver, freshly polished, but clearly old. The color reflected in the sun and into his eyes, burning his retinas. All he could do his clench his eyes shut and hope it wasn’t who he thought it was. For the second time, he opened his eyes to view the car only for his heart to drop all the way to his feet.

“Prince, are you awake?” Adrien’s voice calls from behind the bedroom door. Thomas quickly shut the curtains and moved to his bed, shaking tremendously as he grasped the concept of what was going to happen. His father’s voice called for him again. “Prince…”

“N-No!” Thomas whimpered out like a small child. He felt humiliated, sounding so weak, but knew there was nothing else he could do.

His father invited himself inside his son’s bedroom, knowing that Thomas was in a state of shock and wouldn’t do anything to prevent him from doing so. Sitting down next to him, he pulled his son close and stroked his hair, knowing that he was on the verge of bursting into tears. “Oh, don’t make that face. I hate it when you do that. It’s just for a few months.”

“Wh-What?!”

“The rest of May and then you’ll be back in the middle of June. I hope you’ll learn your lesson by then.” Adrien smiles even brighter at the thought of his son becoming totally obedient after coming back. It would go back to normal and Thomas would be perfectly safe in his arms. He loved the thought of that. “I already packed your bags. You’re all ready to go.”

“N-No! No! I’m not going there! Please! Please, I’ll do anything! Don’t make me go there! Please, dad!” Thomas begs. He grabs his father’s shirt and stares up at him, looking for forgiveness. However, once they locked eyes, Thomas realized that he had already been forgiven. This was just the punishment of his actions.

Adrien pats his son’s head slowly, playing with his hair as he goes. “Will you promise me not to go out and see those friends of yours again? That boy…promise me and I won’t make you go there.”

Choking on tears, the raven-haired boy already had his mind set on his decision; He would never leave his friends no matter what the consequences were. Therefore, he shook his head hesitantly. This made Adrien’s smile dim a bit, but he still continues to give him a soft expression. “Right. So you’ll have to go visit your mother and siblings then. Maybe you’ll be more grateful for what you have.”

“D-Dad…please…”

“No. It’s already been decided. Come on, I’ll escort you to the car.”

“N-No…no…you don’t understand what you’re doing!”

“I do.”

“Then why?! They’ll hurt me dad! They’ll kill me!”

Adrien shakes his head. He grabs his son’s arm and pulls him out of his room, leading him down the flight of steps and toward the front door. The majority of the way was silent, until the door was in sight. “You may feel like they’re killing you, but that’s because of how sheltered you are. I treat you like gold. They treat you like an equal. Suck it up and deal with it, Thomas. If that’s how you want to act, so be it. You need to learn your lesson.”

“N-No! Dad, no! They’ll actually-!”

The front door opens. There stands Amelia, Thomas’s mother. Her cold, icy eyes pierced through him and her long black hair smoothly slicked back to show her “bitch face” - As Charlie would call it. Her bottom lip was clearly busted, but she wore dark lipstick to hide it. Not only that, there was a big purple bruise on the brim of her chin, covered by foundation and concealer. Thomas shuddered at the thought of where those came from.

“Thomas, there you are. I’ve missed you.”

Thomas helplessly stares at her like an alien. She was putting on an act for his father, it seemed, which scared him even more. He knew those eyes were still as cold as they were when he was little. He didn’t take her words into heart. Glancing over toward Adrien, he could see that he was urging him to say something back. This made him annoyed, but he obliged. “I’ve missed you too, mom.”

“I hope you don’t mind my sudden appearance. I heard you were being disobedient.”

“…”

“Don’t worry, Thomas.” She cups his cheek in her icy hands, her smile widening to show her true malicious intent. “We’ll take great care of you. You won’t want to leave after you stay for a while.”

Adrien pushes her hand off of their son, firmly holding her frail limbs in his harsh fist. He glared at her with eyes full of disgust and hatred. This was a face Thomas had never seen before.

“What’s the matter, Adrien? Why are you being so protective over our son?” Amelia sneered the fact that Thomas wasn’t only his, which pissed him off more.

“You don’t need to get that close with him. He’s our son, like you said. Sixteen. He doesn’t need your hands on him.”

Amelia frowns at this statement. She even looked a bit confused. “Sixteen? He’s sixteen? Why, he looks like he’s thirteen!”

“…He doesn’t have growth spurts very often, but he’s clearly sixteen.”

“He still has a baby face. Just a bit taller.” Amelia hummed. Her black hair drifted into her face a tad as she looked up at her son. “Yeah, a bit taller. My, you’re becoming such a fine young man. Aren’t you, Thomas?”

Thomas dodged eye contact with her, even though she was pushing it onto him as much as she could. Adrien quickly wraps Charlie’s jacket around his son’s shoulders, giving him a sense of comfort before he was sent off. The boy only slightly smiles before lowering his head and heading toward the car, leaving the two adults together.

“Not very talkative?”

“No, he is. Just not for you.”

Now that Thomas was gone, Amelia felt there wasn’t a reason for her to continue pretending. Her stern expression pierced through Adrien’s body, growing irritated with his presence. “You taught him that way. Father like son,” she growls viciously. However, she continued to keep her composure as a lady would, turning away from her ex-husband. “Not that it matters. I’m sure he’ll become more talkative when he stays with us.”

“Is that so?”

Amelia looks back slightly with a sharp smile. “Yes, I do believe so, dear.”

After the short conversation, Amelia enters her car alongside Thomas. He doesn’t bother to even look at her, too focused on his little brother in the backseat. He was screaming about going to get food from a restaurant, throwing himself around to get attention from someone. However, once he saw Thomas was in the car, his cries turned into laughter. He hopped against the back of the seat and began bothering him, asking tons upon tons of questions to his older brother.

“Why do you smell weird? You don’t usually smell like that!” His little brother whined, kicking the seat to get a reaction out of him.

“Teddy, not today, alright?” Thomas sighed. He knew how much of a handful Teddy was. His chubby cheeks and freckles on his nose seemed to be a disguise of what kind of kid he actually was. Cute, but clearly the biggest brat that has ever walked this Earth. His crystal blue eyes didn’t help either, considering almost everyone fell for them once he used them correctly.

Teddy seemingly listens to his older brother, growing quiet from behind the passenger seat. Confused as to why, Thomas turned his head a bit and saw his mother’s cold-hearted expression glaring at the little boy through the rear view mirror. Now Teddy was the most polite boy there was.

Amelia then smiled at her older son, patting his shoulder. “I apologize if he bothered you.”

“…No, it’s fine…” Thomas murmured. He wondered why she was putting on a facade for him in the first place. Now that no one was here, she could start treating him the way she always did. But she didn’t. With that in mind, Thomas was on alert. Something was off with her.

Her dark eyes glued onto Thomas’s face for a short while before she looked back to the road. Just as he thought, her questions began to start. “So, why did you run from him? Your father, I mean.”

Thomas nervously plays with the end of Charlie’s jacket sleeve, hoping she would magically forget the question she asked. However, the silence was proof she wanted an answer. He released a small sigh before telling her, “I wanted to go outside for once in my life. Shocking, I know.”

“You do know that your father adores you, right?”

“…Yeah.”

“I understand why you would run, but you must try to comprehend how your father feels. You're his son, of course he doesn’t want you to get hurt in any sort of way. Especially with your condition.”

Thomas clenched his fists. He didn’t understand why she was trying to sympathize with him. She always ignored him when he was little, so why now was she showing him kindness? Something was wrong.

“…Mhm.”

“I apologize if this seems like I’m prying, but…” Amelia looks toward her son again. He made sure to act like he didn’t see her. “Why did you stay at that boy’s house? What was his name…Charlie?”

Thomas’s heart flew out of the car once he heard that name come out of his mother’s mouth. He began to tremble as he locked eye contact with her, his breathing becoming sharp and uneven. “Wh-Who? What?”

“Your father told me his name was Charlie. Is that not his name?”

“Wh-no! No, of course not!”

“The name ‘Charlie’ is in that jacket though.”

Suddenly feeling sick, Thomas covers his mouth. He didn’t think about the tag on the inside of the jacket. His blue eyes dull from fear of what his father was planning to do now that he had his name. Noticing his breathing becoming irregular, Thomas quickly tries to regain his breath and calm down. “I’m sorry if I made you nervous!” His mother smiled sadistically at her son. She loved seeing that face of worry on him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“No, it’s not fine! I hate him…I hate him so much!” Thomas fumed, grabbing his head almost like it was in pain. “He’s a terrible dad! I hate him!”

Amelia took interest in these words. Her dark blue eyes landed onto his son’s face, seeing how visibly upset he was. “Hate him? Do you really hate your father?” Hearing those questions asked of him, Thomas grows quiet. He knew he loved his father; he was just upset at the situation the man had put him in. With no reply, Amelia’s mind immediately went to what she wanted. The best possibility in her mind. “You do, don’t you?” She chirps. The sound of her son saying he hated his father was so pleasing to the ears.

“…Mom, I…” Thomas gripped his jacket tightly. “…I don’t hate him, I just hate what he’s doing.”

“You don’t have to feel bad about hating that man. He’s a psychopath. I was afraid you were going to become like him, since you’re always kept away from everyone…” His mother’s voice dripped with toxic waste, clearly trying to manipulate her son into hating his own father. “If I were you, I’d do the same exact thing. Trust me, dear. That’s not normal.”

Thomas liked the words coming from her lips. He wanted to hear someone say that, someone tell him that he wasn’t living a normal life while his father insisted he was. However, he knew he couldn’t follow those words blindly. His mother was just as much as a psycho, if not more, as his father was. He bit his bottom lip and looked away, trying to hold himself back from caving.

“You can always tell your mother if he does something that you don’t like…” Amelia softly spoke to him, almost in a whisper. It was a comforting voice, once used to console him as a newborn. But now it was tainted with desire. A desire to make her son turn on his father and hurt him.

“Thomas, dear. Why are you so quiet? Are you okay?”

“Yeah…I was just listening to what you were saying.”

“Oh, yes. Your father is such a controlling man. He was like that with me too. I couldn’t leave without him screaming in my face about what I was wearing, who I was meeting with, why I was leaving, pestering me on and on…ahhh, you must feel the same, don’t you? That’s the reason I left your father in the first place, didn’t you know?”

“Did he…” Thomas hesitates, not wanting to fall into her trap. “…did he ever hit you?”

Amelia doesn’t say anything for quite awhile. She then smiled weakly, answering, “No. Your father is still a gentleman, no matter if he was controlling or not. I appreciate him for at least that much.”

With a nod, the boy looks out the window again. He could sense his little brother’s eyes on him, but tried hard not to acknowledge it. His mother seemed almost kinder. Was he just imagining it? Was it all just a hoax? He couldn’t tell.

Teddy’s childish voice breaks the atmosphere they had created between them. “Then why does dad hit us? Is he not a gentleman?”

A cold silence erupted in the car.

████████████████████

May 19th, xxxx.

9:19 am.

Charlie skates down the sidewalk, popping chewing gum as he sped up. He was extremely ecstatic to go pick his new boyfriend up from his house. After all, he missed him from the time he left his car. His voice, his eyes, his smile - Don’t get him started on his smile!

The slightest things would remind him of Thomas, even if it didn’t make sense. He would find himself staring at an object and daydreaming how Thomas would interact with it, or if he would comment on it. At some points, he embarrassed himself when caught in those thoughts. He wasn’t like a middle school girl swooning over her crush, was he? That would be so cringey!

Then again, if that’s what this feeling was, he didn’t mind it.

Charlie hopped off his board once he saw the house in his field of vision, becoming even more excited than before. He cleared his throat and grabbed a stone, launching it toward his balcony window to get his attention. “Rapunzle! C’mon, why aren’t you out already?” He whined, wanting to see the boy’s big blue eyes shining down on him. “Did you sleep in again? Jeez!”

There wasn’t a reply.

Charlie lifted an eyebrow, grabbing another rock and throwing it at the window. “C’mon, dude! I know you’re in there!”

. . .

“Is he not in his room?” The boy thought to himself. It wasn’t typical that he would be in any other room but his own, but that would be the only answer to his questions. He scratched his head, waiting patiently to see if there was a delayed reply.

There wasn’t.

Suddenly getting a bad feeling in his stomach, Charlie’s smile faded away into a frown. He knew that Thomas never left the house, so he had to be around somewhere. Creeping around the other side of the home, Charlie grows suspicious that his father had something to do with it. When he made it around the front of the building, there was no cars around, so he knew that his father was gone; Like Thomas had said he would be.

“What the fuck…?” Charlie muttered to himself, checking the time just in case he was wrong. His watch clearly read out the correct time that he was supposed to be there, so there was absolutely no reason why Thomas wasn’t out yet. He grabs another rock and runs back toward the balcony, cranking it back before launching it at the window again. “Babe, come onnnn! I know you can hear me!”

He was sorely mistaken.

With the final call for his boyfriend, a huge dog bursts out from the back door. Charlie’s eyes set on it. The dog’s eyes set on him. Then, it was complete chaos.

“HOLYYYYYSHITHOLYSHITHOLYFUCKFUCKFUCK-!”

Charlie bolted up the metal gate that separated Thomas’s house from his neighbors, hearing vicious barks from the dog beneath him. He frantically pulled himself up the gate and tossed himself over the other side, landing directly on his back. Instantly the air was snatched from his lungs, causing him to wheeze out multiple times to catch his breath. His face was bleeding from the metal wire scratching his cheek, leaving two long, deep gashes across his face. The dog continually slammed himself against the gate in an attempt to get the boy.

Charlie lays in the grass, staring up at the sky blankly. He was trying to process what just happened without feeling any of the pain on his face or back because of the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He sits up after catching his breath, touching the bloody wounds on his face to see how badly they were bleeding. A crimson red liquid formed on his fingers and dripped down his chin.

“That’s gonna leave a scar.” He mutters before standing up. The dog just stared at him, still on alert. “Damn. Thomas wasn’t kidding about those fucking dogs…where the hell is he?”

“OH MY GOD!” The old lady from next door screeched. She rushed to Charlie’s aid with cleaning wipes, seeing the huge wound on his cheek. “ARE YOU OKAY, SWEETHEART?!”

“I’m fine…” Charlie smiles fondly, covering the bloody wound with his hand so the kind lady wouldn’t be too concerned. “The dog just scared me, haha!”

She frowns, pointing her finger at the dog to shame it. Surprisingly enough, the dog laid down in obedience. “Shame on you, Zeus! Don’t attack, just guard! Bad boy!”

Charlie tilted his head. Did this old lady know these dogs? Answering his question as if she read his mind, the kind old lady began with an explanation. “I watch these dogs when Adrien is away. His son is always cooped up in his room, so he can’t watch them by himself. Speaking of that boy, he left just a few days ago. I’m figuring he’s your friend, I see you two together a lot!”

“He left…?” Charlie’s eyes widened. It wasn’t possible that his father caught onto him sneaking out, right? The thought made his heart drop.

The woman nods. “Yes, to his mother’s house, I believe. I wouldn’t worry, darling.”

But he was worried. Thomas himself even said that he never left that house without his father. His father was so protective over him, there was no way that he just let his ex-wife take their son away from him. Charlie knew it had to be deeper than just a visit, but his mind convinced him to follow what the lady was saying. It was the better outcome.

“Right…okay, sorry to disturb you…” He murmured quietly, obviously still shaken from the events that had just taken place. The old lady pats his shoulder and gives him another anti-bacterial wipe before they go their separate ways.

Charlie grabs his skateboard from the sidewalk and holds it close to his chest, feeling a deep feeling of anxiety rumbling in his chest. He wanted to see Thomas just to make sure he was okay. Something in the back of his mind pestered that wasn’t - He was in danger. Something was wrong. But he shook it off as a mindless worry. Nothing was wrong, he was just visiting family.

…Just a family visit.

████████████████████

The Hall Case

Part three will download in a few days…

#oc: thomas hall #oc: charlie allen #oc: freddy brooks #oc: teddy hall #the hall case #oc backstory

2 notes · View notes

daebakinc · 3 years

Text

A Snagged Thread (preview)

Pairing: Jihoon x Female Reader, ft. Seventeen and other currently undecided idols Genre: Angst, Romance Summary: You loved Jihoon, your boyfriend of three years, more than anything. But after one too many times of being forgotten, you can’t bear it. You completely disappear from his life, planning on keeping it that way forever. But when a favor for a friend forces you and Jihoon to cross paths, will you give your hearts a second chance or guard it fiercely to stop it from breaking again?

Could a night be more perfect?

A breeze warm with the promise of summer drifts through the cracked windows. It's gentle enough to kiss your face and barely push at the candle on the table's flame. The restaurant lights are dim and soft, perfect for romantic whispers and smiles glowing with infatuation. An acoustic guitar floats from carefully hidden speakers.

From listening to Jihoon's own playing, you can tell the guitarist is talented. The music speaks rather then being simply played. The melody is deceptively simple, enticing the listener to try to remember if they heard it before. It teases the ears, smoothly dancing from light flirtation to enticing seduction and back again.

Jihoon would fall under its spell for sure. His fingers would be tapping against your hand as it tried to follow the notes. As always, his mind would be squirreling away snippets and strands of inspiration to try to revive and rework in his own way later.

If he was here that is.

Instead, the chair opposite you is only occupied by a phantom. A phantom made of shards of broken promises and ugly insecurities made all the more clear by the shrinking candle reflected in the window.

“Miss.”

You glance away from the window at the waitress’ gentle voice, then away from her face. Instead, you focus on the neat bow-tie at her throat. It's too late though. The pity in her eyes was clear and stings more than you thought it would. You expected it, having seen it many times before in other faces in the same familiar situation. It never gets more bearable.

“I’m very sorry, miss, but we have a number of people waiting. If you’re not going to order, I’m going to have to ask that you give your table up.”

“Can I have another ten minutes?” You give her a smile, but you can feel how weak it is. “Please.”

“I'm really sorry, but my manager said-”

“It's okay. I understand,” you blurt out.

You get up, but do it too quickly. Your chair violently falls back, loudly smacking into the one behind you. Blessedly, it's empty. Turning to correct it, your ankle twists in its ridiculous heel, throwing you forward as well. If it weren't for the waitress catching your arm, you would have planted face-first into the hardwood.

“Miss! Are you alr-”

“I'm fine, thank you.” You take your arm back as your ears and cheeks burn. Opening your purse, you pull some bills from your wallet and press them into the waitress' hand. “I'm so sorry for wasting your time.”

Her eyes widen at the amount. She tries to give it back, protesting, “Miss, I can't -”

“Yes, you can. Someone should have a good evening.”

You all but run away, thankfully managing to avoid bumping into anyone. The shock of the cool air when you step through the door sends goosebumps up your arms and legs. A wind forces your arms to fold over your chest as insult to injury. Still, it's better to focus on that instead of the slow crumbling of your heart.

The subway to take you home is just a block away. But your feet hurt and you're tired and you just want to burrow under your blankets with the lights off. If you never re-emerge, it is what it is.

A taxi pulls up in front of the restaurant. A man dressed in a smart suit exits first, immediately turning to offer his hand to his female companion. They positively glow with the happiness of infatuation. Matching smiles. Gentle, intertwined fingers. Stars captured in their eyes.

It turns your stomach.

You had that. You know you did when you and Jihoon started dating a few years ago. One look in his eyes would steal your breath and stop your heart. You know it was the same for him. You'd seen it, felt it, breathed it. Maybe not as much recently, given how infrequently you met and how often that was spent napping together, but definitely in the beginning...

Fuck it, you think to yourself as you feel the disappointment, frustration and sheer pain building in your chest. If you're going to lose it, you'd rather do it in the privacy of a taxi than surrounded by strangers on the subway.

“Wait!” You raise your hand and rush to grab the taxi door, opening and sliding in.

After giving the driver your address, you lean your head back against the headrest. You close your tired eyes and sigh. You can do this. It's not that far. You're a big girl. You can keep it together that long.

Rubbing your eyes, you try repeating an affirmation.

“I am a strong woman. I am a strong woman,” you tell yourself. “I am a strong, beautiful, independent woman. I- I am-... I am a strong-”

The words get stuck in your throat, like they know their own futility. Before you completely lose it, you clamp your lips shut and press your tongue into the roof of your mouth. Praying you can just get home.

The taxi stops at your apartment building just in time. You place a too-large bill in the driver's hand, shouting back to keep the change as you scramble out the door.

You drop your card the first time when you try to swipe into your building. At this hour, the entry is abandoned, as are the stairs that you run up. Your breath is labored by the time you reach your door, your heart thudding even faster. It takes three tries to fit the key into the lock. When the door finally closes behind you, you immediately collapse against it.

“One more chance, Jihoon,” you murmur, sliding down to sit on the floor. “Please, don't mess it up. Please...”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself as you take your phone from your purse. Its screen is dark. Just like it has been most of the evening. It lights up, painfully bright in the dark of your apartment. Hoping you accidentally turned the notifications' sound off, you unlock the phone to look at your messages.

Hi, love. I'm here.

You didn't forget, did you?

I'm going to head in so we don't lose the reservation. See you inside.

Are you on your way?

Jihoon, where are you?

All your texts.

Not a single answer. Not even a single 'read' next to them.

The iron claws squeezing your heart clamp down harder. Is this what a heart attack feels like?

This isn't the first time Jihoon was a no-show for a date. He always had an excuse. A filming ran late. He lost track of time in the studio. The group needed to do an extra practice.

Every time, Jihoon held your hands, his apology as much in his eyes as his words. Every time, you smiled and forgave him.

He'd promised this time. He'd promised he wouldn't forget. He'd promised he'd be there. You'd believed him, even making a dress especially for the occasion.

But he failed you again. Ignored you again. Forgot you, again.

You feel the urge to throw your phone and scream, but it's gone in an instant. It's too much effort. A heavy, ugly hollowness fills the void left by the brief flash of anger. Instead, you let your phone slip between your fingers onto the floor. Just like your body wants to.

Your vision blurs as words utterly fail in the face of choked down sobs now erupting. The taste of salty tears run down your cheeks to catch on your lips. Your chest palpitates with your hiccupping breaths. It's like the shreds of your heart are attempting escape by battering their way through. Burying your head in your arms, you have no choice but to drown in the tidal wave of hurt slamming into you over and over again.

You are tired. So tired of the disappointment and the insecurities Jihoon's repeated absences seem to affirm. You are tired of feeling like you, your relationship, mean nothing to him. That you are all the things your worst fears hissed in your mind for years. The demons you've fought and once had Jihoon fighting alongside you.

That you are forgettable.

Unworthy.

Unlovable.

As you lie on the floor shaking, aching, and alone, you can't help thinking one thing.

Enough.

Jihoon sits in front of his computer in the studio. His fingers lightly tap against the mouse, where they've been glued for hours. There's something missing from the melody. He just hasn't figured it out yet. He hits play, settling into his chair, hunting intently for that piece to make it perfect.

Just as he feels it inching closer, someone knocks on the door.

“What?” he snaps, whipping his chair around.

Jeonghan pops his head in, completely unfazed by his groupmate's biting tone. “Jihoon, you're still here?”

“Yeah.” He spins his chair back around. “I need to finish this song. It's driving me crazy.”

“Is it the one you've been working on since last month?”

Jihoon hums in agreement.

“Have you asked Bumzu for help yet? Maybe you're too stuck in your own head.”

“Not yet... but getting a second opinion isn't a bad idea. Would you mind listening?”

“Sure.” Jeonghan comes in, grabbing the extra chair and wheeling it beside Jihoon. “Oh, by the way, you never told us how your anniversary date went. Did Y/N like the restaurant?”

Jihoon freezes, his hand hovering over the mouse. He had to have misheard. “Our what?”

His groupmate stares at him. Speaking slowly, Jeonghan says, “You and your girlfriend's third anniversary. Like four weeks ago. You’d only been arranging just the right restaurant for it for months....”

“Fuck,” Jihoon groans, slouching back into his chair with his face in his hands. His heart sickeningly drops in his chest.

“Jihoon, please don't tell me you forgot.”

His mind races through the days that feel like a blur. How did he not remember? How? “I think I screwed up.”

“Missing an anniversary? Yeah, I think you did.” Jeonghan gets up, patting his shoulder. “I'm going to leave. I think you have more important things than a song.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Jihoon scrubs his face with his hands before pulling his phone out of his pocket. He frowns at it. He can't even remember the last time you two talked, he's been so busy. Why didn't you call him, text him? If not the day of your anniversary, why not after?

He checks his call log. Two missed calls from you from a week or two ago. He'd meant to call you back on those, but never did. Stupid.

Then, he checks your chat. That's when he sees the number of notifications. “What the hell...”

Jihoon curses again as he remembers that one night. He doesn't even remember when it was. All he recalls is getting annoyed at the back to back beeps alerting him to messages when he was neck-deep in composing a song. Assuming it was the other members sending memes in the group chat, he'd silenced the notifications and tossed the phone back. He must have never gone back to check if they were on again.

Dammit. You have every right to be pissed at him.

He's more than aware of how much you put up with. From keeping your relationship low-key to constant rescheduling around his schedule. The awkward number of times he's had to apologize for missing a date or falling asleep while you told him about a new design you were trying at work. Yet somehow, you love him enough to always smile, tell him it's alright, and keep on loving him. Sometimes, he can't help but wonder if he's worthy of the love of such a saint.

Switching back to calls, Jihoon presses your speed dial. Unsurprisingly, he gets your voicemail. Sighing, he leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Hi, it's me...” He clears his throat, embarrassment and guilt robbing him of eloquence. “I'm really, really sorry I missed our date. I just saw that I accidentally turned the notifications off on our chat. I can't believe I did that. I wasn't ignoring you on purpose, I promise. I'm an idiot and I can't blame you for being upset with me. I've just been really busy with work. You know how it is... I'll come by your place later to apologize in person. I promise, I'll make it up to you. I'm sorry... I love you.”

Although Jihoon had every intention of going to your apartment that very night, it's a few days later that he finally makes it there. As he climbs the steps, he can feel his hands shaking. How will you react when he shows up? Sure, he's made mistakes and you've fought before, but never this bad.

Will you be angry? Silent? Sad? God, he hopes you don't cry. He can't stand when you cry because of him. He never knows what to do when he makes you cry.

Whatever you do, Jihoon reminds himself, he'll deal with it. He'll take it. He deserves it after what he did. With that resolve, he tightens his fingers around the bouquet of sunflowers he's carrying. He'll do anything to make it up to you.

Reaching your apartment door, he knocks. When the door mechanisms click, Jihoon straightens his shoulders and fixes on his best apology face on. However, it’s not your face that greets him as the door opens. Only empty space.

“Who’re you?” asks a small, high-pitched voice.

Jihoon looks down over the bouquet into the eyes of an inquisitive child. He glances over at the number beside the door. It’s definitely yours. Is one of your friends with a kid visiting?

“Um, hi. Is –”

An older woman Jihoon doesn't recognize rushes from behind the door to scoop up the child. “Jiah, what did I tell you about opening the door?”

“Don't open the door for strangers,” the child innocently replies.

“Excuse me,” Jihoon says politely, “but is Y/N here?”

The woman shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but there’s no one here by that name.”

It feels like someone poured Arctic water over his head. That's not possible. “What?”

“We just moved in last week. I'm sorry.”

Panicking when the woman starts to close the door, Jihoon catches it with his hand. “Do you know where the woman who lived here before moved?”

“No. I don’t even know her name.”

He lets go as the door closes, his fingers numb. Why would you move? Did you tell him?You must have mentioned your new address in the messages.

He hurriedly opens your chat, reading the messages. His heart drops further and further with each. Then, he gets to the last two, spaced a day apart, and it absolutely stops.

Jihoon, this is our last chance. Please call me back.

I'm sorry. I can't.

The sunflowers fall to the floor, forgotten as Jihoon runs back the way he had come. He reaches the street, out of breath. He can't think, only feel. He feels like he should run, run through the city calling your name until his legs give out.

You wouldn't just leave like this. You wouldn't abandon him. Not like this.

A single coherent thought breaks its way through his panic. Call her. His fumbling fingers hit your number.

“Come on, come on, pick up,” he begs.

Immediately, instead of ringtone, he gets the message, I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please try again.

#seventeen fic #jihoon fic #woozi fic #kpopwritingnet #kwriterskollection #kwritersworldnet #kpop fanfics

22 notes · View notes

drunkdyslexic · 3 years

Text

Telling Her.

Karl Urban x Reader

Summary - You and Karl have been avoiding each other since Erik confronted you both. Until your exhausted body shares a little too much.

You are filming with a few of the cast a little further out than the set so the cats and crew you have with you have a hotel room each for the night. So you can film a late night scene sleep then head back the next morning. Filming hasn't exactly gone your way Anything that could have happened has happened, a camera stopped working. You were a crew member down. Luckily you hired a camera from a company close by. It was a camera as the closest spec to the one that stopped working. Thankfully one of the crew had worked with the type of the camera before, so they manned it. It was getting late, the early hours of the morning were working against you. Cahce was struggling with this scene, he kept messing up his lines. Even though you and the rest of his cast mates reassured him the more he thought about the lines, the more he messed them up. "Take five, you shout." Noticing Chace getting flustered with himself."Anything i can do to help." Karl asked behind you. You couldn't be dealing with him right now."I thought you were sleeping." You ask watching the cast help put Chace at ease. "Couldn't sleep. Only got Two hours." He sates."Oh lucky more than us." You point to the rest of the cast. "If you could give Chace a pet talk, I would appreciate that." You glance around him, he's wearing a hoodie, jeans and glasses. It's the most comfortable you ever noticed him dress. You can't help but smile at him. He touches your arm as he walks to talk to Chace. "Places people." You shout fifteen minutes later. Karl grabs a chair sitting it next to you. Your eyes are hanging. You pray this is the last take. "One last push. If you listen closely, it's our hotel beds calling our names." you joke, You almost leap out your seat as the scene comes to an end. After Chase says his last line you count to five."Cut." You shout. Dropping your head into your hands. The cast rushes to take their costumes off. The crew start dismantling the set and equipment. "Thank you." You place a hand on Karl's shoulder facing deep into his eyes. He nods. You let out a huge sigh. Before stepping of your chair. You join the crew to pack up the equipment. Karl helps as you start on one of the cameras. Karl joins you pushing the box the camera is stored in. Your shoulders drop. You mouth the words thank you to him, he nods smiling. After packing up and loading the equipment and set into the van you noticed it getting light outside. Karl grabs your shoulder whispering in your ear. You tell everyone you will meet them on the bus for half nine. Everyone rushes to the hotel to get a few hours sleep. You can barely step dragging you feet. Karl grabs you holding you against him. You walk through the hotel lobby you push off him."What if someone sees?" You ask, worried. "i don't care." Karl states pulling you back under your arm. The hotel receptionist greets you as you trudge to the lift. Karl pushes the button to call the lift. "Thanks for the help. With the chace and the pack up. We all needed it I needed it." You say to Karl. Karl kisses the top of your head. You saunter into the lift. Pushing the button for the floor, he joins you in the middle of the lift. You can barely keep your eyes open. You wrap your arms around his torso. He pulls you closer to him smiling at you as you close your eyes. He takes you to his room unlocking the door. You crawl to the bed collapsing on top of it. "Y/N. We need to take you clothes off, it will be more comfortable." Karl sighs. You groan into the bed sheet. "You will have to help me." You beg."I know." Karl acknowledges.He sits behind you. As you sit up. You lean against him. As you kick your shoes off. He grabs your jumper taking your t-shirt off with it. You giggle to yourself the thought of Karl taking your clothes off, not for sex. You build up enough energy to take off your jeans jumping under the duvet. You chuck your bra across the room. Karl smirks at you, as it falls at his feet whilst he slips his jeans off. He lifts his jumper up, revealing his bare chest you smile at him admiring his body. He lifts the duvet joining you. You snuggle up to him resting your head on his chest. His arm around you. He kisses the top of your head. As he trails his fingers up and down your arm. You eyes get heavier by the minute. "Night night." You say snuggling your face more into his chest."Night.' He kisses your head again."I love you." you say through his kiss. Your eyes open reacting to the comment. You pray he didn't hear it. ...You wake up earlier than you thought you would. Karl still sleeping, the duvet resting simply above his waist. His hand rests on his stomach. You watch his chest rise and fall with each breath . Peacefully the light shinning through the crack in the curtain hits his sleeping body perfectly. You grab your phone distracting the thought building in your head. Emailing back to people and sending messages. Karl stirs waking up. "You're up early?" He states rubbing at his eyes. "I know. I'm surprised too. Something must be playing on my mind." You sigh. "Yeah. I think we should talk." Karl states sitting up. He holds his legs up with his arms. You can't look at him. You shake your head experiencing heart palpitations in you chest. You jump out of bed you throw on your clothes and head to the door.""Where are you going?"" He asksCan we not talk about this not right now." You plead attempting to hide the fact your having a panic attack. "Then when." Karl pleads. "I don't know. Just not right now." You hold your hands in front of you fumbling behind you for the door handle. You twist it pulling the door towards you, racing out the door. You rush into your room, falling against the door. You slide down the door sitting on the floor. You bury your head in you hands crying. You stop yourself crying, wiping away the tears. Asking yourself why are you feeling like this. You should have just bit your tongue spoken to him like an adult you are. But instead you are crying over how you feel. Hiding your feeling from him, for months, cause you don't want to lose what you have. After you gather yourself together you realise it's time boarding the bus. Everyone is already on apart from a few stragglers behind you. Karl goes to stand up when he notices you. You ignore him and sit at the back off the bus. Throwing your hood up you lean against the window closing your eyes. Blocking out everyone. The bus eventually pulls up outside the set. Your phone buzzes. You stand up. Announcing good news. Everyone can go home get some rest in tomorrow at half five. Everyone cheers but groans at the early starting date the next time. Everyone departs the buss heading to homes to get some sleep. You make your way to your apartment. You sigh a sense of relief as you make it home with the littlest human interaction as possible. Able to avoid Karl. You hear a knock at the door, you roll your eyes. You fling the door open it's Karl you sigh. He walks up to you cupping your face with both of his hands. You gasp at his action. "I'm in love with you."he states. He states his green eyes staring into your soul. Before planting the deepest kiss he's ever giving you.

Here are links to the run up to this one; Initiate, Aftermath, Awkward, Risky Relationship Rules, Emotions and I know.

#karl urban #karlurbanfanfiction #karlurbanimagine #Karlurbanoneshot #karl urban x reader #theboys #the boys amazon #fanfiction #dyslexic writer

32 notes · View notes

charlthotte · 3 years

Text

Breaking Through the Iron Wall - Aone Takanobu x Reader

Chapter 15

"Seriously, Takanobu, I don't think I could thank you enough for this, even if it just a flower." I spoke, my voice almost cracking from my tears. That happiness puzzled me, genuinely - and strangely, I greatly accepted it.

While making direct, honest eye contact with Takanobu - he began to fluster, a highly pigmented blush overcoming his usual delicately ghostly pallor. His mouth opened as if he was trying to say something, but after nothing was mustered - he closed it again. Several times this happened, what he wanted to say was on the top of his tongue, but wouldn't leave.

"Are you alright?" I inquired, taken aback by his disconcertion.

"I... Uh, yeah," Takanobu stumbled, "(Y/N), can I, uh say something?"

"Of course."

He took a deep breath, "So... Ummm, I just want t-to say that... No one h-has e-e-ever been this kind t-to me, so t-thank you." He stuttered relentlessly, but his message got across to me nonetheless.

I broke from our embrace, but Takanobu wasn't smiling, nor crying. Instead his expression seemed serene, almost at peace with himself - his eyes shimmered with the waning sunlight - the last of its rays illuminating them. Wiping my eyes, a breathy laugh echoed from my mouth. "No..." I took a deep breath, "Thank you."

Before long, the air became silent again, silent yet tranquil. "So... Do you want to go back inside?" I proposed, and in a return - I was met with a swift nod from Takanobu - his eyes still sparkling.

A warm gust of wind wrapped around my hand as we entered the inn, as if something had brushed passed it, only to be greeted by the conniving smirk of Futakuchi, "Have fun did we, you two?" It was painfully obvious that he knew everything that had just happened, even if he hadn't noticed the single hydrangea flower in my right hand.

"I did, actually. Thanks for asking." I responded in a sarcastically peppy tone. Waving goodbye to the two of them as I departed for my room, my eyelids beginning to droop from exhaustion. But, before I dropped to sleep, I pressed the single hydrangea flower in between two pages of the book I had brought with me, to preserve it. However, as I lay back down on the futon, I couldn't drift off to slumber - no matter how tired I was.

Tossing and turning for what felt like eternity, I grew to be exasperated, sick of the fact that I couldn't sleep.

My mind was going into overdrive - previous thoughts and experiences swimming around in my head - specifically what had happened earlier that day. That scene played over and over in my head, I couldn't think of anything else - it was on a constant loop.

After what felt like hours, there was a knock on my door, faint, muffled, almost too quiet to hear. I strained my eyes trying to see what time the clock read. It was midnight. As confused as I was, I stumbled up to the door, almost tripping over something as I did so. When I opened the door, first, I struggled to see who stood at the other side of it. But after my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I could faintly recognise the figure of Takanobu, shivering as he breathed shakily.

"Are you okay?" I asked, whispering - genuinely concerned as to why he was standing there before me at such a preposterous time.

He didn't reply. He took an unsteady breath and shook his head - his head sinking nearly below his shoulders.

"Well... Do you want to talk about it?" I queried, beckoning for him to follow me.

As I sat back down onto my futon - leaning against the wall - I patted the space next to me for Takanobu to sit there, and he did.

Vaguely, I could sense why he seemed so worried, and I could strongly relate to that, as that trepidation had been in the back of my mind ever since that day at the vet's. "It's Shiro, isn't it?" I whispered, careful not to draw any attention to us.

He hummed in affirmation, holding his head in his hands, one single tear trailing down his cheek.

I didn't know what to say to him. How could I have comforted him in a situation like that one? So, I attempted to calm myself, and tried to offer the best reassurance I could, "So... I know that you and Shiro both love each other loads and I also know that he wouldn't want you to be worried about him, he'd want you to have fun and enjoy your time here."

"But, but what if I don't get to say goodbye?" He mumbled, gazing down at the floor.

"Well..." I hesitated, "Even if you can't say goodbye to him, I'm sure he'll still be with you no matter where you are. But, in the end, all we can do is be optimistic."

"I guess so." Takanobu hiccupped, raising his left hand to wipe his weeping eyes. His whole body softly shaking while he sobbed.

Several minutes passed before either of us spoke again, until I did, in the spur of the moment. "Come here, Takanobu, you need a hug." I whispered, trying to lace the utmost sympathy into my words. Almost immediately, his body collapsed towards me - nearly knocking me over with his imposing frame. But, I did manage, somehow, to brace for its impact - resulting in his head resting flush against my collarbone - the moisture from his tears clinging onto my shirt.

Gently, I placed my hand upon his back, lightly caressing it up and down in a comforting rhythm - holding him in place as he wept into the crook my neck. Neither of us spoke for what seemed like hours, and we didn't need to. We never did.

I must have fallen asleep in that very same position, as later, I awoke, with Takanobu's slumbering form laid against me- having not moved at all from before. No longer was he melancholy, instead he was dozing, dreaming of a world away from reality.

Once again, I strained my eyes, trying to adjust my eyes to the lack of light. When they did - I could barely recognise the time upon the clock, reading 4:17. And so, not wanting our situation to appear as conspicuous to the team, I began shaking Takanobu's shoulders to wake him up. It didn't take long for him to start to stir. Once his eyes were opened, the moonlight hit them perfectly, illuminating them in a picturesque shade of repose, but behind them - was a burning veil of distress and hurt.

As he woke fully, he quickly came into realisation about where he was - swiftly jumping from where he was and began sneaking towards the door, taking caution where he stepped - he couldn't see, after all. But as he departed from my room, I could faintly see the outline of a smile upon his face. Smiling back at him, I waved goodbye to him while he tried to close the door without making the smallest hint of noise.

Directly after he left, I noticed the faint palpitation of my heart inside my chest. And since that feeling wouldn't let me fall back into the depths of slumber any time soon, I decided to lay onto my back, staring at the empty ceiling - wondering why the thrumming of my heart wouldn't calm down.

After my alarm rang, approximately two hours later - I stumbled out of my futon, grabbing my toiletries before I headed for the bathroom. Inside there, the air was peaceful, flowing along with the early morning atmosphere.

While in the bathroom, I took a warm shower, relaxing as the droplets hit my skin - figuratively washing away my worries as the soapy suds trailed down the drain, refreshing my mind for the rousing day ahead of me. The shower didn't last long, and while drying myself off, I absentmindedly began to hum - feeling happy, a rare occurrence in the early morning.

When I was ready for the day, wearing Date Tech's manager's uniform with my hair bouncing along with my stride as I walked, I stepped out from behind the bathroom door, only to be dragged away by my forearm by Futakuchi.

"So, your highness... A little bird - our lovely little Kousuke to be exact - told me that he heard our good friend Mr. Aone creep back into our room at an ungodly time this morning? Would you happen to know anything about that, I wonder?" He smirked, looking down at me, his eyes twinkling with devilish delight.

"Perhaps." I replied, deadpan, "But, please, get your mind out of the gutter." I shook my arm, trying to release myself from his grip, "Now, please let me go." I said, smiling wryly.

He raised his hands in surrender, letting his grip on me release, "Don't let me stop you." He said cockily, offering me a false sense of defeat.

In succession to that small encounter, I headed down to breakfast with the team. Jolly spirits were held high as a strong sense of moral echoed throughout the atmosphere - many members of the team unable to hinder their excitement - particularly the first years. One of which - the libero, Sakunami, sending suspecting glances to both me and Takanobu as we ate. Trying to pay him no mind, I gazed down at my food, feeling more than a little paranoid.

While on the coach, riding to Fukurodani Academy, I couldn't help but feel a great amount of anticipation towards the upcoming event. However, it didn't have much time to rise as we arrived at the prestigious academy in a rather short amount of time.

The building was huge, decadent and sumptuous, with the school's banners and flags billowing in the wind, displaying all its glory for all to see. From what I could see, the campus was absolutely ginormous, with the highest building seeming to be at least five storeys high. It was almost unreal.

As we departed from the coach, the coach from Fukurodani's team greeted us, offering to show us the way towards the sports hall where our match would be held. We definitely would have gotten lost without his help.

After making several turns and walking for several minutes, we had finally arrived at the gym used for volleyball - where the other team was practicing their spikes and receives. With one team member doing so with a large amount of gusto, a broad beam plastered upon his face. Perhaps, he was the ace that Fukurodani's manager had warned me about.

But before anything else happened, that same person came bounding towards us like an over zealous dog, skidding as he stopped, waving his hands out to us excitedly, "Hey! Hey! Hey!" He called out, bounding up and down, exhilarated. "I'm Bokuto Koutarou! You guys look really cool!" Pausing, he turned to me, "Wow, your hair is so wicked, can I touch it?"

Taken aback, but not wanting to be rude, I answered, "Uhh, sure." Sounding more like I was asking the question myself.

Without any hesitation the guy with the frosted tips, who I now knew as Bokuto, pinched the end of one of my curls, gently pulling it down and then letting it back spring back into place. His eyes sparkled, astounded, "Awhhh, that's amazing! I wish my hair was like that! He beamed, his words pure and filled with sheer wonder at something as trivial as someone's hair.

"Thanks..." I replied sheepishly, avoiding eye contact with him.

However, there was someone who didn't seem exactly happy to witness that encounter between Bokuto and I, that was Takanobu, who now held a stern glare upon his face, and strangely his arm pointed out - directed straight at Bokuto's face - completely singling him out from the rest. And in an instant, Futakuchi was there, trying relentlessly to force Takanobu's arm downward, but all to no avail. That was, until I simply put my hand on top of his arm, which caused him to lower it almost immediately. But why he did that perplexed me, as I had never seen him do such a thing before.

Moniwa seemed to take notice of my confusion, "Don't worry, (L/N). It's just how Aone finds our opposing team's ace. He does it all the time." He said, rubbing the back of his neck, seemingly feeling a tad nervous.

But, hardly thirty seconds had passed before everyone started to let the game go underway, with everything needed having been previously set up by Fukurodani's pair of managers. Who, at that point I was sat with, counting the scores. I hadn't bothered to make lengthy conversation with them, we simply introduced ourselves to each other, until, the one I knew as Yukie, sparked up a discussion, "Hey, I think that number seven over there is looking your way."

I jolted, unsuspectedly - but, then giggled bashfully, "I... Uh... He's probably looking at the scoreboard." I replied, hesitantly, while simultaneously choking on my words, feeling seriously awkward. Pausing for a second, I thought of how I could change the subject, letting my eyes scan around the gym for something to talk about. Whilst doing that, they landed on Takanobu - who couldn't have made the situation any more uneasy by looking at me straight in my eyes. Feeling my face's temperature rise, I averted my gaze, for it to fall upon Fukurodani's number seven, who was unabashedly staring right at Yukie. Which I immediately picked up on. "Say, Yukie - isn't your number seven staring at you?" She flushed red straight away.

"Well... Maybe..." She giggled excitedly. Proud that I had successfully changed the subject, I turned my attention back to the game, to where our team's reputation was holding up stupendously.

This fact had most definitely put Bokuto in a despondent mood, as it faltered and perked every minute or so, depending on whoever was leading the set.

During the third set, while the score was 21-17, with Fukurodani leading, Futakuchi had been rotated out of the match - and rather than sit with his teammates, he sauntered up to where I was sat, a slightly smug expression plastered upon his face. "You know, (Y/N), I've never seen Takanobu play like this before, he really is putting his all in today... I wonder why."

"Is that so?" I replied, cocking my eyebrow up at him.

"Why yes it is. And also, about last night - I know the reason..."

"How...?" I questioned, a wave of suspicion flowing over me.

Smirking back to me, he spoke, "Just my intuition." After that, he said something inaudible, right before he was rotated back into the game, perambulating away with a sneaky wave.

Everything else flowed by smoothly after that, until the fifth and final set - where each team had two sets a piece, with the score climbing close to the thirties. This drove each player's motivation higher, despite the fact that nearly everyone was exhausted.

The whole court fell silent as a deafening crack rang through the air, right as Takanobu had deflected perhaps the most powerful spike that I had ever seen. He winced, holding his finger with his other hand, clearly experiencing a bucket load of pain.

Almost instantly, I sprang to my feet, ready to escort Takanobu away from the court, picking up the first aid kit while on the way.

The game didn't resume, nor did anyone speak a word - except all showing looks of sympathy for the injured player. Even the hyperactive Bokuto had calmed down drastically.

As we happened upon the corridor, away from the silent commotion of the gym, I instructed for Takanobu to sit on a bench, while I kneeled on the floor unzipping the first aid kit. First, I pressed the ice pack upon his rapidly swelling finger that was turning a haughty shade of purple. Takanobu sucked air from between his teach, blenching at the sudden cold temperature.

"Are you okay?" I asked, softly, gazing into his eyes, somehow burning with some sense of intensity that I couldn't define, "Is it bad?"

"It hurts." He winced, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so, his eyebrows furrowing in pain.

"Do you think you can still play?"

Feebly, he nodded - beginning to breathe quickly, I could almost hear his heartbeat.

Taking the bandages out of the kit, I began to gingerly wrap them around his fingers, being careful to not cause him any discomfort. Each time I wrapped it around, my hands grazed his, which made me feel strangely warm on the inside. Gazing up at him, I noticed that he was painted over with a bright red hue, but the logical side of me told me it was simply caused by his exhaustion and pain. However, there was something inside of me that told me it was something else.

"Alright then," I said, "Do your best."

While walking back to the gym, our hands kept brushing against each other, even though we weren't the same height.

He jogged back onto the court, where the game promptly resumed, and in no matter of time, the match had drew to a close, with us losing the set, and with that losing the match. Something told me that it could have gone slightly different if it wasn't for Takanobu's injury. But, he still did try his best, even if that meant overexerting himself.

At that point, the entire team was exhausted as we trundled back to the coach - waving goodbye to Fukurodani's team, with Bokuto bellowing his goodbyes, quite the fireball, he was.

I think that everyone else had fallen asleep within a quarter of an hour of setting off, except for me - even though I was feverishly fatigued. I couldn't sleep. All because the memories of the corridor and the inn flowing through my mind. I had a hunch that that feeling wouldn't leave me for quite some time...

#aone #aone takanobu #aone x reader #aone takanobu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

17 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

With Their Gold be Generous, 1/5 (Rosénali) - Mattels

the year is 1974 when rosé teaches denali to love

potential tw for homophobia

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30316788/chapters/74726673

The woman handing out flyers by the corner of a mom-and-pop grocery store is loud, Denali’ll give her that. Persuasive or convincing? That’s another story entirely.

Denali isn’t totally sure what she seems to be advertising or selling, but one glance of the woman shoving a brightly coloured flyer into a pair of unwilling hands, tells Denali all she needs to know. She makes a bee-line around her, head down, no eye contact, no thank you ma’am, not today.

She breathes a sigh of relief when she steps past the woman, no promotional whatever in hand.

“Excuse me!” A finger taps her shoulder. Spoken too soon. “We’re staging a pride celebration on Monday–” Denali reluctantly pivots herself around, trying desperately hard not to roll her eyes.

She wants nothing more than to walk away from the chirping woman, slinging a half-assed ‘Sorry!’ over one shoulder as she goes, but she finds herself glued to the sidewalk.

The woman is a little brassy, sure, but for what she lacks in the conservative femininity Denali is used to, she more than makes up in beauty. She seems to command the Chicago sidewalk like it’s a stage, bright pink curls coiffed into a faux-mohawk of sorts, reminding Denali of a show-pony. Her green eyes sparkle as she talks, wildly animated and gesticulating with her hands.

“–We’re meeting outside Phenomenon up on the big intersection by 13th, you know the one?” Her voice lilts slightly, some watered-down accent half tacked onto the end of her sentences. “Well you can’t miss it!”

Denali blinks, shaking her head, “sorry, what?”

“ Phenomenon? It’s the café on 13th avenue? Y’know, like, on the big intersection?” The woman speaks with a suppressed laugh, looking slightly quizzically at Denali.

“And this is for…?”

“The celebration?” The woman arches an eyebrow.

“For…?”

The woman takes a deep breath and Denali has to will herself not to take a step back from her, convinced she might be about to get yelled at. Or slapped. Or maybe both if she’s extra lucky.

“In support of the LGBT community,” she says it slowly like Denali is a child, “like, to commemorate the anniversary of Stonewall? It was five years ago… So, like, it’s kind of a big deal this year.”

Denali feels her face flush pink. Sure, it’s not a secret that she had left her hometown in Alaska for something bigger, something more than that stupid one-light town where the light seemed to perpetually be red. Chicago had just seemed like the perfect place– a big city filled with people like her, and swarming with opportunities to be, as cliché as it seems, herself.

She remembers the Stonewall protests– she had listened to the shitty coverage of it on an old tinny radio locked away in her bedroom. When it had started playing in the kitchen after her mother had asked her to turn on a channel as they cooked, Denali had burned red, ducking her face out of view of her mother’s eagle eyes.

“Change the channel, Mija.” Her mother had said, “I don’t want you listening to this.”

Denali changed it immediately, only taking it from the kitchen and listening to it under her covers later that night when she was sure nobody was awake.

The woman laughs sharply, “you okay honey?”

Denali’s face glows warmer. “Fine!” She squeaks out, trying desperately to break eye-contact and duck away from the woman’s piercing stare.

“So you’ll come?”

“I–” Denali feels like she’s short-circuiting, brain overloaded by the knowledge that the woman is offering her an olive branch of sorts, inviting her to come and celebrate alongside a community she had yearned for for so many years. She might be bad at dot-to-dots, but Denali isn’t dumb.

“Don’t tell me I’ve read this wrong, sweetheart.” The woman cocks a hip, blue denim stretched taught across the skin. “My gay-dar is usually spot on!”

“No, uh,” Denali blushes, eyes focused intently on her scuffed sneakers. “You’ve, erm, not read it wrong.”

The woman puts a warm hand under Denali’s chin, forcing her gaze up, where she beams at her. White teeth, Denali notes. “Well I’ll see you there then doll, nine AM sharp– the info is on the flyer!” The woman smiles at her again, turning away with a little wave.

“What’s your name?” The words rush out of Denali’s mouth before she can stop them. The woman pivots around.

“Hm?”

“What’s your name?” Denali sputters out. Her heart is palpitating in her chest and her head is spinning.

“Rosé,” she shoots her another dazzling grin. She extends out a hand for Denali to shake.

“Denali,” she knows she’s gripping Rosé’s hand a little too tightly and her palms are definitely weirdly clammy despite the June heatwave, but Rosé still shakes her hand with vigour.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Denali.” Rosé replaces her hand with a brightly-coloured flyer. And then she’s gone, turning back around to continue to pass the leaflets to other passerbys, undeterred by the constant rejection she seems to face.

Denali stays put, watching for a second. A couple of people tell Rosé to go to Hell, alongside other strongly-worded and remarkably aggressive insults, but she still smiles sunnily, enthusiastic despite the harassment.

Denali reads the flyer properly as she starts walking, recognising a handful of photos from the Stonewall Riots and the subsequent pride celebrations that had happened on the last few anniversaries. It has an address on the front, written in big black letters and Denali makes a mental note to look it up in the big dictionary she keeps in her apartment later.

Her heart flutters a little in her chest when she thinks about Rosé, remembering the brush of her knuckles when they shook; the tiniest dimple in her cheek when she smiled; the crease in her forehead when she frowned that Denali had wanted to wipe away with the pad of her thumb.

Denali blinks. Woah. That’s… a lot. She blinks again, banishing the image of Rosé from her mind with one fell swoop.

☆☆☆☆☆

Denali counts herself lucky to live alone.

To call her arrangement ‘living alone’ seems like a stretch half the time when she has to share a kitchen and a slightly grotty row of communal showers with her building like she’s still at school. The tiny living room and bedroom she gets to herself makes up for it, though. Mostly.

Everyone who lives in the building seems to be a total asshole. There’s the group of college-aged guys who hit on her every morning without fail; the chain smoker who feels it’s okay to smoke without bothering to crack open a window; the couple down the hall who have loud rows and even louder sex every other day. A real melting pot of characters , as she had described to her mother on her shitty landline when she had first moved in, trying to remain optimistic.

Melting pot, my ass, she thinks to herself. Honey this is an on-fire garbage can, at best.

Although the everyone in the building seems fucking awful, a few people from the sister building next to theirs had been somewhat welcoming to Denali when she arrived.

The woman who’s window faces directly into Denali’s, Kahmora, always flashes her a smile when they pass outside, occasionally stopping to ask how she’s finding the city. She’s also remarkably beautiful– Denali is sure she knows it as well, based on the number of times she’s caught her staring at her own reflection in a mirror across the windows.

From the couple of times Denali’s met her, the landlady of her own building, Bianca, seems nice enough too. During their first meeting, Bianca had given Denali a big map of the city, circling restaurants and clubs to check out, which Denali had been more than grateful for.

Denali kicks off her sneakers as she walks into her room, nudging them together with a socked foot to put them together by her door. She tosses her keys into a flower-shaped bowl she keeps by the front door, given to her as a gift by her parents the first time they had come to see her.

She had hated every minute of that trip, if she’s being perfectly honest. Hated having to let her parents into the space that she had deliberately built up to be nobody but hers. Hated their poking and prodding of everything, squeezing and suffocating Denali, grinding her down to a repulsive paste that had left a bad taste in her mouth for weeks after.

Her room is her pride and joy. She’s accumulated enough plants to cover every surface that gets a trickle of sunlight. They cover her shelves and tables, leaves creeping around her bedroom; a trail of life wherever she goes. A couple stray vines seemed to have glued themselves onto a worryingly damp windowsill, roots growing happily into her walls, which Denali (equally happily) chooses to ignore.

She’s put up a curtain of clear plastic beads to divide her room into two, putting her bedroom on the other side. When it’s sunny enough, the beads catch the light, throwing it around the rooms and dispersing tiny rainbows.

Anything that Denali has completely to herself is some sort of sacred. She revels in being able to take up her own space, something she hadn’t had the luxury of having when she was growing up, sharing her already minuscule room with her sisters and then with all of her cousins during the holidays.

Her room is a sanctuary of sorts, a place where she can shield herself from the outside world. Built up with green plants and warm-toned carpets and cheap hanging lights that only half-work that were left in the room from the last person who lived there. She’d been tempted to get a cat when she had first moved in four months ago, but decided it was too much of a cliché for her to handle.

She collapses onto her bed, looking up at the discoloured ceiling above her. Denali had stuck little stars she’d painted with gold glitter up onto it a few weeks ago, trying to put them into proper constellations but giving up almost immediately when she had realised how complicated it was. They’re dotted around instead, shedding sparkles over Denali’s white linens like it’s their job. It irritates her immensely, but they’re practically super-glued to the ceiling, refusing to come off no matter how hard she wedges her fingers under them.

Denali thumbs the flyer again, fishing it out of her pocket where she had neatly folded it. She kneels up on her bed, turning to the wall above the headboard where she’s put up a small cork board. Despite living in Chicago for enough months to have filled it up with interesting things, it remains remarkably bare. A ticket from one of the local ice-rinks is tacked up onto it, alongside her plane ticket, which she had excitedly pinned when she first arrived.

She pulls out a red thumbtack, piercing the flyer so it’s stuck right in the centre of the board. The late afternoon light pools in a warm puddle across her bed, bathing the room in a glow foreign to Denali’s Alaskan summers.

Lying flat on top of her sheets, she feels full with the promise that the flyer brings.

#rpdr fanfiction #rosé #denali foxx #rosnali #with their gold be generous #70s au #lesbian au #background crygi #background jankie #mattels #tw homophobia #submission

11 notes · View notes

assassins-and-hidden-blades · 4 years

Text

Don’t Let Go

So this is a sequel (not requested) to Hold On that I really loved writing… I hope you all enjoy it, because I’m really nervous on posting it. I decided on the sequel after very careful thought, not wanting to ruin ‘Hold On’; but after scrutinising every detail, I hope people can have fun reading this. Also, over 2.5K words -- that’s a first lmao.

Also, this was beta read by none other than @marshmallow--3! So, thank you, Sam! Go check them out -- they’re awesome!

Obviously, this is going to diverge from canon A LOT here -- so bear that in mind.

I could write this plot forever omfg I was finding it hard to stop -- I’m really sad to be putting this away now, but I could always write drabbles relating to it *wink wink*

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! I’d love to know what you all think; every comment/reblog is precious to me haha.

Tagging: @yourlocalfrenchie (if anyone wants to be tagged, let me know!)

The link to Hold On is HERE

Warnings: Violence, Angst with a fluffy ending. No swearing, (miraculously)

Days went by. Your body lay in the train; Jacob couldn’t figure out what to do with it.

He couldn’t eat, sleep or even hold a conversation. Evie couldn’t communicate with him, as he would never reply. His mind was always occupied, for if it wasn’t, it would always end up in the most terrifying places.

The deprivation of necessities had taken its toll on his body. He was becoming fatigued after only a few hours, and he would frequently pass out from lack of sleep on top of his work, only to be woken up by re-enactments of the one moment he wished he could forget. He would be left gasping, sweating; clutching his chest as his anxiety and fear left an agony that squeezed his heart. In fact, the only time he managed to get any sleep was when it was dreamless.

In order to keep his mind busy, he studied.

Clad in only a shirt and breeches, he spent all his time pouring over the books in the train, for it was only a matter of time before you couldn’t be saved, and he had to let you go. There was a reason you mentioned the shroud, after all. Henry had talked about it once, when him and Evie went to visit the Kenway Estate. So he focused all his time on it, delving deep into lore.

One particular book was being heavily scrutinised by his hazel eyes. It was not a particularly interesting book, and in a half second of laziness, his Eagle Vision crackled through. The colours on the page, however, was not what he expected.

The words on the page turned from different types of fabrics to something much more relevant. It wrote about one certain thread; a material so powerful, it could hold the Elixir of Life.

It could resurrect people -- it was the fabric of the Shroud.

And Starrick had it.

Dressing, Jacob shrugged his overcoat over his shoulders and sifted his hand through his hair to allow his hat to sit on it. In the past, you would have done that.

Hopefully you would do so again.

He looked out over the sunset of the city as the train moved, adjusting his hat. His coat whipped at his knees; it was time to find that shroud.

----------

The night was freezing. The temporary Stronghold was heavily guarded, and was also very sophisticated; it could easily be mistaken for a house belonging to a wealthy family. He sat on a roof overlooking the property. The easiest entrance seemed to be through the balcony, but it seemed extremely easy.

He took the risk; he was already on a time limit.

However, as he leapt towards the balcony, he didn’t take into account his weakened state from lack of sleep and food. Instead of landing inside the balcony, his fingers had just about brushed against the railings. He had a lot of trouble pulling himself up and over, his muscles already beginning to ache. In the cold, his fingers fumbled around his lockpicks. It didn’t take long for him to open the window, but the lack of urgency of his body was beginning to frustrate his mind.

Jacob stalked the halls, peering into every room, and working downwards. There were a few close calls where he was almost caught, but he blended into the shadows quick enough to hide.

He reached the ground floor, and made a beeline to the one door that stood out over all of the others. It had locks spanning from the top to the bottom of the door. Inwardly, he huffed.

He almost made it without being detected.

That was, until a force pushed him face first into the wall. A hand grappled to reach his throat. Jacob elbowed the enemy on instinct, and managed to turn enough to kick a brute away. He grinned maliciously. “Don’t look too good, Frye.”

Already in a foul mood, Jacob snarled. “Wait until you see the other bloke.” He unsheathed his hidden blade and struck like a viper towards his neck.

His wrist got caught.

The brute bent his hand and manipulated his arm to persuade Jacob to collapse on one knee. He tried to mask his pain, sharp breaths exhaled instead of pained grunts, which sat in the back of his throat. His nostrils flared as he tried to jab the brute’s leg, and what was between them. However, instead of letting go, the brute pulled against his arm harder, releasing a pained noise. Jacob’s other hand came to ease the pressure his perpetrator was putting on his bone. He could hear and feel it began to crack. “One too many beers, Frye,” the brute tutted. “Disappointing, really.” In one smooth motion his arm snapped.

He yelled, the brute throwing him to his side. Before he could get up, a shoe was pressed firmly against his limb, evoking another pained noise. Jacob’s other hand tried to pry it off. “D’you recognise me, Frye?” He pushed an inch harder to keep the gang leader’s attention. Squinting, Jacob did agree that there was some familiarity to his face.

“I can’t remember angering such a handsome fellow; we can always reschedule those beers,” he panted, trying to ignore the throbbing through a pained smile.

The man smiled angrily, pressing down harder as he placed his other foot against his throat. “You murdered my twin brother.” Jacob squinted again, and realised who he reminded him of.

He growled. “Your twin brother murdered my lover.”

Against the wall hung a spear on display, it was unknown whether it was old or fake. “And now…” He pushed the point against the centre of his chest, where Jacob’s hand struck out to grab the shaft above the blade, attempting to prevent the piercing of his skin. “I can finish the job. First you; slowly, painfully, and then--”

All the pressure against Jacob disappeared. As air flooded through his lungs, his good hand dropped the spear and took out a small, agile throwing knife. He looked and threw it within one adrenaline-filled second.

The brute went limp, bleeding out of his exploded eye socket.

He drew in a few breaths, to take in oxygen and to calm the anxiety. A figure came into view, offering a hand out. The shadow looked familiar, and for a moment, he wondered…

“Good throw.” Evie smiled softly with a gleam of concern.

“I was aiming between the eyes.” He took the help, groaning softly at the pain in the arm he held against his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help my little brother -- and I want to get my best friend back.”

Jacob smiled, grateful for the backup.

“Why don’t you leave the combat to me?”

For once, that was something he could agree with.

Evie picked the locks efficiently; it took no longer than a minute or two to get through all of them.

The dark, damp room was completely bare, void of windows and furniture, except for a single chest. It was big, it was grand, and it was definitely First Civilisation. It had various cracks, through which a mysterious light glowed. Evie knelt by the chest, and by methods unknown to Jacob, managed to open it. Inside was the most intimately woven shawl he had ever seen, showered in silver and gold. Picking it up, she partly unfolded it, moving to wrap it around Jacob’s arm. He recoiled. “What--”

“Jacob, trust me.” He relented, not being in much of a state to complain.

“Let’s get out of here.”

As they escaped out of the back door of the mansion, Jacob began to feel his neck begin to tingle. There was no doubt that there were bruises there, but he’s never felt them actually prick before. By the time they were clear of the territory, the throbbing began to worsen in his arm. “Evie, I don’t think it’s--” his vision blacked out suddenly, and his knees buckled beneath him. Evie managed to catch half of him, his weight still taking him to the floor. She leaned him against the wall. “Jacob? Are you alright?”

He furrowed his brows. “Aye; I just couldn’t see for a moment.” He was about to get up before he felt a peculiar feeling in his arm, before he felt his bone snap again. He winced with a yell, before the pain all but disappeared. He exchanged glances with a very worried Evie before he tentatively pulled the shroud off of his arm. There was no pain, and he could move it just fine.

“It works.” Jacob got up, hiding the shroud under his coat. “Back to the train.” He tripped over his words excitedly -- the hope in his eyes had returned.

“Race you there?” Evie smirked.

In a sudden heart palpitation, he agreed.

----------

Jacob never waited for the train to stop, and instead leapt into the open door before Evie would even consider it safe. He unbuckled his gauntlet and threw his coat off without caring whether they would hit his sofa or his floor, heading to your carriage with the folded shroud in hand. Henry was inside, watching over you. With no time for words he unfolded the fabric and pulled it over your shoulders so it would cover your torso.

Henry was left starstruck. “How--”

Evie entered the carriage. “So?”

Jacob watched, eyes scrutinising every inch of the shroud. He lightly shook his head, expression not changing.

He became restless very quickly, from rolling up his sleeves to keep his fingers occupied to pacing the length of the carriage, never once taking his eyes off of you. As soon as he let go of the shroud, he could feel all of his energy dissipating with it -- he was extremely tired and hungry again, but his anxiety wouldn’t let him look after his own body -- he could only think about you.

As seconds turned to minutes, he became more sleep deprived, and therefore a lot more frustrated. He could feel it bubbling in his chest, and he resorted to the one thing he knew would calm it.

“I’m getting a drink.”

As he walked into the bar carriage, all conversations and laughter disappeared. He knew it wasn’t because of how he was dressed, but rather the look on his face. “Keep talking,” he ordered, praying for his Rooks to just ignore him for once as he sat at the bar. Gesturing for a whisky, he hunched over his glass, savouring the burn as he knocked the liquid down his throat. He was worried that it wasn’t going to work; that it would all be for nought. As quick as his hope had returned, it was quickly seeping away. He felt the tears prick his eyes, and properly downed his glass to keep them at bay, ordering another one to nurse slowly… just in case sobriety was needed.

----------

He took care in making his second drink last as long as possible. Once he had pushed the glass back to the bartender, he didn’t ask for another one, and instead put his head in his hands, threading his fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. When the door opened, he didn’t look up at first, thinking it was another rook. So he just ignored it, clasping a hand over the other to work as a chin rest. What confused him was the look the bartender gave the ‘rook’ who came in. He turned over his shoulder once he realised that the crowd had once again gone quiet. They were all staring too. Furrowing his brows, he turned to look at the door.

His heart skipped a beat and he froze. It was silent as he drank in the scene before him. He swallowed thickly, pushed himself off of his stool and walked with loud purpose. One hand wrapped tightly around your waist, and the other cradled your head. He rested his cheek on the top of your head and just stood there. You brought your arms around his back, and felt his shoulders begin to shake.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed under his breath.

“Jacob, Jacob.” You pulled him off of you and grasped his face in your hands. One of his own came over your hand while the other caressed your cheek. “Breathe.” You saw him inhale a shuddering breath, composing himself. “I’m here now; it’s okay.” Smiling, he pulled you to his lips, dipping down to close the height gap. You laughed against his lips once you heard the whooping of the Rooks around you. Although you both broke apart, your noses stayed touching. Jacob sniffed noisily, but you didn’t move. “Yuck,” you joked.

For the first time in forever, Jacob laughed. It felt foreign, but he welcomed it. He pecked your lips again, a smile fixed on his face. You trailed your fingers across his left forearm. “How’s your arm?”

Jacob squinted. “How do you--” Looking up, he saw Evie and Henry in the doorway. They both looked like they’d been crying. Jacob shared a twin look at his sister. Thank you, it said.

Evie smiled, another tear running down her face as she gave him one back. No -- thank you, it replied.

Jacob brought you into another hug, holding you less tightly this time around, but just as securely.

“I love you, Y/N. So much.”

“I love you more, Jacob.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Anything’s possible.”

----------

BONUS:

Evening

Jacob had finally succumbed to sleep. You watched him try and stay awake, but you negotiated until he finally lost interest and dozed off, his bottom half fully dressed, but top half shirtless; sleeping in a bloodied shirt was not going to be nice at all. Stuff like that always got him yawning. Evie came into the room quietly, fully aware of the lack of sleep Jacob had had recently. She greeted you with a sisterly hug. “Are you not going to join him?” she asked, watching over her brother’s sleeping form. “I’ve been sleeping for days, Evie. I’m anything but tired.”

She chuckled, patting your shoulder. “Henry and I are in my carriage if you need us.”

You pulled a suggestive face. “Ah, I see how it is.”

Blushing, she tried to hide a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her tone showed that she knew exactly what you were talking about. You raised both of your eyebrows. “Don’t tell Jacob,” she whispered with a bashful smile, leaving you and Jacob alone.

Looking at Jacob, you mulled over your thoughts. Coming to a quick conclusion, you did decide to join him. You stripped yourself of your heavy clothing and joined him in his bed in a blouse and breeches. As you settled next to him, you felt his arm enclose protectively around you.

“So, Evie and Greenie, huh?”

Your eyes widened. “Uh…”

His chest rumbled in a sleepy chuckle as he responded in an equally sleepy voice. “Don’t worry, she’ll never know that I know.”

It didn’t take long for his breathing to deepen again, and slowly you began to drift off as well, relieved that you’ll be able to wake up again.

#assassins creed #assassin's creed x reader #x reader #Jacob Frye #jacob frye x reader #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed oneshot #jacob frye onshot #jacob frye imagine #jacob frye x gn!reader #assassin’s creed x gn!reader

202 notes · View notes

spacegirlapollo · 4 years

Text

A Haircut [Aizawa Shouta x Reader Smut]

Title : A Haircut

Words: 1500+

Genre: Fluff/Smut/Domestic

Summary: You think it’s time for a haircut, and Shouta thinks it’s time for something else.

Notes: Whats good folks, sorry I didn't post last week so hopefully I’ll get two out this weekend! Heres a somewhat short one shot inspired by this photo from Pinterest!

(couldn't find the original artist, but will link the Pinterest here.)

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/641903753121172169/

STORY UNDER THE CUT

The soft and drowning sound of the vacuum, lifted you from your slumber. Blinking and shrinking from the light that seemed to be shining directly in your eyes, you quickly took stock of where and when, you were.

It took your foggy brain a few moments to remember that you’d taken a nap, and it took an even longer moment to remember that you’d taken this nap with your boyfriend,Shouta, who was no longer nestled next to you.

It was a Sunday afternoon and you’d been tired from staying up to late, after having realized he’d never seen your favorite childhood movie. He’d protested of course, but it ended up with you sitting in between his legs and falling asleep in his chest before the movie was over. You weren't sure if he’d watched it to the end as your day consisted of waking up, having breakfast and going back to sleep.

Sitting up you yawned and stretched, feeling that nice warm feeling from a good nap. The only thing disturbing your perfect lazy Sunday was the absence of Shouta. The sound of the vacuum was getting steadily further and further away, and you guessed he was vacuuming now in the living room area.

Swinging your legs out of the bed and into your house shoes you hopped to the door, your a surge of energy sweeping you. You entered the living room where the vacuum was considerably louder and there he was, diligently cleaning the floor his hair falling down over his face. You leaned against the door frame to watch him for a moment. His thick black hair had grown much longer than usual before he cut it. You suspected this was because you loved to help him with his hair, and he in turn loved you messing with his hair. You could sometimes see him visibly relax when you started to gently brush back his hair.

You smiled as he brushed it back over his shoulder constantly in an effort to see. Maybe it was time to give him a little cut.

The vacuum cutting off pulled you out of your trance and your eyes met his amused ones.

You’d been caught staring. You reflexively pouted, furthering his amused look.

“Sleep well?” He asked as he bent over to start winding up the vacuum.

You enjoyed the feeling of the freshly cleaned carpet on your bare feet as you came closer into the room. It was unusually warm in your apartment and you were enjoying it.

“I was.” You said in faux upsetedness.

“And then?”

“And then!” You said dramatically crossing your arms. “ I woke up in the bed alone.”

He stood up having completed wapping the wire along the base of the vacuum. With one hand resting on the handle of the vacuum he towered over you a poorly hidden smile on his face. You couldn't control your own smile coming to your face. With everything going on at U.A recently it was rare to see your boyfriend in a teasing mood.

“That’s terrible,” he said trying to put on a mostly serious face. “ How can I make that up to you?”

You tapped a finger to your cheek pretending to think about it for a moment.

“Hmmm.” You snapped your finger. “ I got it.”

He was looking at you with a sinful looking smirk and a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Hmm?”

His hum came from deep in his chest, sending your heart into palpitations. He absolutely knew what he was doing.

“You.. Could let me cut your hair.” You say, and his eyes seemed to dance at the crack in your voice.

His grip released from the handle of the vacuum and brought you impossibly closer to him, close enough that you were sure he could hear how hard your heart was beating.

“Done.” He almost whispered, his eyes locking on your lips then back up to your eyes.

“You sure that’s all you want?”

This was a trap and you’d fallen right into it, but you weren't going to go down without a fight.

“You know actually..” You said trying to conceal the trouble dancing over your teasing tone.

“I would very much like a kiss.”

“Done.”

In one smooth moment he’d captured your lips giving you an impossibly slow and seductive kiss. Your hands reflexively wrapped around his neck and it was hard to ignore both of his hands gripping your cheeks.

Pulling away for only air you could feel how the lust filled air had changed, but you weren't going to make it easy for him, even if you were throbbing with need.

He looked down at you with half lidded eyes and you returned his smirk and gave him a wink.

“Thanks babe.” You said before stepping back and turning to walk away. You turned giving him a look that matched his earlier confidence before saying.

“Aren't you gonna come get your haircut baby?” In a syrupy sweet voice before turning back around and heading up the stairs to your bathroom a little slower than normal. Once you were not facing him you couldn't control your smile from the shock on his face.

You entered the bathroom and began digging around for your scissors, snickering to yourself all the while. You stood up as you found them and not a moment later you gasped as Shouta’s hands wrapped around you and backed you up to the counter. His hands were on either side of your waist now and he pressed against you and you could feel his hard-on poking through his boxers.

He was close again his face inches away from yours, his smell intoxicating. Your lips parted a bit, surprised.

“ You.” He drawled a bit, and your heart was knocking against your chest. “Are such a tease.”

“Yeah?” You breathed out.

“Yeah.” His eyes were clouded over with lust. His right hand came up and pulled down a bit on your bottom lip, it felt like he was stealing the air right from your lungs.

“What are we going to do about that?��

He leaned down again and kissed you much rougher than before. When you reached up to grab his face, he caught your wrist with lightning speed and put them down a little less than gently back to your side.

You pulled back a bit opening your mouth to say “ I-”

“Shh.” he said, cutting you off with another kiss and a nip at your bottom lip.

You were so concerned with his hot kisses that you haven't been keeping up with his hands which had gone under your shorts and panties. You moaned out loud when he inserted two fingers into your wet folds.

“Hmm.” he hummed against your neck, peppering hot kisses as he continued his assault, curling his fingers upwards and adding another digit.

“Baby.” You moaned out your eyes closed as you were exploding in pleasure. You were gripping his upper arm for balance and you could feel how hard he was flexing as he fingered you to ecstacy.

You sucked in air as you felt your rapidly aproaching orgasim. Shouta could sense it to, as he whispered in your ear. “ Cum for me.”

You couldn't control your moan as you came around his fingers.

You were a mess underneath him, and he loved it. There were no more teasing words as he picked you up at your butt and carried you across the room, bringing your lips together the whole time.

He was pulling down your shorts as you were tugging at the hem of his shirt, revealing his sculpted body. Clothes thrown across the floor he was climbing on top of you, kissing up your bare stomach to your neck.

“Shouta , please.” You moaned out before he kissed you again, he obliged your needy moan lining himself up to your and slowly spread you open with his throbbing manhood.

The sensation was indescribable as he started to almost immediately move inside you gripping your upper thigh tight enough to bruise and drill deep inside you. Your head went back into the mattress as you gripped the messy covers as you moaned. You were never good at keeping quiet.

Fuck it felt so good and you were unraveling quickly your hands flat against his lower chest, your face in a perfect O and eyes rolling back in your head as you came the second time creaming on his already wet cock.

Before you could fully recover you leaned forward, catching him off guard enough to flip him to his back on the bed. You straddled him coming down on his cock and biting back a moan as he re-entered you hypersensitive folds.

You pressed your hands to his chest as you started to move up and down slamming down and enjoying his groan of pleasure.

“Fuck Y/N” he grounded out face controrted in pleasure. His hands shot forward bringing you down for another hot kiss, his hands gripping your ass hard as he fucked up into you. He wasn't going to last long as evident by his sloppy harsh strokes against your creamy cunt.

“Yeah.” You moaned into his ear. “Shouta.”

There were a couple more short and deep strokes before he held you still against him, unraveling completely, shooting hot liquid into you, your name rolling from his mouth.

You kissed him one last time before collapsing onto him.

It was quiet for a moment as he softly stroked your hair behind your ear, the only sounds were the rise and fall of your breaths, lulling the both of you into another pleasant nap.

#aizawa #aizawa shouta #mr. aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #Aizawa Shouta x reader smut #aizawa x reader smut #mha #mha smut

110 notes · View notes

vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

We Could Be In Love

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Naruto

Characters: Shikamaru Nara, Sakura Haruno

Hello, everyone! This is my piece for ShikaSaku Week Hanami’s Day One prompt, “Dawn (We Celebrate Our Victories).” I hope everyone enjoys it~

Sakura’s breath was coming in small, ragged gasps as she hobbled unsteadily out of the medical tent. Leaning on the wooden pole that braced the large cloth structure, she peered through cringing eyes at the dark silhouette of the tree-line stretching in a circle around the medical camp; the black surface was becoming tinged with yellow-gray as the sun began to poke its burning head above the canopy to grace the world with dawn. Unknowingly, the medical ninja had worked through the night; it couldn’t be helped. After all, the Fourth Shinobi World War had produced countless injured, ranging from minor to critical.

After the sealing of Kaguya and the long-awaited resolution between Naruto and Sasuke that resulted in the dissipation of her genjutsu, all of the Allied Forces had congregated in the medical encampment in the woods far from the battlefield. It was swelled to max capacity, and of course the ratio of medical ninja to injured shinobi was helplessly skewed. For the last twenty-four hours, Sakura had been running from tent to tent overseeing the operations and lending aid where she could, especially for the most critical cases, such as Lady Tsunade, who had spent all of her power in the fight against Madara, and the two boys, whose lives were still in danger due to the beating they had put on each other. It had been a long, hard day, but Sakura could not rest yet.

“There’s still… More I can do,” she huffed through gritted teeth. She pushed herself off of the small pole only to stumble unsteadily a few feet in a semicircle, not even moving forward an inch. Her vision hazed with exhaustion and she reflexively reached out an arm, though she wasn’t quite sure what she was reaching for. A foggy dark shape pranced in her vision. It looked like someone she knew, but with her mind in clouds, she couldn’t think of who. The figure grabbed her arm at the elbow, firmly, keeping her from tipping backwards and falling gracelessly through the flaps of the medical tent.

“I think that’s enough helping for you. God, Sakura, when is the last time you’ve slept?” The corners of her mouth tugged upward in a pitiful attempt at a smile. With the heels of her boots planted in the ground and him holding her up, she was pretty much suspended like a puppet, and the energy that her muscles had been using diverted back to her mind; her vision cleared enough to reveal a familiar visage- bored expression, one hand in his pocket while the other rubbed at his neck, angled eyes and a high ponytail holding up his dark hair- Shikamaru Nara.

“Hey,” came her garbled, tired reply. God, she couldn’t think of anything better to say to him than “hey”? She really was out of it. Snorting in derision, he jerked her forward such that she fell clumsily against his chest. As she bounced back a little, he fixed firm hands on her shoulders, black eyes piercing into her own lidded spring-green ones.

“You’re a mess.”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady, Shikamaru.” If she wasn’t using every ounce of her energy to hold herself up, she would’ve socked him. Although, Sakura doubted she could put a thousandth of her lethal force into it if she did. It felt like her entire body was being weighed down by chunks of iron; her knees wobbled so precariously that they repeatedly knocked together. As if to warn her against trying anything stupid, a bolt of fiery pain rocketed up one of her legs, disbalancing her and causing her to slump against him. “Nnngh…”

“Ugh, why are girls such a pain?” Shikamaru muttered under his breath and rolled his eyes. She had her eyes closed now, the pain too much, and was just concentrating on getting oxygen into her system. With every strained breath, she caught hints of Shikamaru’s aroma- a mixture of sweat, pine trees, and morning dew that was somehow not unpleasant. I must be going delirious if I’m thinking about how nice he smells, she thought with a small groan. “You can’t even walk, can you?” Somehow, she managed to shake her head. “What a drag.” She could only grunt as he stooped down to loop one arm under her knees and the other around her upper back. Her head lolled over his shoulder as he effortlessly lifted her from the ground, her breath puffing in labored gasps against his neck. “You can’t push yourself like this, you know.”

“Did I… ask your opinion?” It meant to come out savage, but instead, she sounded reminiscent of a kicked puppy. Her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his green vest in a display of frustration, though if anyone say them, they would dare it was an intimate action. She cracked one eye open to peer up at him; a pang of guilt twisted into her heart as she saw the almost hurt expression on his face. It instantly switched back to that disinterested frown, and he tossed his gaze somewhere else, acting as if her attitude didn’t affect him in the slightly. “Ah… I’m sorry…” she grumbled in apology. He was only acting in her best interest, after all. Her stubbornness and pride were unwarranted.

He was still staring somewhere off to his right, but she was relieved to see the corner of his mouth inch up into a wry smirk.

“All you girls… Way to tough for your own good, y’know. It’s okay for you to worry about yourselves every once in a while.” Sakura only hummed in response. His shoulder almost seemed to embrace her the way a pillow would, and the gentle heat that was radiating from his body was lulling. The way his body moved as he walked almost was rocking her to sleep. She shifted in his arms, instinctively sliding one arm to hook it around his neck. She felt his body stiffen at the gesture, but she didn’t care. She was so comfortable… If she had to describe the feeling she felt while being held in his arms, it was… safe and cherished. Sakura was no fool. He had to have been watching her all night, refusing to sleep waiting for her imminent collapse. For Shikamaru to deprive himself of sleep was, well… Nothing short of pure concern.

“You were really worried about me, huh?” she said teasingly. Through the gaps in her eyelashes, she could see a blaze of pink rush over his cheeks, though he would’ve argued it was the dawn washing over his face. “When’s the last time you’ve slept, Shikamaru?”

“Got your cockiness back, huh? I preferred you nearly unconscious,” he muttered. Sakura giggled and snuggled further into his neck, making his muscles tense tighter than a string drawn taut. Maybe it was because she was delirious from exhaustion, but she was enjoying this; she almost fancied the idea that she could love him. Sakura liked to fool herself that she still loved Sasuke, and maybe those feelings could resurface if he ever reciprocated… But she had buried those hopeless endeavors a long time ago. Did Shikamaru think that she hadn’t noticed? The way his gaze drew to her when they were near each other? The happenstance “bumping-into-each-other” that always seemed to lead to him walking her home? She wondered, if in his Infinite Tsukuyomi dream, he had envisioned her. All of this was delirious fever but also dangerously close to reality; all these thoughts she tossed around in her mind as he bore her across the encampment towards the faraway individual tents. At some point during her feverish contemplations, she had begun twisting her fingers into the thick hair on the back of his neck, tugging a few long strands from his ponytail to play with them. “Are you even awake right now?”

“I’m awake,” she yawned into his shoulder padding. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled with just as much wearied force. She had been staring at his face the whole time, watching his expressions shift, but as the light glinted in the corners of her eyes, she shifted her vision to the bubbling sun rising over the tops of the trees. Around it, the colors of dawn spread out in a halo, white merging into yellow into orange then pink then red, with the faintest fringes of the dark blue of night desperately trying to cling to life. “It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” she murmured.

“Sure is.” She looked back to him, and it was his turn to blush, for he wasn’t looking at the sunrise at all. His gaze was trained on her, accented by a soft smile that sent her heart to palpitating in her chest. Yes, she really could love him.

“Shika-“

She was interrupted by the harsh flapping of a tent being thrown open. The dawn was absorbed by the dark fabric, leaving the interior of the tent in golden gloom. Shikamaru squatted down, holding her with one arm while he used the other to throw back the blankets arranged messily on the ground. It all happened so quickly that Sakura didn’t have much time to process the shift in environment, so she just stared stupidly at the blankets like she had no idea what to do with them. She gasped, just a feather of a breath, as he gently lowered her down into them, then covered her up with one quick flourish.

“Go to sleep,” he ordered. The shadows fell over his face in such a way that it was difficult to tell how he was looking at her. He looked away for a moment, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking as if he wanted to say something-

But then he stiffly rose and went to exit the tent. At that point, Sakura was running on adrenaline, so she was going to do as she damn well pleased, any little whim that popped into her frazzled mind.

“Wait!” she shouted and sprung at his back. He cried out in alarm as her arms hooked over his shoulders, and he was pulled down onto his rump by her weight. He fell back with a grunt, with Sakura’s upper half splayed over his left arm while her lower body curled around his head. “Sakura, what the he-“ She interrupted him by turning to kiss him full on the mouth, messily and with much passion. He went as rigid as stone as she did, and his hands hung in the empty air like he didn’t know quite what to do with them. It was then that Sakura’s consciousness finally began to fade for real, and her lips slid slowly from his as her head slumped down into his neck.

“Stay with me,” she whispered into his throat. The hands that had been frozen twitched into life, slowly descending to thread in her messy, crimped strands of cherry blossom-pink hair. The darkness was encroaching on her vision as her eyes slowly pulled closed, and she struggled to hang on to the waking world, loving the sensation of his fingers sliding across her scalp.

“Say stuff like that, and I might fall in love with you for real, you know. What a drag…” Those words, so soft and tender breathed into her ear, accompanied her into the world of sweet dreams.

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

Tag List: @deliathedork @searchfortheonepiece @shikasaku-week

30 notes · View notes

grimmseye · 4 years

Text

A Bird in the Hand: Chapter Nine

Read on Ao3 here!

Rating: M

Fandom: Critical Role

Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (eventual),

Chapter Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf, Essek Thelyss, Jester Lavorre

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Molly Rez, Amnesiac Mollymauk, Oh My God They Were Roommates, Acrophobia, Violence, Tarot, Bed-sharing

— — —

Essek goes silent in the days leading up to the peace talks. It's an affair Mollymauk only faintly understands, static-filled memories informing him of something, some tension in the air of impending violence and fear. There's a memory of his own voice urging them to get out, there's a reason he doesn't want a Name, attention is fine but being known is not.

This is going to determine the immediate fate of two countries. The lives of their soldiers, thrown to the slaughter for a cause Mollymauk could not comprehend, could be saved. And that was good, yes, in a distant and grand sort of way. It was too big for him to fit it into a scope he could understand.

Essek, he was sure, knew that scope, and yet Mollymauk doubted that was the source of his stress. There was something else under the surface, that connected to the way his ears started to droop when the conversation swung to the Mighty Nein. More concerning, though,was the fact that Essek had started to disappear. Where Mollymauk had previously heard a muffled voice from the tower's door, there was now silence, the kind that emerged from an absence of a person to be quiet. By the time Mollymauk took notice of it, the absences were regular enough to be timed.

Let the world feel a shudder wrack its spine when Mollymauk Tealeaf produced the beginnings of a plan.

It would never go beyond those beginnings — he wasn't the planning sort. Essek disappeared, which meant that his room was empty and unguarded, which meant that if Mollymauk was going to break into his space, it would have to be now.

He didn't even wait to be sure. A minute spent double checking was a minute sooner Essek would return, so the moment that silence made itself known, Mollymauk was already crossing the tower's bridge. He checked the lock for anything that would explode if he tried to pick it, found nothing, and grinned to himself as he slipped a homemade set of thieves tools into the slot.

Molly's triumph was short-lived. The hook found nothing, no tumblers to leverage into place. It was like the inside was perfectly smooth, but when he tried the knob, it refused to turn.

A grimace stole his face. "Wizards," he growled. A vague sense of someone disappearing in the middle of a fight, off to who the fuck knows where — but that hadn't been a wizard, had it, no, that was the odd drawling voice that asked after Molly's swords and he didn't feel a lick of guilt spinning a lie on the spot because it made relief light in Fjord's eyes and wasn't that a good thing, better to comfort someone with a lie than torment them with a meaningless truth.

Fjord. Taller than Molly with a frame that suggested a strength he really didn't have. Sneaking up behind him and dunking his head under the water and laughing as the man began to sputter, that'll show him. Warmth in the chest as — that was the wizard, yes, the one who froze amid fire and didn't even know how to skim off the top — as someone offered a gorgeous sword to him that let him flit out of one space and into another. "Mister Mollymauk."

"Mister Caleb."

The words fell from his lips, thick as honey. His hand slipped from the doorknob, and he felt a soreness in his palm. How long had he been gripping it?

Mollymauk shook his head to clear it, grinding his thumb against his temple. Door was locked, so —

Windows. He could always get in through a window.

The brick of the towers were uneven enough to climb, though falling from that height without a net to catch him would not end well. Right about now he would kill for a sword that let him teleport. Or Nott's feather spell to catch his fall. Yasha, who he knew would throw herself off a ledge to catch him, and be just fine when she hit the ground.

His chest felt tight, the aching loneliness clawing to the surface. Suddenly he regretted not telling them, these people who were blurred in his mind but make the space beneath his ribs feel hollow.

He drew a sharp breath. The Nein meant something to him. Essek, no matter how much Molly liked the man, was doing something to harm them.

The first brick was cold under his hand. He wasn't the strongest individual, but he knew how to climb. Molly kept himself level with the bridge so if he did lose his grip, he wouldn't fall all the way to the ground below. His muscles ached far sooner than he would prefer. He might have to start doing strength training on top of his stretches. But his hooves took to the narrow brick, his tail working as a counterbalance, and it was only in the moments where he had to ease away from the safety net of the bridge that his pulse really began to race.

The window was positioned where a drop would send him directly to the ground. Much as Molly wanted to stop and catch his breath, freezing now wasn't an option. He dragged in slow breaths to try to calm his palpitating heart. Hand then foot then hand then foot. Sweat on his fingers made his grip slide, panic washing cold over his back as he seized the brick and panted against it. The pitching sensation continued, his body screaming at him for this foolishness. He'd dug himself out of the dirt twice only to break himself from a fall. It likely wouldn't even kill him, just crush his bones, sternum crunched into his lungs for him to bleed out his mouth until he either expired or Essek returned to find him.

He nearly sobbed when he felt the cold of the window against his fingertips. Molly braced his hand against it, palm sliding over the glass with a squeak. Nausea rose in his throat. Did the window even open? Was it locked, or just stuck from disuse?

Grinding his teeth, Mollymauk braced as much weight as he dared against that hand, trying to muster the leverage to force the window up — gods he'd break it it necessary —

A loud crack split the air. Molly's hand slipped.

He watched the tower fall away and blur, too quick to feel anything but shock as he hit empty air. And then something else hit him, knocking the wind out of him as he tumbled, stars spinning to earth before coming to a halt clutched in Essek's arms.

Molly wheezed and clung to him, the position awkward — Essek's shoulder dug just between his ribs, but he was more than happy to sling legs around his waist and claw at his mantel for a handful of material. In the haze of his manic vision, he saw branches of light — spectral wings that extended from Essek's shoulder blades, flapping periodically to keep them aloft.

The descent made Molly squeak and cling tighter. Sweat was dripping from his temples, shaking violently as Essek stooped down to force his hooves onto solid earth with a grunt of exertion. Even then, Mollymauk didn't let go of him, just clinging to his arms instead.

Essek yanked himself away. Molly let him go, wrapping his arms around himself. He forced a grin, saying, "Good — g-good save, Mister Thelyss."

Molly had never seen anger on Essek's face before. It was a quiet thing, simmering beneath a frigid surface. The pin of his ears, the tremor in his hands, the clench of his jaw, those were the things that tipped Molly off to just how badly he'd fucked up here.

"What were you doing?" Essek asked, voice dangerously steady.

Mollymauk even considered telling the truth. Then he remembered how Essek had physically crushed a person's body into an unrecognizable mash, and said, "Well — let me tell you — that was not worth it." It let his brain race ahead as he lifted a finger and played up his breathless state. Not snooping, not spying, just — "I even forgot to actually bring the paints with me."

"The —" Essek's anger faltered. "Paints?"

Molly gave him a grin, rubbing the back of his neck. His legs were trembling too violently to remain upright, and he let himself collapse into the grass instead. Play up the pity angle. He's just a frightened, helpless tiefling, nothing to see here. "I was gonna paint a dick on your window."

Blue, blue, blue. Blue skin, blue hair, but she danced with every other color. A streak of mischief that Mollymauk adored, and he'd snarl in infernal just to delight in her laughter, the best audience he could ask for.

Essek's eyes took on the same hopeless adoration that Mollymauk felt. His shoulders slumped, and he ran his fingers through his hair. Then again. On the third time, his fingers caught, and he tugged at the white strands, for Molly to push himself upright with a "Whoa, hey —" and then to pitch forward as black spots flitted in his vision.

He landed against Essek again, and wheezed a laugh. "I need to sit down. Like, now. Come on."

Molly grabbed Esseks arm and fell back onto the grass, yanking the drow with him to bully him into lying down. It was tempting to just burrow against his side, bask in pressure and warmth. Instead he just let their arms brush where they splayed in the grass.

"These are expensive clothes," Essek said.

"And you can magic the dirt off them, can't you?" Mollymauk looked to the stars. He wasn't sure if they were different here than in the Empire. He thought he remembered somebody pointing shapes out to him, an art not unlike the cards he dealt. You could be born under certain stars, but Molly didn't know them. No matter how many times the lines were traced, he only saw a field of pinprick lights.

"That was stupid, you know," Essek murmured. "Climbing the tower. At least Jester can catch herself if she falls."

Mollymauk scoffed. "Who needs magic? Well, their own magic, anyway. Apparently I've got a wizard at my beck and call."

"Oh, gods," Essek rasped, and Molly cackled. "I should have let you hit the ground."

"It was your fault I lost my grip, anyway," Molly snorted. "Is teleporting always that loud?"

"Yes. Something to do with the displacement of air." Essek raised a hand, curling his fingers through the air. "If you had not been scaling my tower, you would not have fallen."

"Now let's not go pointing fingers." Molly smirked as he grabbed Essek's hand to force it back down to the grass.

The moon smiled down at them, lopsided and thin. A cloud skimmed past it, stealing away the light that bathed them. Mollymauk wasn't particularly devout, but he had to wonder if it wasn't Her blessing.

The Peace Talks arrived almost without Mollymauk's awareness. They were only heralded but the shift in Essek's attitude, from a quiet that was uncharacteristic even for him to snappish remarks, banishing Mollymauk from any space the two of them just happened to end up in together. That was only when he made himself visible at all, still shutting himself away in his towers, shielded from prying eyes.

Mollymauk still wished he'd managed to get in, but whatever was coming, he would have no say in it. And really, that was just fine. Molly really wasn't one to interfere, only to react.

Just waiting had his nerves twisting up, and he found himself slipping things into a bag throughout the day. Swords in their scabbards, the sturdier outfits Essek bought him, gold pieces stolen unabashedly from a cloak left hanging up to be washed later. He hardly realized he was doing it until there was no more room, and he was having to stretch the chord to fit it around the button.

A sigh pushed from his chest. Mollymauk set the bag aside and reached for his supplies. He had a card to make.

The Eclipse was joined with Fractures. Upright, it meant convergence, the joining of multiple parts. Reversed, it was separation, a breaking point. One of the more straightforward symbols, and one that felt right as he began to sketch the pieces.

The sun, and the two moons, overlapping in a line of three. At the edges where they met, they shattered.

Molly, Molly, what does that one mean, is that you?

He was smiling before he looked up. Jester was practically sprawled over his back, her hands falling on his shoulders as she peered at the cards he'd laid out.

"Naw," he grinned. "It's us."

He was being facetious, but there was a sliver of truth tucked into it. Jester gasped, "Us? Us like you and me or like all of us?" A grin spread across her face as she pressed her cheek to his. "Molly," she giggled, saying his name like Mawl-ee with that curling accent of hers, "do you have a crush on me?"

Her giggling said it was a joke but he purred, "You know I do, dear." And again, he sort of meant it. Not really, not like how she obviously pined over Mister Fjord, but Mollymauk gave his heart easily, and if almost anyone of this ragtag group wanted to hold his hand or take him to bed, he'd be happy to follow along.

"Okay okay okay, but you only have one," Jester points out. "What are the rest?"

"You want a full reading?"

He was already reaching for his cards as Jester swept a chair to his side and threw herself into it, tail curling with excitement. "Of course," she scoffed, and then perked up. "But first, what's that one?"

"The Eclipse," Mollymauk told her. "So if you take this as the past for the Mighty Nein, this is very literally just our meeting. It's the convergence of multiple parts into a singular whole, see? Now, for present..."

He spread the remainder of his deck on the table. Molly reached for her, saying, "Here, take my hand. Since this is for all of us, the more guiding our hands, the better." And if maybe he nudged them to his own pick, all that mattered was that Jester didn't realize.

He guided her hand to the middle of the arc, then drew and flipped a card. This one was an image of two coins, one gold and one silver, balanced on opposite ends of a scale. "The Coin," he announced. "Reversed. Also known as Risk. Things are uncertain right now. We may be headed for misfortune — but it's not defined just yet."

"What kind of misfortune?" Jester asked.

"Well, they're not exact," Molly chuckled. "But maybe the Future will tell us?"

"Oh!" Jester perked up. "Can I pick it?"

Molly laughed and leaned back, offering her the table. With Eclipse out of the way — and more importantly, Fractures — there wasn't much that could give her a terrible reading —

Jester pulled a card towards the end of the deck, flipping it with a "Hah!" and all but slamming the card on the table.

Even though he was the one to make it, Mollymauk felt his gut twist at the sight.

"The Broken," he announced. The image looked like a web, twisted, jagged spokes of a wheel that ran into one another. "Upright, this card calls for..." Tragedy, specifically. Not always, but often. "Harrowing times. Loss. It looks like we've got our work cut out for us, Jes."

Molly looked at her, feeling his heart skip at the crestfallen expression on her face. He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. "So it's good we're together, yeah?" He cajoled, bumping his shoulder into hers until she started giggling.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Molly." She stood up and, sensing the cue, Molly went with her. It was entirely unsurprising when she wrapped her arms around him. Their tails twined together, mutual purrs rumbling in their chests as they swayed back and forth. Then she stepped back, going, "Okay okay okay. Do me, now!"

"I already gave you a reading."

"Yeah but that was age-s ago!"

"Alright, alright, but it'll cost you."

The cracking sound of a teleportation spell snapped Molly out of his reverie. He gasped, sitting bolt upright and gouging into his work. His face was wet. The card was ruined.

Cussing, Molly wiped at his eyes. He tossed the card aside, not the least bit satisfied by its tap against the wall as he headed for the door.

Night had long since fallen, keeping the halls dark as he nudged the door open. From below, a sound made his heart skip: a heavy thud, and rasping breath.

Molly froze for just a second, then grabbed one sword before rushing downstairs. The moment he hit them, he could make out Essek's collapsed form, small and shaking. Snippets of his voice were muffled by the curl of his own body, unintelligible muttering between panting breaths.

"Essek," Molly started, "what the hell —"

"Leave me alone, Mollymauk." His voice was a whisper. Essek draw a sharp breath and started to force himself to his feet, the legs quaking so violently they threatened to give out.

"You're a wreck," he shot back, reaching for Essek's arm. "You —"

Essek snarled. Gravity impacted Molly's chest, spots flying in his eyes as he was clawed away from Essek. He collided with a table, the panel of glass screaming against its metal stand, the sound of a crunch as pressure fractured it down the middle. A hot, throbbing pain settled in his back where he'd impacted.

Molly stared at Essek, where the drow stood, a hand still outstretched. His eyes were wide, pupils blown and ears pinned back. A croaking down dragged from his throat.

Molly groaned and staggered to his hooves. His hand dipped to the handle of his scimitar, lips peeling back as he glared at Essek through narrowed eyes.

"Mollymauk," Essek panted, a tinge of shock in his voice. His hand wavered and then fell, he took an aborted step forward.

Molly prowled towards him. Essek gave no fight as Molly drew his sword and walked him back against the door. Essek's feet were flat on the tile, putting him low enough for Molly to crane his head up into his face.

"Are you done," he asked, voice dripping with derision. "Or do you have to break something else to feel better?"

It was satisfying to watch the shame drip into Essek's face, a horrified light behind his eyes. He didn't speak, only stared, chest heaving.

It was a testament to how rattled Essek had to be that he didn't put up a fight. Molly didn't think he could take him one on one. The man could skip through the air, twist his mind like puddy, turn his body into a puppet on strings if he needed to. But he only shrank against the wall, lips trembling, looking an inch away from crying.

Molly could push him that extra inch.

"Answer the question."

"I'm — sorry —"

Molly cut off his gulping with a, "I didn't ask if you were sorry. I asked if you were done with your tantrum." He pressed a hand to Essek's sternum, intentionally trapping him against the wall. "Well?"

Embarrassment flooded Essek's cheeks, staining his ears as he looked away. "Yes," he rasped. "I... I am done. And I am sorry."

"Care to explain what the fuck that was about?"

Essek took another breath, sharp and shallow. A second. A third. Molly could feel his heart pounding under his palm.

"I..." His voice faltered, and he licked his lips. "I. Today. The Nein discovered my betrayal. That... that I stole one of the Beacons of the Dynasty, and handed it over to the Empire to be studied."

Mollymauk studied his face, Essek's pale moon pupils. There was a sheen to them, not yet crying, but close. He could hear each breath, pulling in and hissing out, feel the heaving us his pulse. He eased up on the pressure, letting Essek stagger away from the wall.

"Alright," Molly said, "that certainly sounds like a lot."

Essek glowered. "You don't even know what that means," he sneered.

Mollymauk bared his teeth in return. "Enlighten me, then."

It didn't take much. He remembered what the Dynasty had done to retrieve their Beacon, the collapse and the panic, the call to war. Essek just drew the line between the dots Molly already had.

As they spoke, more and more of that brief spark of life drained out of Essek. He sagged against the wall, cheek turned away from Mollymauk to speak to the air beside him.

It was bad. It was really, really bad. Worse than anything Mollymauk had forgiven before. Still, he listened, as Essek's voice shook through each word, until they broke into a sharp sound and lapsed into silence. And then it was just Essek, eyes squeezed shut, hands clutching at the wall as he gasped for breath.

Mollymauk drank the image in, and let out a sigh. "Okay," he murmured. "C'mere." He cupped Essek's jaw, drawing him down to press his lips to his forehead. A gasped wrenched from Essek's throat, and Molly hushed him. "Shhhh," he soothed. "Shhhh-shhhh-shhhh. Come on."

Mollymauk took him by the arm, guiding him up the steps. It was slow going with how Essek trembled, and when they reached his bedroom door, Molly had to remind him to open it. Whatever enchantment kept Molly from breaking in parted the way for Essek.

His room was exquisite. Four-poster bed, large enough to comfortably fit two, maybe three. Satin pillows, dramatic curtains framing the window, a shelf of organized components, the rest heavy with books. A bathroom was attached, and gods did Molly want to spy on what was in there.

That was a good idea, actually.

"Have you eaten anything?" Molly asked, unsurprised when Essek shook his head. He didn't say anything else for the next few minutes. Instead, it was spent figuring out how to undo his mantel. First the material, falling away heavier than expected. The metal that guarded his neck came apart in two pieces. Then earrings, Essek's ears twitching away from his touch. Essek stood still, letting him do as he pleased.

"Can you get the rest?" Molly asked, tugging his shirt for emphasis.

Essek took a solid moment to process it, and gave a single nod. He reached slowly for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

"Great," Molly smiled. He cupped Essek's face, making sure their gazes met. "You take a shower. Just rinse off, you don't have to do anything else. I'll be back up with dinner for you. Alright?"

"... Alright."

"Wonderful." Molly gave his cheek a solid pat and pushed him towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He didn't wait to head down the stairs, but listened for the spray of water as he scrapped a meal together.

He made two trips, one for a pitcher of water and glasses, the other for two bowls of soup. By that point, Essek had emerged from the shower, dressed in a long robe and seated on the bed, staring at the floor. He was mostly dry, but his hair was messier, so Mollymauk had to assume he'd magicked the water off. That was a good sign.

Molly set one bowl down on a dresser to click his fingers. "Hey," he said, voice sharp in a way that wasn't meant to snap, just to catch his attention. Essek glanced up, and Molly handed the bowl over. "That's yours. Eat as much as you can."

It was good soup. Simple, but good. That was most of what Molly knew how to make.

The first few bites were a visible effort, but they seemed to awaken Essek's hunger, as he hurried through the bowl, only breaking to take sips of water. When their bowls were empty, Molly set them aside and banished Essek to the sink to brush his teeth, vanishing to do his own.

He ended up having to pull Essek away from the mirror with a huff of, "Come on, no getting existential before bed."

When he pulled the covers back, Essek only stared at him. A raised eyebrow got an explanation: "I do not need to sleep."

Mollymauk squinted at him. "Right." He drew the word out. "You meditate. Well. Can you meditate laying down? Like, you have a bed. If you're not using it, then you will give it to me. Capiche?"

Essek stared through him for another few moments before absently nodding, and climbing into the bed, letting Molly pull the covers up around him.

"There we go," Molly smiled. "Snug as a bug in a rug."

"A bug in a rug would likely be hopelessly lost," Essek murmured. His eyelids were already drooping.

"Oh hush," Molly snorted. He hesitated for only a moment before saying, "Now, I'm gonna ask you a question here. No judgement, alright?"

Essek heaved a sigh. "That is always a good start."

"I said hush, no more sass." Molly flapped a hand. "Do you want me to stay here tonight?"

That got his attention. He looked more alert than he'd been since leaving this morning, just gazing at Mollymauk without saying a word.

Molly gave a faint smile. "Let's make this easier. Do you want me to leave?"

A moment's pause, and then Essek shook his head.

"Great. Will you flip out if I get in the bed next to you?"

Another shake, this one with an eye-roll to boot.

"Excellent," Molly purred, and wasted no time in sliding into the bed. He immediately seized a pillow to bunch under his head, stretching out with pleased sound. "Oh, fuck, this is wasted on you. Wasted." What was the nicest bed Molly had ever slept on? It didn't matter, this won.

Essek gave a quiet, breathy sort of laugh. "Your turn to hush," he murmured. "I... am exhausted." And it showed.

Molly made a show of theatrical offense, before settling back down and tucking just one lock of loose white hair back into place. "Alright, then. Goodnight, Mister Thelyss."

The sounds of their breaths became the ambience of the room, amid the cool breeze outside, nighttime dwellers singing their songs. Amid it all, Molly very nearly missed Essek's whisper, muffled and half-slurred as it was: "Goodnight, Mister Tealeaf."

#mollymauk tealeaf #essek thelyss #shadowmauk #cr #cr fic #my writing

2 notes · View notes

citrinekay · 4 years

Text

prompt from Rococoa on AO3: post s2, Bill and Holden get trapped in a confined space together and it turns out Bill's intensely claustrophobic (or any other situation where Bill's faced with a phobia), Holden talks him through a panic attack, and Bill comes away with new empathy and respect for Holden.

The victim’s girlfriend lives in a decrepit, red brick skyrise building in downtown Chicago with ten flights of stairs in between them and her apartment. Though the local police had already questioned the young lady weeks ago, Bill and Holden thought it best to go back over the fine details now that they have more information and they have a few questions the detectives hadn’t thought of.

Bill warily regards the archaic elevator with the metal fencing that pulls across the rickety metal doors. The space is no more than a five-by-five foot box with laminated particle-board wainscotting and fake gold gilding on the metal panels at the top. The interior smells like stale cigarettes, body odor, and a few other things Bill doesn’t care to identify.

Holden frowns as he balks. “What’s wrong with you?”

“This thing looks like a death trap.”

“You really want to climb ten flights of stairs, be my guest. I’ll take my chances.” Holden says, entering the elevator without hesitation.

Bill clenches his jaw, and steps hesitantly into the elevator behind him. Holden selects the button for the tenth floor, and stands back as the doors grind shut with an ominous squeal. The box lurches into motion, and Bill can all but hear the cables protesting as it drags them laboriously towards their destination.

Lowering his head, Bill braces his shoulder into the back corner of the elevator to support the dizzy sway in his stomach. Anxiety grips the back of his neck in a cold, unrelenting fist as the elevator travels at an excruciatingly slow pace past each floor. A cold sweat breaks out under his clothes, and he shoots a narrowed glance upward at the indicator above the door that lights up as they pass each floor.

When they finally reach the tenth floor, the doors grind open, and Bill lurches away from the corner to bat the metal caging open. He steps out into the narrow hallway, and draws in a deep breath of air that doesn’t smell like the inside of a coffin.

“What’s your problem?” Holden asks, bewildered as he passes Bill in the direction of the girlfriend’s apartment.

“I’m fine.” Bill grunts, “I think it was just something I ate.”

“Okay.” Holden mutters, shooting a skeptical glance over his shoulder. “It’s this way.”

Bill follows him down the hallway to the girlfriend’s apartment. The young lady is home, thankfully, and she answers all of their questions after offering them both something to drink. Bill accepts her offer of a glass of water, and uses it to cool the dry clutch of lingering nerves in the back of his throat.

Throughout the rest of the conversation, he shoves down the dire sense of panic that had followed him from the suffocating confines of the elevator, and by the time they leave the apartment, he’s gotten himself under control.

As they approach the elevator again, Bill mentally kicks himself.

Pull it together. It’s a goddamn elevator for twenty fucking seconds.

Smothering his nerves, he steps into the elevator ahead of Holden, and leans back against the wall. Holden calmly glances around at the ugly decor and matted carpeting as the doors whine shut again, and the cables protest before dropping them into motion.

Bill closes his eyes as he feels his stomach drop right along with the jagged inertia of the elevator. The pressure on his temples starts back up again with that inescapable feeling that he’s slowly being carried below the earth into a small, dark space that there’s no way to get out of.

He shoots a glance up at the floor indicator. Nine, eight, seven, six, five. CLUNK.

Bill’s chest nearly explodes with horror as the elevator cables jolt as if it had caught up on something jagged. There’s a brief pause right before the whole death box begins to fall, dropping at a much faster rate than he’s certain is normal.

He doesn’t have time to panic before the elevator falls through the next four floors in the space of a few seconds and lands with a bone-jarring crash. The impact causes Bill to slide down against the wall while Holden, who had been standing freely in the center of the elevator, falls backwards into him.

They collapse to the floor with a grunt, and Bill shouts, “Fuck.”

“Shit. Are you okay?” Holden asks, clambering up from Bill’s lap with wide eyes.

“Fine.” Bill grunts, dragging himself to his feet. “I told you this thing was a fucking death trap.”

“It went up just fine.”

“Well it didn’t go back down just fine.”

Holden turns to jab at the button to open the doors, but to no avail.

“Shit.”

“You can’t be serious.” Bill mutters. “We’re trapped in this thing?”

“Just calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down. You’re the one who said you’d take your chances.”

“You can’t seriously be blaming me for this.”

They stare back and forth at each other for a long moment before he lets out a sigh, and rubs a hand over his forehead. “Fuck. No. I’m sorry.”

“Okay, let’s think.” Holden says, glancing around the elevator. “There must be some kind of panic button.”

Bill’s heart slows down as his brain quickly realizes the fall hadn’t killed them, but the establishing baseline turns out to be something close to a sick, drumming palpitation that’s only a margin calmer. He leans back against the wall again as his chest constricts, the small vein of panic he’d endured on the ride up exploding into a perforated well that floods out every other logical thought. His skin feels cold and clammy even as a wave of heat rolls down his spine, and his breathing picks up.

“Ah, here we go.” Holden announces, triumphantly, his voice cutting past the dull roar in Bill’s brain. “See, panic button.”

He jabs the red button at the bottom of the floor selection, and the elevator gives out a shrill ring.

The sound is doing nothing for Bill’s burgeoning panic though he knows it means help might be on the way.

Holden presses down on the button again. “Someone has to be hearing this.”

Bill feels his knees go weak while the corners of his vision narrow with prickling, black stars. A numb, tingly sensation grips his extremities until he can hardly feel his hands clutching at the grimy wall behind him. His knees go weak, and he sinks down toward the floor before he can give himself another mental kick to pull it together.

Holden turns around just as he crouches down, a frown knotting his brow.

“Are you okay?”

“I … I’m fine.” Bill whispers, his voice sounding thready between ragged breaths.

“You don’t look okay.” Holden says.

“No, it’s … I’m … I’m-” The words stagger from Bill’s chest, but the breaths are coming too hard, and the sound of his own wheezing gasps are filling up the last bits of logical space inside his brain. His instincts are screaming that he’s dying, or at least suffocating to death very slowly - no amount of mental kicking or assurances could tell him otherwise.

Bill sinks to his backside on the floor, and braces both hands over his face in an attempt to block out the elevator and it’s small, dingy walls which seem to be closing in on him with every second that passes.

Holden drops down to his knees in front of Bill, and gently grasps his wrists to pry his hands away from his face.

“Bill, look at me.” He says, his voice perforating the dull roar in Bill’s mind.

Bill cracks his eyes open. He draws in a hitched breath, but every attempt at catching his breath seems to only result in faster, deeper wheezing.

“Look at me.” Holden says, pressing closer, “Listen to my voice. You’re hyperventilating. You need to breathe. I know it feels like you can’t right now, but you can do it. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Bill nods, trying to focus on what Holden is saying, but his heart is pounding right out of his chest and he feels close to passing out.

“That’s it.” Holden encourages softly, “Keep looking at me.”

Bill struggles to pull a breath in through his nose and succeeds in getting a small gasp of oxygen, but his chest quickly collapses again with a painful shudder. It feels like his heart could tear right out of his chest, but that’s the least of his worries. His mind is racing with persistent, terrified thoughts, screaming out from the dark recesses of his brain that he’s going to die. This whole death trap is going to collapse and kill them.

“Slowly, slowly.” Holden says, his voice soft and deliberate. “In and out, okay? In and out.”

Bill nods, trying to focus on slowing down his breathing.

“Here.” Holden whispers, tugging on his tie and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. “That’s better. Come on, lean forward.”

Bill wheezes as Holden drags him forward by the elbow to put his head between his knees.

“Keep breathing.” Holden murmurs, his hand slipping past the lapel of Bill’s jacket to measure the rise and fall of his chest. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Bill closes his eyes, trying to shut out the sense of impending doom the tight elevator walls are giving him. He focuses on Holden’s voice, the gentle touch of his hand. The pressure right above his heart is grounding, pulling the panicked thudding back down into reality, a signpost that this little box isn’t going to kill them.

“Good.” Holden murmurs as he feels Bill’s chest begin to rise evenly again. “Count them in your head with me. One, two, three, four …”

By the time Holden gets to ten, Bill feels the crushing grip in his chest slowly release, and his brain begins to emerge from the panicked haze. He sucks in deep breath through his nostrils, and exhales them slowly past his lips, relishing the taste of oxygen returning to his lungs.

He gradually opens his eyes to see Holden kneeling in front of him, his face no more than a few inches away. His eyes, glazed with concern, hold onto Bill’s with a silent sympathy.

Bill looks down, and realizes he’s clutching Holden’s hand to his chest. He carefully extricates his fingers, and looks away from Holden’s worried stare, ashamed with himself.

“I think it’s over.” Holden whispers, giving his chest a pat.

Bill nods, not looking up. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Holden retreats as Bill’s voice hardens defensively. He climbs to his feet, and braces his hands against his hips.

“If you had told me you’re claustrophobic, I would have taken the stairs. Gladly.”

“I can handle it.” Bill says, pushing his hands underneath of him in an attempt to get up. “Most of the time I don’t have an elevator trying to fucking kill me.”

“Hey, don’t try to stand.” Holden says, putting a firm hand on Bill’s shoulder. “Your body just released a huge amount of adrenaline. You’re going to feel weak and shaky.”

“Holden. I said I’m fine.”

Holden takes a step back, but Bill lapses to his backside on the floor. His mouth feels dry as cotton, and his limbs are jittery with spent adrenaline.

“Take your time.” Holden says, “You might feel like this for the rest of the day.”

Bill frowns as he watches Holden pace the elevator, his expression reserved yet strained with concern. In the midst of the panic attack, he hadn’t considered Holden’s own struggle with his episodes - his lonely struggle. He’d never been present to witness one of Holden’s attacks, let alone comfort him through it the way Holden had just done for him.

Bill swallows hard. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Holden rings the panic button again before letting out a weary sigh. He shuffles over to where Bill is sitting, and lowers himself to the floor beside him.

“I think we’re just going to have to wait it out.” He says, tilting his head back against the wall and glancing over at Bill. “Sorry. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s under control.” Bill says, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes.

Holden crosses his arms over his knees, and stares straight ahead as Bill lights his cigarette and takes a slow drag.

Bill smokes, casting surreptitious glances out of the corner of his eye at Holden’s stoic profile. His chest squeezes, this time not out of fear or panic. The flinch is more of an ashamed response to his own selfish opinions of Holden and his panic attacks, the way he’d spent weeks viewing it as some kind of personal shortcoming that could have been avoided.

Finally, Bill lets out a sigh. “I think I owe you an apology.”

“Why’s that?” Holden asks, casting a curious glance over at him.

“I’ve never … Before today, I didn’t know.” Bill says, quietly. “What you’ve been going through since Kemper and Vacaville.”

Holden’s gaze drops to the floor, and he purses his lips. “The first time, I thought I was having a heart attack and dying. The second time, I knew that wasn’t true, but it still felt like it. You know, the worst part about having a panic attack is being terrified that it’s going to happen again - over and over again.”

Bill pinches his cigarette harder between his fingers, watching ashes trail faintly towards the carpet.

Holden draws in a deep breath. “Eventually, you learn to anticipate it, and protect yourself from situations that could trigger one; but it can happen anywhere at any time.”

“What can you do?” Bill asks, quietly.

Holden gives a shrug, and morose smile. “Plan for the worst.”

The superintendent and the building handyman arrive fifteen minutes later to pry the doors open. Both men apologize profusely when they realize their ancient elevator had nearly injured two FBI agents. Bill tells them sternly to get the thing fixed or better yet, replace the entire dysfunctional unit.

Once they’re back out on the sidewalk, he stands still to breathe in a deep breath of fresh, clean air.

Holden walks ahead of him to the car, seemingly unperturbed by the entire incident. Bill wonders if that just means he isn’t claustrophobic, or if he’s become so jaded that such a stressful encounter barely touches the stratospheric bar of his own panic disorder any longer.

He catches up to Holden on the sidewalk beside their car.

“Holden.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” Bill says, “It could have been a lot worse.”

Holden musters a smile. “You're welcome. I don’t think you have anything to worry about as long as you stay away from tiny elevators that should have been decommissioned in the sixties.”

Bill chuckles. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Holden ducks into the car, and Bill slides behind the wheel to drive them back to the precinct. Their conversation turns back to the case as they speed down the freeway, windows open to let in the fresh breeze. Bill figures they won’t talk about it again because that’s what he prefers and he knows Holden respects him; but maybe, in the future, the silent understanding will continue. Bill doesn’t like to be indebted to anyone, and he quietly hopes that he can find a way to repay Holden someday soon.

#bill x holden #mindhunter #my writing

8 notes · View notes

ynnassii · 4 years

Text

Elevator Encounter -Hoseok |pt1|

Word Count: 2655

Genre: flufffiest fluff/ cuteness overload

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Synopsis: What will happen when you get stucked in an elavator together with you bias?

The moment you stepped out of the store, you stretched your arms out to your sides and let out the air from your mouth sharply. Three long exhausting hours in queued line, you felt your calves and legs stiffened and cramped up.

You rest your hands on you knees as you retrieved back the air you thought your lungs was deprived for hours, and as soon as your eyes landed on the bag slung on your forearm, you felt your body tingle with excitement. A grin streched widely on your lips as you stare at it with awe.

After long hours of waiting, you finally got your own BT21 Mang cushion that you couldn't wait to bring home and hug to sleep. The mall nearby just had its soft opening of BT21 store and you were one of the lucky ones to get the item, in fact the luckiest when you got the last one available.

You let out a squeal with both hands covering your mouth, creating a muffled excited scream as you stomped your feet repeatedly on the ground.

"It was totally worth it~" you mumbled in a sing-sang tone while glancing back at the store that was still full of ARMYs inside. Your eyes traveled back to your BT21 bag and your lips quirked into a big smile, not caring if you'd hurt your cheeks from too much smiling.

You were overjoyed, and for you it was the best thing that ever happened to you, second to meeting Hoseok of course, you thought.

You were blissfully skipping while humming to 'EGO', your ponytail swung behind your head as you made your way towards the elevator.

The elevator finally came up to your floor, and the ping sound resounded. You entered into an empty space and as soon as the door opened, you quickly pressed the button going to second floor. You planned to stop by a coffee shop, might as well enjoy a freshly baked buns along with it.

As the door closed, your eyes darted to your cheery expression from its mirror walls upfront, suddenly a bubble of excitement build up inside you. Your shoulders grooved up and down to the non-existent music, your body swayed on both sides with your eyes shut as you wrapped your arm tightly around your Mang cushion.

Lost in your own world, you didn't noticed the elevator door had opened, revealing a stunned guy who was completely dazed with your silly dance moves you unknowingly doing in front of him.

His eyes landed on the bag you were hugging, his perplexed expression turned into a huge smile and soon followed by a soft chuckle, making your body fliched at the sound. Your eyes shot open, meeting his crescent formed eyes.

You gawked at him with unbelieving eyes and mumbled breathlessly, "n-no way"

He went in before the door closed, pressed the button '2' and went to the far left, leaning his shoulder comfortably on its mirror wall while his hands tucked away in the front pocket.

Even with mask covering the half of his face, his almond- shaped eyes that you memorized too well, his fluffly hair, cutely accessorized bag, fashionable oversized clothes. You could easily tell who he was. Everything about him screams HOSEOK, but you decided not to tell him. You were afraid that he might feel uncomfortable. Thus, your resolve was not to invade his personal time.

"You must be in a good mood? " he interrupted your fuzzy mind as you glanced at him in widened eyes, you still find it hard to believe that he was standing right in front of you.

"uhh- I uhh, yeah." you squirmed when your voice cracked, fighting the urge to punch yourself for your lame response. You cursed under your breath after embarrassing yourself for the second time, but he only giggled.

"May I ask why?" he asked in an enthusiastic manner. His bright voice was so pleasant to your ears that it effortlessly made your heart beat like crazy.

"I bought a mang cushion. It's a BT21 character made by BTS" you mustered to say, not letting your voice to falter as you explain the already known fact that you knew he knows too well, and lift your head up to meet his eyes with your biggest smile.

"Oh really?" you heard him chuckled under the mask as he leaned on his back to get himself a better view of you,while folding his arms against his chest.

The moment was surreal. Your hands were ice cold, your knees were wobbly, treathening to collapse anytime but you knew that if you let this moment slip away you will regret it for life, you decided to knock some sense on you and enjoy this once in a lifetime opportunity.

"Are you a fan of BTS?"

" Yes and you are my bias, Hoseok" when you firmly decided to seize the moment, it wasn't meant to turn out this way, but the words came out bullet fast that it slipped out your mouth before realizing it. You abruptly covered you mouth but you realized it was too late when his expression stiffened, his brows raised high over his widdened eyes.

" You know me?" his voice sounded astonished, you avoided his gaze and lowered your head as you fiddled with your fingers nervously.

" ah yes I do but I was- I am sorry i wasnt planning to disturb you or something but-"

"No it's fine." he interrupted as he waved his hand in front of you and chuckled softly, "I was just shocked that you managed to recognize me even with a mask on, you didn't offend me in any way, dont worry" he explained in a calm tone, assuring you he was okay with it.

"ohh that's a relief" you pressed a hand on your chest as you felt your body loosened up. You leaned your back on the mirror wall and stood there opposite to each other.

"You're such a thoughtful fan, I appreciate that. What's your name?" he asked and came a curious tilt of his head.

"I'm Y/N" you answered, a sheepish smile stretched on both side of your lips.

He replied a nod with a lingering smile under his mask and abruptly shoved his hand inside his tote bag and took out a piece of paper and pen. He scribbled something on it and reached out his hand towards you afterwards, signaling you to take it.

Your eyes sparkled in delight, your lips formed into a childish grin the moment you held the paper that had become one of your most treasured possessions.

It was his autograph with a little message 'you are my hope' on the lower right and your name written under it.

He lowered his mask to his chin, revealing his effortlessly beautiful face. He has the prettiest cheekbones, perfectly high nose and sculpted sharp jawline. Seeing him this close, you realized his photos and videos you've seen before didnt do him justice.

You stared at him dumfounded with your mouth slightly agaped "That's for my good ARMY~" he said in tiny cute voice as he gave you a quick smile that made his lil dimples appear. He took a step closer and gently pet your hair.

Your body stiffened from his touch, your heart thumping rapidly against your chest.

You hoped the moment won't end but luck must not be on your side when something unexpected happened.

You felt an intense rumbling underneath the floor that was followed by a loud screech. The lights flickered on and off that soon enough came back to normal, however the elevator stilled and completely stopped moving.

“What the hell.” Hoseok muttered, shock audible inside his words as he began pressing the buttons in front of you frantically.

Being stuck in a place with Hoseok was a dream come true but the fact that you were stucked in a enclosed narrow space was a nightmare. Your claustrophobia was to blame.

Your hands started trembling, your heart were palpitating in a higher frequency.

"This cant be happening" you mumbled in gritted teeth as you fought the urge of panic seeping through your body but you felt you were losing the battle.

You rubbed your tightened chest, trying hard to catch your staggering breath. Beads of cold sweat started to form on your forehead as you gripped hard on the handrail when you felt your legs was about to give out.

"What's wrong?" he turned to you when he heard a comotion you created from behind.

"I-I can't breathe" you mumbled under your ragged breathe and kept you eyes shut, hoping all the negative thoughts contributing to your phobia would go away.

You heard him gasped loudly, "Oh my god! What should I do?" he asked in a panicked voice. His hands placed on the sides of his head as his eyes trailed up and down on you and stopped on your face to look in your eyes with terror.

He frantically searched for something inside his bag and brought out his tumbler quickly, "Here have some water, will this help?" he stretched his arm towards you with the tumbler on his hand.

You abruptly accepted his offer with a nod and gulped down the content of its last drop not minding the thoughts of possible indirect kiss, but if it had occured on a different situation you would have definitely freaked out.

"Thanks" was all you mustered to say in a weak voice as you gave the tumbler back to him.

You allowed yourself to slip down the wall and sit down the floor in an idian sit position and rest your hands atop your knees with your head hanged low, your bt21 bag placed on one side.

He followed you and lowered himself beside you, his both legs stretched out. He was close that you felt his arm slightly brushed against yours.

"Are you feeling better?" his voice laced with worry. His brows furrowed while his eyes carefully traced down your face with a hardened expression.

"A little" you muttered weakly, your shoulder heaved up and down but now in lesser intensity.

All of a sudden, you felt the warmth of the contact to your skin that made you flinch and smoothly slipped his slender hand on top of yours and held it firmly, you shot your head up only to be met by a soft smile that touched the corner of his mouth, his small dimples reappeared.

"Breathe with me" he spoke softly and kept his eyes focused on yours as you nodded in response and gave his hand atop of yours a gentle squeeze

"Inhale... Exhale... " you followed his lead and repeated after him while looking at him deep in his eyes and miraculously it made you feel better.

His warm eyes that presented gentleness and trustworthiness, You felt you were safe.

You both did the breathing exercise for a multiple times until your breathing has gotten back to normal.

"I think I am okay now"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, thank you Hoseok"

A comfortable silence enveloped between both of you. You let it linger for a moment until you spoke.

"It never crossed my mind that I'd meet you in an unlikely situation. This is crazy. " you blurted as you laughed and you weren’t sure if you imagined it but it was almost as if his eyes were fondly looking at you.

"I wasnt expecting this too, I had plans to enjoy this free time but being stuck with you wasn't completely bad." he shrugged, a lopsided smile formed on his lips, " You're comfortable to be with" he continued.

You felt your heart was fluttering inside your chest, hundreds of butterflies were roaming in your stomach.

Your eyes traveled back to your enlaced hand only realizing that he was holding your hand the whole time.

"I think you can-uhm let go"

"Oh yea- yea sorry" he moved his hand away swiftly as if he was grounded by your touch and looked away while clearing his throat awkwardly , you peeped your eyes over his reflection on the mirror upfront and you saw a faint tint of pink on his cheeks.

All of a sudden you felt the ground underneath you started moving again.

You were both dazed, body still slumped on the floor when the doors opened. Thankfully nobody was around.

At first neither of you moved, not willing to get away from this little bubble that had formed around the two of you just yet. Then Hoseok first straightened up and pulled up his mask,extending his hands to you so that you could pull yourself up at them. You laid your palms on his, and enjoyed the way his fingers curled around yours as he helped you get up. They lingered for a little longer than necessary before letting go.

He signaled you to go out first and he followed behind you as made you way to the exit.

" So uhm you going home?" He rubbed his nape, awkwardly shifting his weight between his legs. You both faced each other, a lingering smile on both your faces.

"No I'll stop by starbucks I probably need some caffeine, how about you?" Your eyes watched him with anticipation, hoping that he would somehow stay a bit longer.

"Oh me? Ill go check out some new KAWS items before I go back to our dorm" he blurted out, his voice hesitant. Your bright smile instantly fades from your face.

"Oh- okay.... Im really glad to meet you, Hoseok" you were beyond happy, but saying goodbye after a short bittersweet encounter, you felt a slight pang on your chest.

"Same here, uhm I should go... Bye-bye Y/N" hint of sadness was evident on his voice, or it was just your wishful thinking. He waved goodbye and turned his back on you.

You gave one final glance at his departing image, walking away from you. You turned on your heel, with a heavy heart as you took lazy steps away from him.

"Wait Y/N." you heard him call out that made you body automatically turn around before realizing it. He was sprinting towards you and heaved loudly before he spoke.

" Im actually a big fan of coffee, mind if I accompany you?" he scatched his temple awkwardly, his eyes looking elsewhere to avoid your gaze.

Being a fan of Hoseok, you know too well that he wasn't fond of coffee. Just by the look on his face you could already tell he was making an excuse knowing how bad he is at lying, yet you find it adorable of him to make such silly excuses.

A playful smile appeared on your lips as you looked at him dearly.

"I mean unlike you, I cant just Google you and find out more about you... I shoudnt have said that" he blurted out loud, the last words were spoken timidly as his hand covered his lips and defiantly made himself chuckle.

"May I?" you could hear him talk in pout, his eyes exactly looked like his favorite emoji.

You suppressed the urge to giggle at his sweet demeanor, His cuteness that charmed you since day one.

You liked Hoseok as an idol but meeting him personally made you like him even more. The reason behind wasn't just his beauty, it was his personality that you fell in love with in the first place.

You know much he easily gets scared yet he managed to stay strong for you. He chose to be brave for your own good. You still remembered how his soft hands slightly trembled earlier, yet he concealed it with his warmest smile.

There are some moments when a small coincidence you experience grows into a huge thing called fate, and you were ready to face what lies ahead.

"Sure!"

-fin-

(A/N: lemme know your thoughts about this one, your comments will be much appreciated~)

4 notes · View notes

atinywriting · 5 years

Text

Bloody Pen | Wooyoung Serial Killer AU Chapter 2

The First Blood

“You’re late.”

Yeosang’s icy eyes regarded you as you burst through the door with a bang. You put your hands on your knees as you heavily panted. “Sorry—and I don’t know how—but I somehow forgot.” Yeosang raised an eyebrow. “That’s unlike you.” He peered at you from head to toe. Upon realizing the type of clothes you were wearing and how noticeably much neater you looked, it clicked in his head. A teasing smirk pulled at his lips. He put his hand to his chin and drawled, “Aw. Has our ‘forever alone’ writer found some love?”

You raised up a finger, still breathing heavily and huffed out, “Shut up.” “Alright. Alright.” Yeosang playfully rolled his eyes and patted the sofa chair. “Now, lets go over your manuscript so far. Shall we?” You collapsed on to the sofa and waved your hand. “Go on.” “It will be very quick.” Yeosang hummed and flipped to a specific page. “You have gotten more popular among the crime readers community. However, the same problem still remains.” You sighed. “Is it about the deaths being too general and not creative enough?” “Correct.” Yeosang nodded. “Your most creative one was when you killed off the civilian with the air injections to cover that it was a murder. But now” He pointed to the big written out letters on top of the page that screamed ‘BE MORE CREATIVE’. You grabbed the manuscript from Yeosang’s hands and eyed over it. You immediately noted the lack of marks in other pages. A few marks were made for punctuation and grammar. “So, I should take it further?“ You inquired. “If you do, it would add more to the suspense. If you’re wondering about the lack of marks, I think you did a wonderful job creating the suspense. It’s only that one problem you have.”

You nodded, thanking him and leaving for home. As soon as you got inside your apartment door, you kicked your shoes off. You grabbed your phone and texted a quick ‘Hello!’ to Wooyoung before tossing the phone onto the bed. You cracked your fingers and began to type on the laptop. Hours passed by until the sun set and late night fell. You banged your head against the desk and groaned as you slumped down in your chair. How the heck were you supposed to make the deaths more creative? You grumbled. Screw. This. Goddamn. Writer’s. Block. A ping rang from your phone. You glanced over at it and you squinted your tired eyes at the side of your bed. Who could be texting you this late at night? You walked over and picked the phone up. Your eyes widened, heart palpitating at the words on the screen. It was Wooyoung. If I said I was a killer, would you like me to take you out next weekend? ;) Your mouth fell open and you clutched your phone to your racing heart. Wow, were you really loving the heck out of his pick up lines. You pursed your lips as you tapped on the keyboard. Your finger hovered over the send button before finally pressing it. I think it would be a Crime and Punishment to refuse. A few seconds later and another text immediately popped up. Saturday it is. 6 PM at the Sen Restaurant. My treat :) You squealed in delight and fist bumped the air. Way to go! You cheered in your head. You actually got a guy to be interested in you enough for another date! The next week quickly arrived as you counted down the days. You waited in the front. You clutched your bag where your manuscript laid and tapped your feet. A familiar loud, high pitched “Hello!” made you turn to the side. A smile spread across your face upon seeing the familiar silver haired man. You waved. “Hello again, Wooyoung.” He beamed back and slid his around you. “Shall we go in?” With a nod of your head, Wooyoung led you in to your seats. While eating, Wooyoung asked about you and your writing. You immediately rambled, fired up as you blabbered about your fascination since childhood with crimes. Specifically with murderers, the way they killed and their psychological state. You were unaware in the midst of your rambles, however, how Wooyoung’s eyes darkened and how his tongue swiped over his lips as he listened to you. You stopped in the middle of your chatter and your cheeks burned when he grasped your hand. Wooyoung smirked at this as he intertwined his hands with yours. “Have you ever dated anyone before?” At your silence, Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “No?” You looked down and muttered, “No one’s ever been interested in me before. I mean, I was just the quiet bookworm in the corner.” Wooyoung looked at you in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? I’d kill to have someone like you.” Quite literally, he mused to himself. You jumped up in your seat. Right! You grabbed inside of your bag and handed the papers to Wooyoung. “Would you like to read the manuscript for my next book?” An unreadable emotion flashed in Wooyoung’s eyes at the offer. He immediately snatched the papers from your hands without a word. Minutes passed by as Wooyoung flipped page by page. The same trembling feeling rushed through his body just like when he read your other books. He was in love. He was obsessed. But... “The kill doesn’t seem to be anything that interesting,” he noted. It was an effective way to kill. But, the description was far too short. Too dull for his taste. “I know.” You bit your lip and nodded. “Which was why I was wondering if you could help me with those parts.” His body heated up at the invitation like a fever. A fire bubbled and boiled under his skin and through his blood. He had to take a deep breath to calm himself down before he could laugh. Damn, were you driving him crazy. No one had ever inspired this much blood lust in him. “I will.” At his reply, your head perked up. “But, it’s a bit late. You should be home by now.” You seemed to deflate a bit but nodded. Were you eager as him about the art of killing? Wooyoung walked you to your car and waved as you drove away. He whistled as he walked to his parked place. He wasn’t sure why but he found you to be like an adorable puppy. The way your eyes shined when you rambled was cute. The way you blushed at him was cute. A stumbling old man with a beer bottle in hand suddenly bumped into him, interrupting his thoughts. The bottle dropped and glass shattered across the floor. “You brat!” The man screamed. Wooyoung scrunched up his nose at the rancid smell of alcohol and turned to the man. It was clear the man with his messy hair, unshaved face, grime on his face and dirtied, old clothes that he was homeless. Wooyoung’s eyes surveyed around him. No one was around this late into the evening as usual. A brilliant idea popped into his mind. A way to help your writing get more creative with murders. Why not test it out now? Wooyoung plastered on a smile and he slipped on his gloves that were stuffed into his jacket. “Have you been homeless for some time?” “Yeah! And what of it?” “You look like you need a bit of kindness in your life. I have a spare room you can use for the night.” Upon hearing the words, the man’s eyes almost bulged out of his head. “You’re lyin’,” he whispered in disbelief. Wooyoung shook his head and laid his gloved hand on the man’s shoulder. “I assure you, sir. I am not lying.” It was a ten minute silent drive to his house. Wooyoung led the staggering man in. “Have you been alone for long?” Wooyoung asked. Not that he cared for the man’s back story anyways. But, small talk always made people feel more comfortable and unsuspecting. He slipped multiple sleeping pills into the drink and mixed until it fully dissolved. He walked over to him and handed the drink with the sweetest smile he could muster.

“Enjoy.” The effects were immediate. The old man’s eyes grew hazy and they finally closed. Wooyoung let out a chuckle as the man fell to the floor with a thud. No one would miss him. The next day came. It was a normal Sunday morning like any other for Chief Park Seonghwa who had just arrived to the station and went into his office with a cup of coffee in hand. The door opened and he looked up. It was the new officer, Choi Jongho, that had been transferred to this precinct some months ago. Jongho held up an envelope. “There’s an envelope addressed to you. But the sender’s name isn’t on here.” “Let me see.” Seonghwa grabbed the envelope. To Captain Park Seonghwa Chief of Police Nocturne Town Police Department The handwriting was messy but was thankfully somewhat legible for him to read. He slid the envelope open and inside laid a small note. Dear Chief Park, Drawn from the deck is 12. Early start of the week, the clock shall tick down. An evening full moon rises on the third. The PENDUlum hangs from the trees. Here is your hint. good luck and lets have some fun. Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed as he read the small piece of paper over and over. He glanced at the calendar on his desk. The 3rd of April had a white circle in the corner of the square to indicate the full moon. Trees... Considering it was written in plural, perhaps it was reference to the small forest on the outskirts of Nocturne Town? “Jongho? I want you to drive over to the Lille Forest this Wednesday.“ Jongho‘s eyes widened and he fiddled with his fingers. “Is it a serious threat?” Seonghwa shook his head. “It is just a hunch.” He flipped over the note to show Jongho. “But, precaution should be taken. We can’t take things lightly, just in case.” “Ah, I see.” Jongho straightened his stance. “Am I going alone?” Seonghwa shook his head. “No, I’ll inform Yunho and get him to come with you. Understood?” Jongho nodded and went out the office door. Seonghwa gazed at the drawer where the letter laid. The note was unusual. The way it was written. It was almost like a puzzle in a video game. Seonghwa finally turned to the other papers in his desk and put that thought to the back of his mind. Hopefully, it would be nothing more than a joke he could dismiss. It was a dark evening when Wednesday had finally hit. The trees towered over Jongho and Yunho, and cast an overwhelming shadow over the duo. The only light that shown was the full moon glaring down at them. Jongho waved a fly off. “Are we going to be okay?” He asked as the pair treaded through the forest. Yunho snorted and patted Jongho on the shoulder. “I’m not quite sure why you’re so worried. If there was someone dangerous... why, I’m sure you’d just crack their skulls open like with apples,” Yunho joked. “Motionless apples and moving dangerous things are extremely different stories... I’m also pretty sure I can’t just Mortal Kombat crack skulls open.” “We’ll be fine.” Yunho waved the flies off. Was it just him or were there an unusual amount of flies the more deeper they went into the forest? “Anyways, what do you think the letter—“ Yunho suddenly stopped in his tracks. “What is it?” Jongho peered over Yunho’s shoulder. It was slightly hard to see at first with only the flashlight and the moon being their only sources of light. But as soon as Jongho saw it, he couldn’t unsee it at all. Jongho’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. His chest heaved and stuttered. He wanted so badly to pry his eyes away but he couldn’t. The sight burned into Jongho’s eyes and imprinted itself into his mind. An upside down, topless deformed body was eyeing them, hanging upside down from the tree with their neck ripped wide open. Slashes, cuts and stabs covered the body. Flies surrounded the body. Maggots squirmed in its nest of decomposing flesh and wounds. There was such an enormous quantity that some of the maggots even dropped from the body, wriggling as they fell to the dirt below. The malformed body also looked like it had peen picked at by the bugs and animals in the forest. The victim’s glassy eyes and mouth were wide open as if they had been screaming in pain before their demise. Bile came up Jongho’s throat and he hunched over, retching on to the dirt. Yunho ran over and pat Jongho on the back as Jongho hurled on to the ground. Yunho grimaced as he kept a close eye on the hanging body. This wasn’t his first time seeing a body. In fact, this probably wasn’t even the worst. But, it was never easy seeing a dead body. And this was a particularly nasty one for a rookie like Jongho. Yunho took a deep breath. None of them could leave the scene just in case it was tampered with further while they were gone. The two couldn’t split up at this point. Jongho was too vulnerable and in shock to do anything clearly at this point. On top of that, Yunho didn’t know how safe the two currently were. The body may had been hanging for some days. But, who knew if the killer was lying in wait for new victims? Yunho exhaled and grabbed the radio by his side. He called in. “Chief Park? Officer Yunho reporting in. We have a 55-A in R3. I repeat, we have a 55-A in R3. Begin the procedure as soon as possible for the preservation of the scene.”

#ateez #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung #ateez imagines #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #kpop imagine #seonghwa #jongho #san #yeosang #mingi #hongjoong #yunho

194 notes · View notes

kk095 · 5 years

Text

Workload

I felt creative in the past day or two and came up with this. It may need some additional tweaking, but I hope everyone likes the story! Also, I received a lot of positive feedback on my last story. I greatly appreciate that! 🙂

****

There's a common saying that goes “if you find a career you really like, you'll never have to work a day in your life.” For most people, the idea of this sounds fictitious, but it was a reality for Stephanie. Stephanie Crawford was a graduate of the prestigious Brown university, and went on to become a successful lawyer, specializing in corporate law and civil litigation. Being a lawyer was Stephanie's passion, willfully devoting large sums of time to her career, foregoing the opportunity to experience other life milestones such as marriage and children; Stephanie is someone that could be labeled a “workaholic.”

Even though Stephanie worked around the clock, her looks never suffered as a result of her high stress, high pressure job. Stephanie was a 37 year old white woman with brown hair that was slightly past her shoulders with angled bangs. She had blue eyes, a semi tan complexion, was 5'4, and had a slim build. Stephanie had a very classy, sophisticated appearance and had a refined demeanor.

This particular case started long before Stephanie was brought to our emergency department. Stephanie was at the office after normal business hours working on her latest case. The case involved something known as “frustration of purpose”, a scenario where contractual obligations become impossible for both parties to satisfy because of unforeseen circumstances. These scenarios can be quite messy and complicated, but Stephanie was always up for the task.

Stephanie was sorting through paperwork, working on her computer, eating take out dinner, and was the only person at the office. Stephanie was at work for almost 12 hours at that point, and she barely slept the night before. The 37 year old decided to call it a night and head home. Little did she know, the drive home would be anything but routine.

The roads were relatively empty at that time in the evening. It had rained earlier in the day, so the roads were still a bit wet. On the way home, Stephanie was focusing on everything except driving. She took a turn a little too fast and slipped on a wet spot, losing control of her car and crashing it into a utility pole on the side of the road, wrecking her brand new BMW.

Everything happened so fast. Her chest hit the steering wheel milliseconds before the airbag deployed, with the airbag smacking her in the face, sending her back quickly. The lap portion of her seatbelt tightened up, pressing exceptionally hard on her abdomen. The windshield cracked, sending a handful of small glass shards flying towards Stephanie, causing lacerations to her face and neck.

Stephanie wasn't in any pain immediately, but had some minor breathing difficulties. She was in a frenzied state due to a sudden rush of adrenaline and endorphins. Believe it or not, she reached for her cell phone and called 911 for herself.

EMS responded to the scene of the accident within a few minutes of her 911 call. The driver's side door had to be cut off by the fire department since it wouldn't open and Stephanie was in a confined space, unable to move.

The extraction took somewhat long. The fire department had to set up several types of mechanical equipment so they were able to remove the door from the mangled, black BMW. A feeling of nervousness consumed Stephanie while the mechanical device started crunching and pulling at her car door. The scene became very loud as a result, causing sensory overload to a minor degree. Stephanie was holding back tears, but kept her composure. “I'm ok. Everything's going to be just fine” Stephanie kept thinking to herself, unaware that she would be in the hospital morgue in just a little while.

Once the door was removed, paramedics placed a c-collar on her. Stephanie's seatbelt was cut, and she was carefully wiggled out of the confined space she was trapped in, and placed onto a backboard. Paramedics carried the backboard over to a stretcher, where they placed Stephanie. She was wheeled into the ambulance, and rushed to the nearest hospital.

During the ambulance ride, paramedics set up 2 large bore IVs and hung normal saline. Stephanie's top was cut off by the medics, exposing her toned body and black bra. She was set up on a heart monitor; her vitals were: BP 92/68, heart rate 124bpm with a thready pulse, and her oxygen saturation was at 95%. Stephanie complained of shortness of breath, so the paramedics placed a nasal cannula to help with breathing difficulties. Further along into transport, she began to complain of soreness in her chest, and she started to feel some stinging from lacerations on her face and neck. Stephanie was given a dose of lidocaine to take the edge off of the pain she was experiencing.

Approximately 7 minutes later, Stephanie arrived at the hospital. She was experiencing increased pain levels upon arrival at the emergency department, wincing and groaning, trying her very best to fight through the intensifying pain.

Stephanie was now in the trauma bay. She laid on the table, staring up at the blinding overhead light. She felt a nurse at the other end of the bed removing her shoes and the rest of her clothes while more people entered the room. Stephanie became more apprehensive, wondering what was coming next. She started feeling vulnerable for the first time in awhile due to her lack of control over her current situation; all she could do was wait.

The trauma team was finally fully assembled and began ordering tests and beginning their initial examination of the injured lawyer. The attending physician ordered trauma labs, a chest x ray, an echocardiogram, an abdominal ultrasound, and made sure that blood products were on standby.

The chest x ray showed a moderate pneumothorax on the right side with left sided tracheal deviation. There was some bruising and redness on the middle of her chest from the steering wheel injury. A nurse snipped off Stephanie's black bra, putting her b cup breasts on display. The echocardiogram revealed a myocardial contusion with fluid in the pericardium. The abdominal ultrasound showed minor, non specific bleeding that was likely to heal on its own, but worthy of monitoring. The main concerns were the collapsed lung and activity within the pericardium.

Stephanie's symptoms continued getting worse. She began complaining of heart palpitations and feeling cold in the seconds following the tests. Her blood pressure was still low, her heart rate was up in the 130s, and her o2 levels were dropping. Stephanie was visibly uncomfortable, writhing in pain. A nurse told the attractive lawyer to stay still and remain calm.

The trauma team was greatly concerned over Stephanie's deterioration. They had to urgently place a chest tube, and didn't have time to sedate their patient. A round of pain medications were pushed intravenously, and the procedure commenced. A 1inch incision was made in between her ribs on the right side. Stephanie moaned, feeling the scalpel's every move. Stephanie shouted and cried out in pain while the chest tube was being shoved into the small incision site.

All of the air that was trapped inside of Stephanie's chest cavity was blasted through the tube, and out of her body. Although her breathing improved a bit, Stephanie was still in pain and her vital signs weren't improving. Stephanie was breathing rapidly and appeared distressed. The attending physician was concerned about her worsening condition and wanted to make sure her airway wasn't lost, so it was decided that Stephanie would be intubated. Rapid sequence orotracheal intubation was performed. Stephanie was now unconscious from the intubation sedatives, with the metal blade of the laryngoscope leaning on the roof of her mouth, while a 7.0 ET tube was being navigated into her airway. Once the breathing tube was in place, a blue tube holder was connected to secure the tube.

Following the intubation, the trauma team decided to perform a pericardiocentesis to remove some of the excess fluid in their patient's pericardium. A fine needle was placed through the skin at the infrasternal angle in a subxiphoid approach, meaning the needle was navigated under the sternum and left ribcage, into the lining of the heart. After an echocardiogram confirmed correct placement, a small catheter was attached to the needle, which was connected to a collection bag. At first, a small amount of blood and pericardial fluid was aspirated. Seemingly out of nowhere, a large amount of bright red, arterial blood rushed into the catheter's collection bag. “what the hell?” thought the attending physician. “page cardio. She didn't cut the aorta because she would've died already, but whatever's going on in there is pretty serious.” Ordered the attending physician with a sense of urgency.

Stephanie's condition was much worse by the time the cardiothoracic surgeon arrived. Her blood pressure was dangerously low, and distant heart sounds were heard through the stethoscope. The cardiothoracic surgeon ordered a repeat echo and hung 2 units of blood products from the rapid infuser.

Before the repeat echocardiogram could be performed, Stephanie became pulseless. The pericardiocentesis catheter was carefully removed, with chest compressions commencing immediately afterwards. The lawyer's chest was pumped robustly while the defibrillator paddles were being gelled and charged. The paddles were charged to 250j and pressed up against Stephanie's bare chest. Once everyone backed away, shock #1 was delivered. Stephanie's torso rose upwards, arching her back for a brief moment before returning to her previous position. The heart monitors showed V-Fib, so a round of drugs and cycle of compressions were performed during the handful of seconds it took for the defibrillator to recharge.

The paddles were charged to 300j and placed back onto Stephanie's chest, releasing a stronger current of electricity. Stephanie's body jolted violently on the table. Her arms tensed up and her head lolled to the side, with the monitors still chirping in the background.

Shock #2 did nothing to better the situation, so a 3rd shock at 360j was delivered moments later. The 37 year old's body flopped on the table. Her feet jumped into the air an inch or so above the table and crashed back down, showing off the prominent wrinkles in her soft soles.

Defibrillator shock #3 also didn't improve the situation. The next round of intravenous drugs were pushed and CPR was resumed while the trauma team thought about their next move. One of the nurses delivered strong, rapid compressions onto the attorney's chest. Her belly bounced outward and her breasts shook from the vibrations created from the compressions.

Another 2 and a half minutes of chest compressions and another defibrillator shock weren't enough to bring back Stephanie. The situation was growing more and more desperate by the second, and the trauma team needed to make a move. Stephanie had an injury inside her chest cavity, and likely to her heart, so the trauma team elected to access her chest cavity by performing a clamshell thoracotomy. Betadine was quickly splashed all over Stephanie's chest with harsh chest compressions still ongoing. A large incision was made extending across the entire 5th intercostal space, underneath both breasts, and through the sternum. CPR continued while the underlying tissue in Stephanie's chest was incised further. The next step was to separate the sternum to make room for the rib spreaders. A Gigli saw was used to divide the sternum horizontally. The manual wire saw was placed around each side of her sternum, and the cutting began. The saw worked its way through the sternum, with the cardiothoracic surgeon pushing with all their strength. The saw made short work of the solid bone in the sternum. The rib spreaders were placed on each side of her chest, and her chest was cracked open shortly after.

Stephanie's frantically twitching heart was revealed upon opening of the chest. A vascular clamp was placed on the aorta near her diaphragm and internal massage began. A 2nd round of drugs were pushed while the cardiothoracic surgeon made an incision into the pericardium. Blood squirted out of the incision area, with copious amounts of blood following. The surgeon couldn't locate the source of the bleeding. The surgeon wanted to perform a pericardial window right there in the ER due to the dire circumstances. With the monitors showing V-Fib, it was decided that an internal shock should be delivered beforehand.

The Zoll 8011 internal paddles were charged to 20j and placed around each side of the fluttering organ. A jolt of electricity was released directly into Stephanie's heart, causing her torso to flop on the table. The internal shock regained a faint heartbeat.

The cardiothoracic surgeon began performing a pericardial window. This is a procedure where a section of the pericardium is removed to allow excess blood and fluid to be drained, giving the heart an adequate amount of space to pump effectively.

The pericardial window was met with blood squirting out of the pericardium. Stephanie's pulse was lost again as more and more blood seeped out of the opening. More blood products were hung and direct cardiac massage was restarted. The cardiothoracic surgeon extended their incision in the pericardium in an attempt to locate the source of hemorrhaging.

Hemopericardium was discovered by the surgeon's continued efforts, but that still didn't explain where the bleeding originated. V-Fib appeared on the monitor again, so the surgeon's investigation was paused so an internal shock could be delivered. The internal paddles were placed back around her twitching heart, and a 30j shock was delivered once everyone backed away. A dull, wet thunk was heard, accompanied by her torso jolting quickly and sharply. This shock couldn't convert the beautiful patient out of V-Fib, so another shock was delivered immediately afterwards. Stephanie converted to PEA after this shock, so internal compressions were resumed while the next round of IV drugs were given.

Stephanie's heart was being squeezed by the attending ER physician, trying to force it back to life. The surgeon continued probing around inside Stephanie's chest cavity. The ventricles and atria were intact, the SVC and aorta were also intact. That only meant 1 thing: a coronary artery laceration. Coronary artery lacerations are exceedingly rare, but that doesn't mean they don't happen.

The cardiothoracic surgeon located the left coronary artery. Surprisingly, it was still intact. Stephanie was back in V-Fib so another unsuccessful internal shock was delivered. After the shock, the surgeon continued looking around. Finally, the surgeon located the bleeder. The right coronary artery was severed completely in half and ripped off of the myocardium. The heart muscle in that section of the myocardium was already dead upon discovery. Due to the catastrophic nature of this injury, the trauma team abruptly ceased resuscitation efforts, calling time of death at 11:04pm while Stephanie was still in V-Fib.

The monitors were shut off and the ambu bag was detached from the ET tube. The room was eerily silent as some people were exiting the room, while others were beginning postmortem care. Stephanie's heart fired off its last few dysfunctional, erratic bits of electrical activity while the nurses worked. Finally, a cover was placed over Stephanie's lifeless body, leaving her feet exposed. A nurse filled out a toe tag that read:

Name: Crawford, Stephanie

Date of birth: 1/12/1982

Date of death: 4/27/2019

TOD: 23:04

COD: Blunt coronary artery rupture

The toe tag was placed on the big toe of Stephanie's left foot after it was filled out. The tag dangled in front of the silky wrinkles of her soles while she was wheeled off to the hospital morgue, only an hour after her accident.

40 notes · View notes

sup-hoes-its-me · 5 years

Text

Wings (Castiel x Reader)

A/N: hiii! Its kelly again with another one shot (soulmate au). This one is about my absolutely favorite character, Castiel. He is just so sweet and perfect but so shy and gosh, hes so fun to write about. In this soulmate au, the winchesters know cas is keeping a secret from them, and they also find it a bit weird that their good friend y/n is the only human that can see his wings…

word count: 6, 000~

I remember the first time I met the man I’ve grown to love. Castiel, angel of the Lord, best friend to the Winchester brothers, and unfortunately, the object of my affection. He was just so breathtaking in every sense of the word. Not only did my world revolve around him, but I became a total fool when he was around. Even upon our first meeting, I was a mess.

It was late at night, and I was pulling into the parking spot of some cheap, run-down motel the Winchesters were stopped at. This particular case was quite interesting: meaning difficult and tricky, so much that even Sam was unable to find any new leads. It just so happened that I was in town, and after not seeing the boys in a couple years, they called to see if I would give them a hand.

Fourteen murders and seventeen injured, all separate, but of the same circumstances. Turns out the killer was a merman, as insane as that sounds. But I suppose that’s what happens in a boating and fishing district like that one.

I hoped out of my little car and slung my bag over my shoulder. I would be renting a room first so I made my arrangements and dropped off my things, making sure to tuck my gun and a silver blade in my pants, just in case. Room 26, they said they were bunked in. Four down from my own.

When I knocked on the door, it was opened almost immediately. And then, I was swiftly pulled inside and into a warm hug, an abrupt but comforting embrace. I took in the deep scent of motor oil and gunpowder, a sigh leaving my lips. Arms wound around his neck carefully, and I leaned my head against his shoulder.

“Dean.”

“It’s been too long, Y/N,” he said softly, pulling away to get a good look at me. His green eyes scanned my body and I flushed, looking to the side. Even after this long, I still got self conscious like a high school girl when someone observed me. “You’ve grown, too,” he commented.

With a scoff, I rolled my eyes and hugged my waist. “If by grown, you mean gained a couple pounds, then yeah.”

He pinched my hip, making me jump. I wasn’t mad, but a little irritated when he winked at me. “Only in the right places, sweetheart,” he chuckled my way, his bright white grin sending my stomach into a frenzy. I had no feelings for him, but receiving compliments from a handsome man was still quite shocking to me.

I waved over his shoulder at Sam, who was working in front of his laptop. Only, my eyes widened when I noticed another person, someone unfamiliar standing to the side, watching me with slightly narrowed, yet curious eyes. My breath was stolen away from me at the mere sight of this man. He was the epitome of gorgeous, inhumanly so.

My hands fell to my sides, and my jaw was slack. This man, whatever he was, had wings. They spanned nearly the width of the room if not for them being tucked in a bit. They were the deepest of black in color, so rich that they sucked me in and threatened to never let go. Beautiful. Completely jaw-dropping.

Dean noticed my gaze trained on his companion and quirked a brow. “You okay, Y/N? That’s just our friend, Castiel.”

“Oh. I-I’m sorry. It’s just, well, he’s…” I trailed off, not wanting to sound like a stalker or a creep for finding their winged friend absolutely entrancing. I bit my lip and shook my head, brushing the thoughts from my mind. “Nice to meet you, Castiel. I’m Y/N L/N, an old friend of the Winchesters’,” I told him, correcting my awkward behavior from before.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. They have told me much about you.”

I spun around, eyes wide with surprise and a bit of flattery, flickering between Sam and his brother. “You talk about me to your friends?” I asked, genuinely happy that they did.

Sam shrugged, but Dean was almost proud of the fact. He slung his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to his side tightly. The familiar softness of flannel and leather rubbed against my arm, and I was sent back to the past for a moment to times I hugged them as a child, or borrowed their clothes on long hunts when mine got ruined.

“You’re practically a little sister to us. Why wouldn’t we mention you to our angel?”

I frowned and glanced up at him incredulously. What did he mean by that? “Angel…?” I repeated, waiting impatiently for him to explain his phrasing. He rolled his eyes and motioned to Castiel, who looked quite uncomfortable, given the circumstances. Was Dean really saying that this man was...an angel? I wasn’t even aware those existed.

“Yeah. Cas might not look like it, but he’s a real life angel. Turns out there are thousands of them.”

Oh.

I nodded, shuffling uncomfortably out of his arms. For some reason, my eyes wouldn’t stop drifting over to that dark haired man in the corner. I wanted to approach him. To run my fingers down the stubble on his cheeks and his jaw. I wanted to brush his feathers along my fingertips and feel their softness against my skin. I wanted to speak to him alone, to be without the company of Sam and Dean.

I wanted this strange man- or angel...whatever he was. I wanted him so much in that moment that it could have left my quivering. He was just so alluring, tugging me into his trap with each breath.

What was I thinking? Did I need to be slapped to knock myself away from these insane thoughts? I’d never felt this way about anyone in my life so why was it beginning with this total stranger who wasn’t even human?

I pinched myself hard on the arm and winced. Maybe that would bring me down to reality, I prayed.

It did. Sort of. While I did skip the rest of the small talk and introductions to walk over to where Sam sat, I couldn’t keep myself focused on the task at hand. My knee bounced in place where I sat on the hard wooden dining chair, which no one noticed. Sam didn’t notice the unusual tremors that made their way through my hands occasionally. He was oblivious to my internal struggle. He couldn’t see how on edge I was, thank God.

And after a couple hours of sitting in the room with these men, my heart racing constantly throughout, I was ready to head to my room and get some well deserved shut eye. The clock struck one in the morning by the time I stood, and the chime of the weird little grandfather clock by the door rung out loudly in my ear like an echo.

“At least now we know where we have to look tomorrow, right?” I asked, stretching my arms high above my head as a loud yawn escaped my lips. Contagiously, the yawn made its way to Dean and it caused me to crack a smile. Tiredly, I ran my fingers through my messy hair, throwing the part to the side and out of my eyes. “Imma head back to my room for the night then.”

“Yeah, thanks for the help, Y/N. Wouldn’t have figured half of this out without you,” Sam piped up, motioning to all the writing and articles we had spread out on the small dining table. I laughed, agreeing with him.

Dean, who laid in his bed only waved to me and called groggily, “See ya, Y/N.”

As I was making my way to the door to leave, I froze. Castiel, who was standing toward the center of the room, had failed to bring in his wings, and unfortunately, they were so magnificently large that they blocked my way. I cleared my throat and peered over at him shyly. He still made my stomach turn loops and my heart to palpitate like I was on a rollercoaster.

Of course I wasn’t going to be rude and move them out of the way myself. That would probably embarrass me and invade his personal space.

He looked over at me curiously, as he had whenever we spoke. Those looks, the ones where his eyes would widen and his lips would part just a bit, his full attention directed at me; those moments made me feel like I would collapse under the pressure. He was just...perfect. To me, at least.

“Yes?”

“Do you mind, you know, moving so I can get by?” I muttered awkwardly, my gaze quickly dropping from his the further my blush no doubt darkened.

He quirked a brow, so did Sam. “There’s like four feet of space between you two-”

“No, I mean- It’s fine, I’ll just,” I said softly before ducking under his wings and straightening on the other side, making sure to carefully maneuver so I hadn’t so much as skimmed his wings with my touch. “Sorry, your wings are just so big and intimidating, I kinda don’t know how to address them without sounding stupid,” I confessed, tugging at the edge of my sleeve.

“Wings? Y/N, what are you talking about?” Dean asked, rolling over to glare at me, my voice obviously keeping him from getting any sleep. I opened my mouth to say something, but I only shut it a moment after, not knowing what to say. What the hell were they talking about? The huge wings right in the middle of the room, sticking out of this dude’s back? For fuck’s sake, they were pretty hard to miss.

The angel, the subject of our conversation, turned to me and stared deeply. I felt so scrutinized under his gaze, and feared for the worse. As I suspected, I must have said something wrong. Something to offend him. “You can see them?”

“Well, of course. They’re pretty distinct, Castiel,” I said simply. I raised my hand to the wing and carefully, very carefully, touched the very edge of one of his feathers. He let out a shaky breath as my fingers skimmed the surface and his eyes shut tightly. “They are so soft and...beautiful. I-I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“No, no. You did nothing wrong, Miss Y/N,” he assured me, but I still felt like there was tension, something bad that he wasn’t telling me. “If you would excuse me, I have business to attend to elsewhere.” And with those being his last words to me, he left with a flutter of his wings and a gust of air.

I felt a rush of emotions tug at my heart, but I mainly was left confused. I turned to look at my friends, who were just as in the dark as I was. My voice broke the silence left by his absence. “So, you can’t see or touch his wings?”

“No. Never met anyone who could.”

“What does that mean for me?”

Sam shook his head and smiled wearily, “I don’t know.”

_________________________________________

After meeting Castiel, it seemed that I was in danger much more than I was before. I would often have run ins with other angels, ones that wanted to hurt me. Sadly, I could do nothing to fight back against them without an angel blade. I was faced with so many terrifying situations that Sam and Dean eventually suggested that I come to live with them in their bunker, which was warded against everything evil , even God’s first creations. They said it was safe for me there, and I couldn’t return home if I was being hunted.

When I asked Castiel why his brothers and sisters were on my back all the time, he merely replied with, “It’s too complicated to explain right now” and that was sufficient enough for him. I never fought him on his answer, knowing that he would tell me when the time was right.

I was, fortunately, given an angel blade and taught the many sigils that would protect me in case Castiel could not make it to me in time. When I went on hunts and I found myself in trouble, at any time, I would pray to Castiel and he promised he would arrive as soon as he could. Typically, it would only take a matter of seconds for him to show at my side.

You could say that Castiel and I grew to hold a special bond. We had a strong friendship, which, although harbored secrets, wasn’t breaking any time soon.

Often, he would visit us and sit in my room with me at night, or when I was alone and the boys went on a dangerous hunt he would join me for dinner, even though he never ate. It was the thought that counted. The thought that he didn’t want me to be alone. He was and would never stop being my best friend. My favorite angel and my best friend.

I still felt that strange tug to him, and I never stopped seeing his wings whether they be extended or tucked away. His voice was deep and rough and so intoxicating that I found myself lost in it when he rambled. And his eyes were like pools of wonder, pools of pure magic that I was perpetually drowning in. But for Castiel, I was more than happy to drown.

Again, I wasn’t the least bit aware of why I felt this way for the angel, but I wasn’t fighting it anymore. As long as he stayed by my side as a friend, I couldn’t complain. Sure, I began to have feelings for him that I probably should not. Ones that I did not have for Sam or Dean or Jack. These feelings were strong and intense and they made my heart feel heavy in my chest.

I was falling in love with an angel. And I hated myself for it.

He was a celestial being, not some play thing for me. He was too high and mighty for me to lust after. To him, I was like a weak child, nothing close to a lover. I was someone he had to protect. A burden, if you wanted to put it that way. He would never love me. He wouldn’t want me the way I wanted him. It was sickening and I wanted to cry when I thought about the reality of it all.

No man has ever been able to make me cry. Not even the most vicious of break ups or the harshest of rejections has left me feeling so empty and broken. Castiel, the inevitable rejection that I would face from him...it left me feeling useless and damaged, like a broken record. These feelings kept playing on and on but it was the same note again and again, and the entire thing was driving me insane.

I sat on the table in the library as Sam researched something about witches and a spell that I didn’t care about it. It was for a mission, only I would not be going on it. I was still injured and recovering from the last one I went on. Castiel offered to heal me, in fact, he begged for me to let him just place his fingers on my head and let his grace do the work. I refused. The pain was a reminder that I needed to be careful.

What if we didn’t have Cas? Then what? We would suffer far worse than we do now. I didn’t want to take advantage of him and his abilities.

Castiel stood by my side, as he did. He rarely left me alone when there wasn’t a crucial task for him to do. It was almost like he was attached at my hip sometimes, and Dean was sure to point it out, more than I liked.

I turned to the angel at my side and smiled softly, my eyes flicking up to his shyly. Even though he was always around and we were comfortable, I still felt shy and nervous around him. It’s hard not to when you’re constantly reminded of how genuinely perfect he is.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

I bit my lip and trailed my eyes to the bunker entrance. “Wanna come with me on a drive?”

“A drive? To where?” he asked, but he was more than ready to come with me. He shoved his hands in his pockets and eyed me curiously. Normally, I didn’t just leave the bunker. I wasn’t really a fan of driving at night either.

I sighed, a gentle hum leaving my lips. “I’m not sure yet. I just know that I want to feel the gas under my feet and the wind in my hair,” I confessed, referring to my beautiful convertible that I stole a couple years ago. Castiel simply nodded and extended his hand for me to take, so he could help me off the table and escort me to the garage. Delicately, I placed my cold hand in his warm one and followed after him, waving to Sam on the way out.

I snatched my keys from the bowl by the door and tugged on my jacket hanging on a hook. It wasn’t freezing outside, but enough that you would get goosebumps if you weren’t careful. He also grabbed a scarf and tossed it around my neck. “You get cold so easily, Y/N.”

“I know, but I don’t want to be stuffy.” Still, I wore the scarf; after all, he was so kind to think of me.

The drive was quiet as I pulled out of the bunker and onto the empty road. The night lights illuminated the abandoned road, and it was blissful. The feeling of being in this car with the rush of wind in my ears, the steering wheel held tightly in my hands, and the love of my life in the seat beside me. I felt the edge of his feathers skin against my shoulder and a soft smile stretched on my cheeks.

“Castiel,” I spoke. He looked over at me, and I took a quick peek away from the road to see the wonder in his eyes. I turned back to the road and let out a breath. “Why is it that only I can see your wings?” I’d asked before, time and time again, and each time, I thought I would receive an answer. Just like tonight.

“You know it’s complicated, Y/N.” The same thing, every time. The vague answer that left me wondering.

“I know. But it just doesn’t make sense. Out of all the humans you’ve met, why only me? Is there something wrong with me?” I questioned. I paused when I came to a stop light and leaned over in my seat a bit, getting a good look at him finally. He was tense, and he wasn’t looking at me now, almost as if he were afraid to face me. So, I continued, “It’s weird that I can’t see any other angel’s wings either, and there are barely any books written on angels since you are so complicated. I worry about it sometimes, what’s happening with me and you.”

The light turned green, and I quickly turned back to the wheel and drove straight across the intersection. He cleared his throat. “It’s because you’re a very special human being, Y/N,” he finally said something I had yet to hear before. “You were born different from other humans, not because of your parentage, but because of a gift my father gave to you.”

“So, you’re saying that this ability I have, to see your wings...it’s because of something God did to me?”

“Yes. He had special plans for you, Y/N. Only a few humans in all of history have ever been able to see an angel’s wings.”

“Well, I know that! I want to know what these plans are. What does this all mean?” I asked, prying once again. He was spilling more knowledge than usual, and wished he would just give me the bulk of it. What could God possibly want with me, a plain hunter from a broke little town in Kansas?

He shook his head and kept his lips sealed once again. I felt defeated, but at least I discovered a bit more about him. “Thank you, Cas. You’re the best friend I could ask for, despite being a secretive little jerk,” I laughed, taking one hand off the wheel to reach over and poke his shoulder playfully.

He exhaled and nodded, but there was something false about his smile that I couldn’t place. Something in his eyes that seemed so pained and miserable. It worried me. God, was I worried.

______________________________________

Gabriel the Archangel. I was tasked with taking care of him while the others were gone on an important mission too dangerous for my liking. I brought him sweets that he would normally enjoy, ones that Sam had sworn from the house. A bag of dum dums and a bowl of ice cream. He was feeling better these days, and I hoped he was feeling up to eating something.

Sure, angels didn’t need to eat, in fact, most of them hated to. Yet, Gabriel wasn’t himself without a lollipop in his mouth and a little sugar on his tongue.

I sat down at his bedside, just on the edge of his bed and placed the snacks on the table. “Hey, Gabe. Hope you’re feeling better this morning because I’ve brought some goodies,” I said, smiling at him. “Don’t tell Sam, though. He’ll have my neck.” I held out the bowl to him, and he took it.

The thought of being a mere human and tending to an all-powerful archangel was terrifying. But he wasn’t completely full of his grace yet so he was a bit weaker. Just the thought though, of being in his presence was enough to make my mind swell with prideful thoughts, and a few fearful ones.

He took the bowl of mint chocolate from my hands and began munching on the ice cream, much to my relief. He really was back to his old self, minus some of the firepower of course. I popped one of the dum dums in my mouth myself and scooched further on the bed beside my friend so I sat against the headboard next to him, my legs kicked out and my mismatched socks shown proudly.

“Trouble getting dressed this morning, sugar?” he referred to them with a small grin.

“Nope. I just really hate pairing socks after I fold the laundry,” I informed him, to which he agreed. He didn’t have to do laundry, but he would probably hate it too. It’s pretty boring, and we all know Gabriel likes to live life to the fullest.

He eyed me for a moment before looking back down at his ice cream. “So, how come you’re not out with your friends hunting whatever it is they’re busy with?”

“Too dangerous for me. Cas doesn’t like letting me go if there’s a chance I could die.”

“Really? Well, you’re not in the right line of work then, honeybuns,” he chuckled. He wasn’t completely aware of my strange connection with Castiel yet, although he knew we were very close friends. I’m sure he was only joking when he spoke next. “Castiel really cares for you, almost like he loves you. Wouldn’t doubt it, with the way he stares at your ass every time you turn around.”

I choked on my breath, and glared at the angel beside me. He laughed at my stunned expression. “What? I’m only joking. He’s much more focused on your face. He’s always staring at you. Surprised you don’t find it creepy,” he commented. My cheeks flared and I wanted to smack him for making me so embarrassed. It wasn’t Gabriel’s fault for pointing it out, though. He was only messing with me, riling me up like he does so much.

“Are you sure he looks at me differently than everyone else? I mean, he does have a tendency to stare,” I mumbled, fiddling with the stick of my candy.

He was quick to reply with amusement still clear in his soft chuckles, “Yep. Never seen him so entranced. You got him wrapped around your little finger, sugar.”

“Sometimes, I like to think that, but I know it’s not true. He doesn’t care for me that way,” I sighed. The room turned silent under my self-pity, all the self-doubt piling around me. Gabriel remained quiet, obviously waiting for me to elaborate. I felt so pathetic as I told him, “Castiel only cares for me the way he does because he feels obligated to. He told me that I was special, and his father created me for a purpose. I think he just stays around because his dad wants him to protect me. It’s sad, that our friendship might not even be real, but it’s gotta be true.”

“Special?” he echoed. “How so?”

I rolled my eyes at the thought of my ability, which proved to be only trouble for me. “It’s really not much. It’s just that I can see and feel Cas’ wings. No one else can, and I always ask him why and he never gives me a straight answer. It’s actually really frustrating,” I confided.

Once I finished, and Gabriel had a moment to think, to process what I had told him, i could only watch in shock as one of the brightest smiles I’ve seen from him spread across his cheeks. His golden eyes gleamed with a bit of mischief and joy, and it made me feel confused but relieved. At least now I knew I wasn’t in any trouble.

“Well, well, well, isn’t Castiel the lucky one,” he muttered to himself, tossing his head back against the headboard.

“Lucky? How? You know why I can see them?” I was so excited. I felt jolts of energy run through my veins and flood my chest. I found myself leaning forward, now on my knees and close to him, so curious I could feel the questions about to burst from my ears. My eyes found his twinkling ones, and I almost hugged him when he nodded in reply.

“Now, I’m sure my little bro wouldn’t like me telling you this, but seeing as he’s too cowardly to tell you himself, I guess I’ll take it upon myself,” he hummed. “Castiel is your soulmate. You were meant to be together from the very point of all creation, and he has waited hundreds of millenia just to meet you.”

“What?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. This was news to me. Soulmates? That sounded positively absurd and made up and just something I couldn’t believe. Castiel and I were meant to be together, made just for each other? It sounded like some sappy story my mind would conjure up at night to comfort my unrequited love.

Gabriel sighed and shook his head. “My father created thousands of angels, but it would be cruel to not give them something to look forward to cherishing. So he gave a bit of each angel’s grace to one of his other creations. It’s rare for an angel to ever meet their soulmate, but there are cases in which it happens. Just so happens Castiel met his match.”

Blink. Holy shit. I felt like my heart was soaring, and my mind raced with thoughts a mile and minute. Never in my most wild dreams had I imagined being this important to Castiel. Never did I think we had this intense a connection. I just thought God made a mistake and I could somehow see his wings. I gaped at the archangel and stumbled for words. “Wow. So...I have Cas’s grace in me?”

“Right-o, honeybuns. It’s weaved into your soul.”

“Why wouldn’t Cas tell me? It’s been five years.”

“Could be scared. After you met, I’m guessing you faced a lot of trouble? Angel trouble specifically?” I nodded. “It’s dangerous to be the soulmate of an angel. A lot of people hate Castiel’s guts, if you couldn’t tell. Killing you, or using you to get to Cas would be pretty beneficial to his enemies,” he explained, and suddenly it all made sense.

It made sense why I was so attracted to Castiel from the moment we met, why I loved him so much that it hurt, why he stuck by my side and kept me from harm’s way, why he held me when I cried or when I was scared, why he would do anything in the world just for me.

Castiel belonged with me. He was mine alone. And ever since the beginning, I was all his.

_______________________________________

I found myself, without heed, praying to Castiel that night. I lied in my bed deep into the night with the covers pulled over my head, just repeating the things that Gabriel had told me. Castiel was my soulmate. We shared the same grace. We were one of the same, and we belonged together.

Yet, we were both afraid. Living this life, the way of a hunter, it wasn’t easy. We were pawns of God, and he was playing us into danger with every twist and turn of the path. The problem was, despite with everything spinning around us, I still wanted Cas more than anything. All the warning signs were out the window.

I loved him.

I sat up in bed and pulled at my hair. Being without him, it was hurting me. It made my chest feel tight and my mind to sink into a hole it couldn’t rise from. “Castiel. I need you now more than ever,” I whispered under my breath. I didn’t expect him to hear me, or reply. He was probably too busy with hunting or angel stuff to care.

But then again, I was a part of him that he needed. That he had been waiting millions of years for.

A few seconds later, the flutter of wings and a gust of hair signalled that he had arrived in my bedroom. I peered up at him, standing tall and strong at the foot of my bed. His wings were extended to their grandest span, and he held a dangerous look in his eye. When he scanned over me, and his eyes flicked around the room, realizing I wasn’t in danger, he lowered his guard and tucked in his wings.

“Y/N. What is it you needed?” he questioned, his blue eyes piercing into my own drowsy ones.

“You.”

I never wanted to kiss anyone more than I did in that moment. I wanted to grab him by the collar of his coat and yank him onto me, chest to chest and lips to lips. I wanted to tangle my legs with his and feel the warmth radiate from his form. I wanted to whisper sweet nothings and dirty somethings into his ear, and trail sloppy kisses down his jaw and his neck. I wanted everything so fucking much.

“I-I don’t understand.” He stumbled for words. Of course he didn’t know. But I just prayed he felt the same way.

“The reason I can see your wings, Cas, Gabriel told me everything,” I told him. His eyes widened and his jaw fell slack at my words. A lump was swallowed in his throat as the tension grew in the room. I could cut the air with a knife, it was so thick and heavy, nearly suffocating. I could only imagine what it was doing to the man at my feet. “Why would you keep this a secret from me?”

He closed his eyes and took a minute to get himself together, to gather the words he needed to explain himself to me. I knew it must be hard for him, my poor, sweet angel, and I didn’t mean to pressure him. This was just so important to me. Important for us. I needed to know.

“If you knew, and you lost me, it would hurt you. You don’t need to be burdened by me, Y/N. You are the perfect human being. You are beautiful and kind and smart, and I’m convinced that you could do much better than me,” he confessed, sorrow dripping from his voice. He was pained and angry with himself, but he mainly seemed defeated.

I bit my lip and felt tears spring at the corners of my eyes. They stung, the salty water dripping down my cheeks. No one had ever said something that thoughtful to me. No one ever considered my feelings like this angel, nor had they treated me so well. I furiously wiped off my tears and gazed at him with an unsteady frown.

“Cas, you are the most genuine, kind, gentle person I have ever met in my life, and you have treated me like a princess for years now without a single complaint. I’ve never felt this way for anyone other than you, and honestly, I don’t think I could ever want anyone else.” I let out the breath that I had been holding, feeling my tears start to flow once again, this time in hot, heavy drops.

He leaned forward and wiped them away with both his thumbs, his rough, calloused hands skimming across my cheekbones and beneath my eyes, working their way to sit on either side of my neck, cradling my head in his hands.

“You’re my soulmate, and I have never loved anything more than I have come to love you, Y/N.”

“Goddammit, I love you so much, Cas,” my voice cracked under the pressure. I pressed my hand to my lips and sobbed into it, unable to stop myself anymore. He was so perfect. So special to me. And I could finally have him all to myself. He loved me. He truly and unconditionally loved me.

He lifted my hand from my lips and ran his thumb along my bottom lip. I felt myself leaning closer to him and soon enough, his lips were pressed to mine. His lips were chapped but they were so flawless against mine. It was almost as if our lips fit together like pieces of a puzzle. I reached up to wrap my hands around his neck, running my thumbs up and down on the nape of his neck with feather-like softness.

His lips moved so agonizingly slow against mine, but I’d never experienced this much passion in my life. I tugged him further onto me, our chests pressed together and his wings slowly encircling the both of us in a protective cave. I smiled against his lips and pulled away just enough so that I could speak.

“I love you.”

He let out a shaky laugh. “And I love you, my princess.”

Once again, I pressed my lips to his, and together, we lost ourselves in a world we’d been hiding from since the moment we met. Pure and utter bliss.

136 notes · View notes