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deanstead · 3 years

Text

I’ll Take Care Of You

Pairing: Will Halstead x Reader

Requested by anon: reader comes back home with her boyfriend Will after one year being away. she tries to hide the fact that she feels sick to Will so he doesn't worry, but he soon realizes about it. he takes her to the hospital against her will, and there he treats her of the anemia he discovers she's suffering. also, reader is afraid of doctors, and Will is really worried about reader's health.

Warnings: anxiety, mentions of illness, fluff

A/N: Received a specific request to write for Will so I thought I would try this out! Please let me know what you think, if I should write more for Will too? Am in no way a doctor or nurse so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes in medical terminology or situations! Even so, hope you like this one! Taglists are open!

*gif not mine*

---

“Y/N?”

You looked up from where you were sitting on the floor in front of his apartment, although you could already imagine the look on Will’s face. You smiled, getting to your feet as he ran towards you, pulling you into his arms and nuzzling his face into your neck.

It had been a year. One whole year since you had been forced to leave Chicago for work. Professionally, it had been good for you. It was good career progression and all that crap your boss had forced down your throat but it had been difficult for you as well. Leaving your friends, your family, your boyfriend behind.

“When did you get back?” Will asked, gently pulling himself away to look at you.

You smiled. “I came straight from the airport.” You paused, “I hope that’s alright.”

“It’s better than alright.” Will answered, pulling you into another hug. “Come on.”

Will fumbled with the keys for a while before he pushed the door open.

The moment the door was closed, Will pushed his lips down onto yours, as you felt the rush of warmth from just being near Will – a feeling you hadn’t had in a year, and the feeling that you had missed the most.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Will whispered.

You looped your arms around his waist, pushing yourself closer to his chest. “So am I.”

---

Being back in Chicago was great for you. What was not so great was the light-headedness that had followed you back as well.

You had always tired easily but you had figured the stress in New York had made it worse. Stress coupled with being alone in a new city had definitely made it worse. But you hadn’t expected to still be feeling this after being back.

Will glanced at you over the table in his apartment and you could see the small furrow in his brow that indicated he was worried. “Y/N? You okay?”

You realised you had been frowning while waiting for the headache to pass.

You nodded, smiling back at him. “Yeah, just tired.”

Will smiled, although he still looked a little worried. “Nothing caffeine won’t fix. Come on, you’re going to be late.” You said as you walked around the table, heading to him as he leaned forward to give you a kiss.

He turned to walk out the door and you felt a dizzy spell hit you. You grabbed the edge of the table but not quietly enough. Will spun back around as he heard a dull thud from the impact of your palm hitting the table, and he saw you sway a little on your feet.

Quickly, he made it back to you, throwing his bag onto the floor.

“Y/N!” Will was by your side, a steady hand on your shoulder as you sank to the ground.

“I’m fine.” You managed to get out, feeling a slight shortness of breath.

Will looked at you a little while more, studying you. “Okay, that’s it, you’re coming to Med with me.”

“Wait, what?” You asked. “Will, I’m fine, it’s just a dizzy spell.”

Will shook his head. “Humor me.”

“Will…” You tried to protest but he looked at you.

“You gonna walk with me, or do I have to carry you there?” Will asked, and you knew you were fighting a losing battle.

“Fine.” You relented, finally letting Will lead you towards his car.

---

“Will, you know how much I hate doctors.” You whined, as he put you into a treatment room.

Will looked at you. “Ouch.”

You smiled. “You know what I mean.”

“I’ll be right here, okay?” Will reassured me as a nurse came in. “Doris, can we get a CBC, CMP, the complete tests.”

You shot a glance at Will. “It’s okay, I’ll be right back.” He planted a kiss on your head before heading out.

“You’re better at this than I gave you credit for.” You told Doris, who smiled. “Let me know if you need anything.” She said before she disappeared out the room.

---

Will watched you from where he stood at the doctors’ station.

“Will?” Maggie called, following his line of vision.

“What’s Y/N doing here?” She asked, looking back at him.

Will looked back at Maggie. “I’m waiting on the test results.” Will’s expression was strained although he tried not to let it show. “I practically had to drag her in here. Why didn’t she tell me?”

Maggie looked at him. “I’m sure she just didn’t want you to worry.”

Will sighed and Maggie patted his arm reassuringly. “I’ll try to put a rush on those tests.”

“Thanks Mags.”

Just then, a faint beep sounded from the treatment room you were in. “Dr Halstead!”

Will’s head snapped up as he ran to your room.

“What happened?” He demanded, looking at you, your eyes wide, your chest heaving.

“Will…”

Doris looked up at Will. “Sats are dropping.”

“Oxygen. Now.” He instructed, as Doris nodded. He turned back to you, “Shh, it’s okay. We’re going to give you some oxygen. I need you to try to relax okay? It’s okay.”

You nodded, as Doris gently put the oxygen on you and you felt oxygen slowly fill your lungs once again.

Will watched you, a small worried frown still resting on his forehead but he smiled when he noticed you watching him.

“We’ll figure this out. I’ll be back soon, okay?” Will gently stroked your hair.

You nodded, watching him hurry out of the room.

Will sighed, taking a last look towards your treatment room before heading straight for Maggie.

---

“Hey.” You looked up as Will entered again.

“I got your results.”

Will sighed as he sat on your bed. “The tests show you have anemia. You must have been having these symptoms for a while. When did they start?”

You blinked back at him. “What? Anemia?”

Will took your hand, “Has it ever been this bad?” You immediately shook your head. You could kind of tell Will was holding something back and it made you wonder if he was mad at you.

“Your red blood cell count is lower than I would like. Let’s do an iron infusion today to improve your levels then we can make a plan to manage it, alright?”

You sighed. “More needles?”

Will gave a small smile. “I’ll stay with you while they set it up?”

You gave him a skeptical look but didn’t answer. “Please?” Will said.

“Thar’s so unfair, Will. You know I can’t say no to you when you do that.”

Will took your hand and kissed it. “Just the iron infusion then I should be able to take you home, okay?”

You nodded, wincing a little as you felt the IV pierce your skin. “That’s it.” Doris said, smiling.

“Will.” You called, before he left. “I’m sorry.”

Will frowned slightly again. “For what?”

You looked pointedly at the room around you, your eyes finally resting on the IV needle.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?” Will planted a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit?”

You nodded but you could see the hesitation in his eyes.

“I’ll be fine.” You reassured, giving him a smile before he finally nodded, giving Doris more instructions before he left.

---

Will hadn’t said a word since you had been discharged. He had just silently led you out of the ED and into his car.

He swung open the door to his apartment, leading you to the couch. You leaned against the fabric of Will’s couch as he put two iron pills in your palm and handed you a glass of water.

You echoed his silence, swallowing the iron pills, your eyes following him as he pattered back towards the kitchen.

You stretched your legs out, lying flat on the couch before turning your head in, so that your face was hidden from view, buried into the cushion.

You could hear Will pattering about, you even knew exactly where he was in the house based on the sound of his footsteps and you felt the sting of tears behind your eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be anemia. They were supposed to be symptoms that resolved once you were back in Chicago. Which they weren’t. And now, Will was probably mad at you.

“Y/N, you can sleep inside.” Will said, absentmindedly.

When you didn’t respond, he gently touched your shoulders but you didn’t move so he gently tugged, turning you around. You tried to resist, you didn’t really want to let him see you crying because you couldn’t explain it anyway, but it was like fighting a losing battle.

You saw the moment that Will realised you were crying and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?” He asked, a tone of worry evident in his voice.

You didn’t say anything as Will studied you. “Are you feeling breathless? Y/N, talk to me.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered again.

“What…” Will trailed off, before helping you sit up, sitting on the ground in front of you, and looking straight into your eyes.

“I didn’t… I just didn’t want you to worry.” You whispered, pulling your eyes away from his. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They said it was stress symptoms. I…”

“Woah.” Will stopped you, realizing what was happening. “I’m not mad.”

You looked up at him, as he continued, “I’m just worried. You should have told me this was happening.”

“I’m sorry.” You said again, as Will got to his knees and enveloped you into a hug.

“It was hard.” You whispered. “Being away from you for a year.”

Will didn’t say anything but you could feel him leaning further into you.

“But you’re here now.” He finally whispered in your ear. “I’ll take care of you.”

You pulled out of his embrace to look at him, putting a hand on his cheek, his stubble tickling your palm. “We’re lucky, it’s not that serious. We just need to manage it, and you’ll be fine… we’ll be fine.” Will whispered.

You smiled, “Thanks, Will.”

“Don’t keep it from me if you’re unwell, okay?” Will asked.

You nodded. “Okay, I promise.” You answered, smiling as you nuzzled back into his embrace.

---

WILL HALSTEAD TAGLIST

@winterberryfox | @bestillmystuckyheart | @jayhlstead | @winterreader-nowwriter

If you would like to be added to a taglist, you may request here or send me an ask!

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

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Human!Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: What The Fuck Now, Freddy!?

Notes:

This is not inherently romantic, at all. Or sexual. Just... Freddy being a bastard, and you are caught in the crosshairs- and are forever linked with him because of it.

I've been listening to Lizzie, a lot lately- and this is inspired by 'What The Fuck Now, Lizzie!?'

Also- I'm thinking this will have a part 2. Due to the ending not being quite enough. Maybe a part for the court proceedings!

Plot: Many will know the story of that terrible day Krueger essentially snapped- killing his wife, Loretta Krueger. She saw the basement, they say, and he didn't like that. Their daughter saw the whole thing and suffered a traumatic response to seeing the sight of her mother, strangled to death, by her father- and forgot the whole thing.

But if she were to remember something, one day.

She may remember something no one knows about that day, aside from Freddy himself.

She may remember, that someone else was there.

She may remember you.

Alternatively- you're being blackmailed by Freddy who found out you, another supposedly Plain Jane in Loretta's 'mothers club', is cheating on your husband and calls you up to help deal with the mess he made. Because who else did he have?

Warnings: Okay lemme see, its basically a potluck of triggers. Hm. Murder, swearing, cheating (You, on your husband. Not with Freddy), getting rid of a body, a child gets traumatised (Obviously, Kathy/Maggie), Freddy himself, mention of the basement and all that entails, reader with a very questionable moral compass. Look, I think if you can watch Freddy's Dead, you're good here.

I'm just heading out the door, to go grocery shopping - or, at least, that's the story I tell my husband. When really I don't do the grocery shop until the day after tomorrow. He never notices... - when the phone rings. By very nearly tripping over my feet in my endeavour to catch it before the ringing stops, I manage pick up the phone with very little injury besides an achy, slightly twisted ankle. "Hi! Hi, sorry, I'm here. Hello?"

Pouting, I sit down at the kitchen table; Rubbing my poor ankle to sooth the pain, which would soon diminish anyway. Still- I'm sorry, ankle. I'll try to chill.

When the voice on the other end reveals who it is who's called the house, I lose all need to be pleasant. Damn. I really need to memorise this goddamn number... so I can not answer it. "Whatcha wearin'?"

"Thank god Harrison didn't answer this, you fuck." I deeply roll my eyes. Thank god Har's out. No, this is not my mister, not the man I was going to meet just now- but its bad, enough. In an entirely different way. Its stupid, blackmailing, son of a... hundred maniacs. "What do you want?"

"What a way to answer the phone, Y/N. Gee, seems like every time I we talk, I'm learning how you really aren't in the right place, are you? Cheating on your poor husband, swearing... These aren't really signs of the perfect suburban house wife, is it?" Gritting my teeth, I keep from lashing out. I've learned, if you stay real quiet, Freddy wont have anything to pull from and will get bored quick. "Why so silent, hm?"

"... " Oh, fuck me. I cant help it. "Wondering where you get off judging me on being 'suburban', actually."

"Anywhere I like, thanks."

Oh... oh. Gross?

He doesn't see the disgust tearing my face into two perfect halves right now, but my silence must be enough as he laughs. The sound is directly into the phone, and harsh on my poor eardrums. Ugh... "Oh for gods sake... What are we? Fourteen years old?? Come on- why'd you call?"

"Uhhhh... " Quickly, midway through that drawn out 'um' sound, Freddy's voice transitions, and gets a whole lot darker. Something deep in his chest dislodging, to make it so. Perhaps, his heart. "Well... you might wanna come and see for yourself."

"Uh, I don't think so. I have somewhere to be right now- "

"Oh well you don't, anymore." And its clear what he isn't saying- or else I'll tell Harrison about Carter and set your life on fire. "Tell your boy toy you're takin' a reign check for the day. I think you'll last. In fact... after you come over here, you might be out of the game for a couple a hours at least- maybe days."

Hold on, hold on Freddy what the fuck- "What!?"

"... Believe it or not, I didn't actually mean for that one."

Moron.

Nevertheless, no matter how just... off setting, Freddy is, I had to when he asked. I had to jump when he said so.

Because if not, then he would tear my life apart.

So here I am, about to knock on that big red door he lives behind, wondering what I'm walking into. Where's Loretta? Where's Kathy? How long will the visit be? I told Carter I'd be an hour or two late- any longer and I wont see him at all today. Which would absolutely suck.

Just after my knuckles come down on the wood the first time, a hand comes down on my shoulder and I immediately jump out of my skin... then slowly look around.

There's Freddy, a cheeky grin on his face. It does nothing to set my nerves at ease. "Ugh... Why are you out here?"

"We're going to the backyard. Lets go." Taking me by the shoulders, he marches me around the side of the house, instead of through it for some reason, and into the familiar backyard. I've been here numerous times, as Loretta likes to hold our club meetings here - Barbecue's, tea's... that sort of thing. Just to let the kids play together and so the adults can enjoy some adult conversation. Its a nice yard... but depending on what her horrid husband is about to show me, it may not be considered as such anymore... - , but I'm now starting to develop a sick feeling in my stomach.

Honestly- I don't know much about Freddy at all. Yes, I went to school with him, but that doesn't mean much when he was a freaky loner kid the whole time. I remember he killed the class hamster once- that's about the only splash he ever made in the news pool; But it definitely stuck.

Yes, Loretta cleaned up his image a fair bit since getting married, but now he's blackmailing me, and as far as I know I'm now alone with him.

Suspicious of him suddenly, I slip out of his grip with a dirty look flashed his way. Don't touch me.

He just rolls his eyes, leading me around some hedges.

And then everything stops.

Him, me, the air; The air around me, the breeze, the breath in my throat.

There lays Loretta, on the ground. If I was really really naïve, I could imagine she were sleeping... or passed out, at least, due to the way she's sprawled out. No one would lay down like that willingly.

But... her eyes are open.

For a moment I'm tempted to kneel down; Take a closer look. Find out how, myself. Is she bleeding anywhere that I cant see now? Are her lips turning blue? If I moved some short red hair out of the way- would their be marks on her neck yet?

But then I come to my senses...

And freak. The fuck. O u t.

"What, the fuck, did you do!?" I whip around, looking at Freddy now which entirely new eyes. I mean, before I sure wasn't fond- but now I'm filled with something new, looking at him. Something a lot worse, something that makes me want to run. Run, and hide, and stay there.

And all these, even though he hasn't really changed. He still wears a mischievous smirk, stony blue eyes eating up my reactions... like always. But this time its just so so much worse. "Made some dead weight- now you're gonna help me get rid of it. So!" Finally, though its been only a matter of seconds, he turns his gaze off of me and I'm glad. That gaze is far too heavy. "Ideas?"

Only for a moment am I lost for words, struggling to push anything out. "I... I'm sorry??"

His gaze returns to mine, but this time my eyes are hard as his are dark. "Help. Me. Get rid of her. Fucking. Body. Or do you want your dirty laundry aired for the whole community to hear?"

Before I can help myself, I let out a sharp laugh, only succeeding in making Freddy's scowl deeper. "Freddy- this secret's a lot bigger, then mine. Sure, I might get divorced- but you're going to prison!" Does he get that? He's g o i n g to j a i l. Crossing my arms, I try to avoid looking at my ex-friend's body. I cant. "I'm sure as hell not gonna be in there with you, for being an accomplice."

I really cant look at her... I can only focus on Freddy. And that takes a lot of energy- its taking everything in me, in fact. Everything I have. But I have to. If its him or her, there's no choice.

But... then a creepy smile spreads across his face- a vast polarity to the frustrated glower of before. It makes my blood run cold.

"Ohhhh..." He looks almost ferocious, even in his composed state. Like a monster. Like any moment a fanged, inhuman creature is going to burst out of him and I'm going to wake up, and this will have been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. The kind where that creature haunts me for a long time, after its over. After this over.

He's going to haunt me.

"You must think this is my first time... " My heart turns to ice, mouth hanging a little open... what the fuck have I found myself a part of!? Suddenly all the children's disappearances on the news lately come to the forefront of my brain... "Sweetheart, give a man his dues. I'm a hard working kinda guy... " I watch his gaze flicker to a door - the back door? No... The basement door, - and when a filthy smirk pulls at his mouth, my heart flies up into my throat. God, it makes me feel sick. I want to be violently ill. "My first was my adoptive Dad... pretty sick, huh?"

The fact that he didn't say anything about the basement, makes my imagination go wild. I swallow it down, though.

I just need to get out of here, and never think about this again.

And to do that I need to help Freddy get rid of this goddamn body- and... probably... testify at court... As the panic starts to finally rise up in my, right up to fill my throat, I immediately take in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Okay... " No time to freak out. Now's the time for action.

Gaze flickering to Loretta again, I try to acclimatise to the sight. I think its a lost cause, though. "How did you get rid of him? Your Dad?"

"No, that's not gonna work. He was a drunk dead beat, and I just had to tell the police some guy's he owed money to came over to the house." Freddy grins happily at the memory, but then just as quickly, scowls at his poor deceased wife's body- that certainly cant fight back. I just tack this onto the long list of reasons I hate him. "Lore's such a goddamn goody goody- we cant do the same thing. You don't think I woulda thought of that??"

"Hey." I snap, hands braced on my hips as I flash a glare his way. "This is not the time to get defensive!"

"Whatever... "

Then- suddenly, something occurs to me. Confused, I look around; A deeply horrified feeling disturbing my stomach. "Hold on... Where's your daughter?" Seeing no sign of her anywhere, I definitely start to panic again- especially when I look to Freddy and just see a pert look in his eyes as he looks back at me, a smile that strikes something horrid inside me. My eyes narrow. "You sick fuck- where the fuck is she!??"

"Under the bed."

"What the fuck does that mean!?" I exclaim, frustrated and freaking out. He did not- he did not! Killing your spouse is one thing, but the kid?? Your own kid??

I don't wait around for him to be cryptic some more, and rush right into the house to look for her. Under the bed, under the bed, under the fucking bed...? Which fucking bed!? Forcing ferocity out of my voice, I carefully call out to Kathy. Hoping to god she answers. I try to sound normal. Maybe a little bit cheerful; Excited.

But my voice wobbles.

"Kathy?? Sweetheart, its Y/N! Are you hiding? I have something for you... " ?? You have something for her, Y/N?? God... now you have to figure out some kind of treat.

You know what? Whatever. We'll figure that out later.

Lets just hope we aren't searching for a corpse. I'd definitely be sick, seeing a child... the way Loretta is...

Shaking my head and clenching my fists, I try to focus on Kathy.

I check under the bed in the guest room because it comes into view first and she isn't there, then her bedroom and she isn't there either... and get a sick feeling as soon as I enter the last bedroom. Freddy's and Loretta's.

God, I've never been in here before but its like a museum peace now. A horrible one. Like if you would walk into the Titanic... or the Borden house.

"Kathy? You in here?" Flicking on the light I kneel down on the ground, and check under the bed.

And something immediately crashes over me, as the sight of her covering her eyes down there. It isn't exactly relief, because this whole situation is still phenomenally fucked up for her, but I am selfishly glad to not have to see her body... crumpled, just like her mother.

"Hey sweetheart," My voice quivers slightly now, but I quickly swallow. No. No. Now, you must be strong Y/N. "Its just me. Your Daddy was looking for you, and couldn't find you! It got him worried!"

"I... I don't wanna see Daddy. He hurt Mommy." Kathy doesn't remove her hands from her face, and stays firmly by the wall- too far away for anyone to grab. My heart sinks.

Slowly straightening up again, I try to take that piece of information in. Turning to the doorway, I see Freddy there. he must have followed me. I didn't even notice. Slowly, and quietly ferociously, I say; "She saw?!"

He has the good sense to look embarrassed, even if it is just to make fun of me. "It was spur of the moment... " He shrugs. "I didn't have time to get a babysitter!"

What a fucking excuse. For gods sake.

I'm definitely dealing with a psycho- if that was even a question before now.

Swiftly, I look down under the bed again, because I'm afraid that if I continue to engage with him- I'll scream, and I'll lose my breath, and I'll scare Kathy even more. She's at the forefront of my mind; That's all I can think about.

But what to do with her after I get her out from under this bed, I don't know. I cant give her back to her father... but I cant hand her over to the police either because that would involve telling them about Loretta, and... Freddy will definitely kill me, for that.

This is a nightmare of a situation.

I'm just opening my mouth to say something - what, I don't know yet, - when she speaks, instead. "Is he there?"

"... Yes." I wont lie to her; That would be treating her with not nearly as much respect as she deserves.

When she takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes, as if just trying to keep herself together, my heart clenches. God... and to think I might not have picks up Freddy's call today. I would have been leaving her with this. For the first time today, I'm morbidly glad I came.

She speaks in that loud, hissy way that kids think is a whisper. "Can he... can you please make him go away?"

Immediately I straighten back up and look to Freddy again, my eyebrows raised halfway up my forehead. Like well? "Get out."

"I don't think you're in a position to make demands here, bi- "

"Do you want Kathy to live down there now!??" I snap, trying not to be scared. Not really feeling scared, actually. Just happy to have a reason to tell him to get the hell away from me.

A deep frown creases his mouth, deeply unhappy about the situation, but steps back. I only hear him step out of the way of the door, but its good enough. Quickly, I get up and close the door - fighting with myself not to slam it, - and lock it.

Then I return to the floor, and see this time Kathy has uncovered her eyes. She looks so small, smaller then she actually is, and she looks like she's shaking. Little red bows and piggy tails in her hair are messy from crawling under the bed. "He's gone, sweetheart. And I locked the door."

She just nods, so I take the silence as a chance to offer my hand to her. "Take my hand, sweetie? Come on out from under the bed. Its cold down there, and no one wants you getting sick." I need to upkeep the family friend bit, I need to sound caring and collected. I need her to trust me.

Her big eyes, not Loretta's colour or Freddy's, look nervous as hell. And she shakes her head.

Taking a deep breath, and I conjure all the sincerity as I can. And mean it. My eyes soften and I try really hard, to resent myself as someone trustworthy- which is hard, seeing as I've never really been that. I mean, I'm cheating on my husband. I told Carter today the same lie I told Harrison when i knew I was going to be late. The only person I think who knows the truth behind all my lies is Freddy. That says something about a person, that the only person who knows them is a psychopath.

But I want to, I need to, be good for this little girl. And there's no time for me turn my life around so it has to start with this. How fucked is that?

"... I promise, I'll take care of you. He wont hurt you."

After a few whole minutes, in which I stay silent because yes she's a child, but she's still thinking, she crawls over and takes my hand, letting me lead her out. Crawling into my lap as I cross my legs under her, she buries her face in my shirt- hiding. "You promise?"

Taking a deep breath, because I've really done it now, I offer my pinky for her to see if she turned her head. I know Freddy's listening to all of this through the wall, but I try not to freak out. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear." She peaks out from my shirt, and curls her little finger around mine. Okay... "Y/N... I'm scared."

"Yeah... Me too, sweetie."

What am I going to do?

#Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader #Freddy Krueger x Reader #Slashers #Slashers x Reader #Fem Reader #Freddy Krueger #Loretta Krueger #Katherine Krueger #Kathrine Krueger #Maggie Burroughs #Oneshot #Freddy Krueger x Reader Oneshot

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janekfan · 4 years

Note

hi friend!! i sent this prompt, but tumblr said it didn't go through. so if you get it twice, ignore this, BUT! i'm deep into jon&tim friendship/frenemyship, so if you're interested in a prompt: what about Jon asking Elias if he can take a sick day, but Elias denying it for some reason or another. tim has no sympathy for jon until he learns that a) jon is really feverish, and b) he tried to be responsible and was told no :( (if you don't like this prompt, I can try again!)

Thank you so much @taylortut! I really enjoyed writing this :) Strained Tim/Jon is a favorite of mine!

I hope I did your prompt justice!!!

Boundaries

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870714

“I’ve already done this one.” Tim shoved the folder back into Jon’s hands, pretending that he didn’t see the way the man flinched. Or the way he swayed very slightly back and forth, dead on his feet. “Go home. You look shite and you’re wasting my time.”

“I, I. I can’t.” The smallest tremor seemed to underline those words and he turned aside to cough into his elbow.

“Then get out of here.” He turned back to his phone, mumbling. “I don’t want whatever you have.” Because Jon looked awful with his greying hair slipping out of the tie and into his sweaty, fever flushed face.

“Tim--”

“Bye, Jon.” Clipped. Short. Edging toward angry.

“R’r’ight. Thank you, Tim.” The limp, more pronounced when he was tired, seemed much worse today. Absently, he wondered if Jon had his cane before deciding it was none of his business.

Jon didn’t need them anyway. He’d made that abundantly clear.

It was easy to avoid Jon if he didn’t seek him out. Whether through paranoia or embarrassment, the archivist kept his distance unless there was research that needed to be done that he couldn’t handle himself. And that was currently piling up on the corner of Tim’s desk because he’d be damned if he did anything to help this place after what it kept taking.

So, of course, twice in one day, their paths crossed. Tim was on his way to raid the fridge when he saw Jon in the stacks on the rolling ladder. He was paused halfway up, gripping a file so hard the folder creased and resting his forehead on the nearest step, shivering so strongly Tim could see it from where he stood. Shoulders hitching, Jon coughed half heartedly, the sound he made when he was through catching his breath a cross between a whine and a groan; certainly not something he would ever allow anyone to hear if he knew he was being watched. If he wanted to suffer at playing martyr instead of going home, Tim was happy to let him.

Maybe Martin was in the breakroom. He still tolerated Jon.

Tim liked to tell himself that he didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But with Jon being. Jon. That wasn’t entirely true, was it?

“I told you to go home, Jon.” Martin sounded exasperated and that was no surprise. Who wasn’t cross with Jon these days? But there was worry there too, and when Jon’s wet cough echoed into the hallway, Tim could understand why.

“Elias,” his voice was hoarse and it sounded like speaking hurt. “Elias told me once I’ve finished--he said I c’couldn’t.”

“Jon?”

“Finished something, I’m sorry, I can’t, can’t seem to recall exactly what it was.” Frowning, Tim pressed closer, trying to hear what was being said, but Jon’s words were slipping in and out like the tide, fading into shallow panting, like he couldn’t quite focus. He sounded exhausted.

“Oh, Jon.” Another round of breathless hacking followed. “Here.” Tim narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what they were doing.

“Th’thank you, Martin.” It was strange that Jon allowed all this fuss.

“You need to rest.”

“I tried to, to.” The next noise sounded suspiciously like a choked off sob. “Tried to tell him.”

“I know you did. It’s not your fault he’s a right prick.” Why did Jon even listen to Elias anyway? At least this explained why he’d told Tim he couldn’t leave earlier. The one time in probably his entire life he tried to take some leave.

“Heh,” Jon sounded seconds away from snapping in half completely, done in enough that his walls were coming down. “The one t’time I ask for a sick d’day.”

“Alright, well. You’ll have to rest here then.”

“B’but Elias--”

“He can speak to me if he’s a problem with it.” Tim smiled at Martin’s irate tone and it spoke to how very poorly Jon must’ve been feeling that he didn’t attempt to argue again. “Can you stand?” Tim heard the squeak of Jon’s desk chair, a brief clattering, Martin’s exclamation, and decided it was time to stop hiding, opening the door and stepping inside.

“I heard coughing--oh.” Jon was crumpled over Martin’s arm, body completely limp, and Tim rushed forward to help sit him back in the chair, patting his face gently until he came around. He was positively boiling.

“Jon?” Martin was supporting his head with one hand, pushing his hair back with the other.

“S’sorry...jus’...” Groggy, his head lolled. “Spinning.”

“Okay.” A conflicted expression flickered over his face and Tim just knew it had to do with him. They needed help and the only person left was him. “Tim. I wouldn’t ask if--”

“I’ll get this side, yeah?” Visibly relieved, Martin nodded gratefully, moving to get Jon’s arm over his own shoulder, and bracing to lift at the same time, slowly, in an attempt to keep him from blacking out a second time. They were up when Jon’s leg buckled completely and Tim rushed to compensate, feeling like a prat for ignoring him all day when he was well and truly ill. “It’s been bothering him more than usual.” Martin nodded his assent and led the way with Jon stumbling between them, doing more to hinder really, but Tim wasn’t going to tell him that. Not this time, with his arm like a brand against the back of his neck and weighing almost nothing between them.

“Alright, Jon. It’s alright.” Being upright wasn’t agreeing with him and Tim told himself he would forget the pitiful noises slipping out of him for both their sakes. They’d just made it to the cot when his breathing picked up, shallow and fast and he slumped further, swallowing thickly and when they set him down he curled up, taking the bin Tim passed over. His throat made a wet click when he swallowed reflexively and his head was all but inside the bin. “If you need to be sick, it’s alright.” Martin was so gentle with him, smoothing a hand down his back slowly while it heaved unevenly.

“N’no…” His exhale was swallowed by the plastic and he sank somehow lower, nigh folded in half with a strangled expletive.

“Tim, would you get some water and paracetamol for me?”

“Sure, Martin.”

When he returned, Martin had divested Jon of most of his layers and he lay trembling under the spare blanket with a damp flannel over his forehead, barely aware.

“I brought tea, uh. It’s got honey. For the cough.”

“That’s perfect, Tim. Thank you.” He levered Jon upright again, letting him rest drowsily against his shoulder while he handed him pills and urged him to take the tea. He had to hold Jon’s hand it was shaking so badly and when he finished he couldn’t keep his eyes open, asleep before Martin settled him back down. “There.” He sighed, adjusting the flannel over his eyes before sitting back to check the hour and supplies, fixing Tim with a look when he’d finished.

“Thought he was being.” Tim gestured broadly. “Jon.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands. “Didn’t know he’d actually.”

“Asked Elias for a day off?”

“Mm.”

“To be fair, I did have to bully him into it. Lotta good that did. He’s. He’s trying, you know? In his own way.” Tim looked away, dropping his eyes to Jon’s thin face with its dark, ashen skin and deep shadows. The scars. The same ones that marked Tim inside and out.

“Yeah.” But it didn’t help, did it? Not when he was still so angry with him for suspecting and spying on them. Not trusting them. Because they were supposed to be friends and friends didn’t do that. “Yeah.” Just the same, when Jon shifted uneasily in his sleep, Tim replaced the flannel, letting his hand linger longer than absolutely necessary.

#@taylortut #tma fanfic #tma #sickfic #sick jon #jon sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #prompt #I take those :D

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

Another Year

Summary: Arthur’s birthday is coming up. Y/N wants nothing more than to make it great.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 3,892

A/N: This request came from the one-of-a-kind, fabulous @sweet-nothings04! Thank you for asking for this. I enjoyed writing it a lot!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! Keep them coming!

Y/N hadn't realized how much she'd missed putting together birthday celebrations. Not until the unexpected serendipity of falling in love again. Her ex-husband had preferred not to make a big deal of them, had stated he hated getting older. (Considering he'd been in his twenties, she'd found that assertion silly.) As her father had slipped away, special events and gifts had gone by the wayside to focus on routines that wouldn't throw him off kilter. She'd been invited to her sister's and brother-in-law's parties but had only stayed for the hour or two she'd hired a sitter. And while she wasn't the most attentive aunt, she always ensured her nephews and nieces at least got a card and money for a treat.

From what she'd gathered, birthdays had never been an important facet of Arthur's life. That had become obvious upon learning his was 11/21/1946 by reading documents instead of from him. When she'd discovered he'd turned thirty-five and hadn't even told her. But unlike her ex, it wasn't because he didn't want them to be. It was due to neglect, isolation, and the inability to connect. As much sympathy as she had for Penny, for her own illnesses and suffering, for what had been done to her, the wounds she'd inflicted on her son hurt Y/N’s heart. There were so many lost years. She was determined to make-up for them by spoiling him.

The diner where Patricia and she often met for lunch was halfway between their two offices. A five- or six-minute walk for them both. Y/N arrived first. She sat at the white and gold Formica counter and perused the menu. (Though she'd already decided to get her usual pastrami on wheat, garlic pickle, and coleslaw.) Patricia strolled in as the waitress jotted down Y/N's order, and told the young lady she'd have whatever Y/N was having.

They caught up quickly. The Wayne Foundation case was going to have a preliminary hearing in three weeks. Y/N couldn't have rolled her eyes harder. ("Thank god I won't be there. They'd have to drag me off the stand.") Patricia listened with interest while Y/N went on about a dispute involving break violations at Ace Chemicals. And Patricia invited her to stop by the office soon, claiming Matt had realized he'd been stupid to let her quit. ("I'm sure he misses me being a pain in his ass.")

Y/N was picking at the crust of her sandwich when she changed the subject. “I need a favor.”

Patricia arched a brow at her. “Is this going to involve me lugging boxes of files to your apartment?”

“Only if you want the workout.” Chuckling, Y/N shook her head. “Arthur’s birthday is next Saturday. You bake the best cakes. If I’m left to my own devices, he’s going to get something out of a Universal Foods’ box.”

“Mine are out of a box. I just modify the directions and make my own frosting.” Patricia used the rest of her bread to sop up her coleslaw’s dressing. “How old did you say he’s going to be? Thirty-five?”

“Thirty-six.”

Swallowing her last bite, Patricia quirked up the corner of her lips. “I still owe you for running those supplies to the office when my foot was broken. What kind does he like?”

Y/N hugged her tight across the shoulders. After a short discussion, they decided on chocolate with vanilla cream frosting - a safe choice. It would be small, since it was only for the two of them. Arthur had a job the day before. That would allow her to take it home without him seeing. She’d just have to keep him away from the fridge the rest of the evening.

They talked about the other things Y/N had in-store for him, the reservation, the gifts. She giggled, pleased at having successfully hidden it all from him so far. “You’re putting a lot of work into this,” Patricia said. “What did you do last year?”

“I didn’t know about it last year. He didn’t mention it.” Though Patricia was already aware of some of Arthur’s past, Y/N had kept the details to a minimum. She tried to think of an elaboration, one that respected his privacy but was honest. She started in on her pickle. “With Penny being sick - with everything he was going through...”

Sipping her coffee, Patricia spun her stool to face Y/N fully. “You don’t need to say anymore. I remember. It was hard for you both.”

The empathy in Patricia’s gaze prompted a smile. And reminded Y/N how grateful she was for a friend who was frank but unjudgmental. “Back then, he thought needing or wanting anything from me was a bother. But he’s getting better at letting me love him.” Y/N put a hand on her chest. “And now he’ll never need to mention it. It’s locked in here for good.”

~~~~~

Yesterday had left Arthur in a funk. One that showed signs of adhering to his brain the way flies had stuck to the tape he’d had to hang from the ceiling of his old apartment every spring. He’d spent close to twelve hours dancing and waving a “Store Closing! Everything 50-70% off!” placard in front of Dave’s Pleasure Emporium in Gotham Square. (The city must really be fucked if its denizens’ finances were shitty enough that adult shops were shutting down.) It had been his least favorite gig in months. But the slow season was coming on, and the pay had been decent.

The dull ache in his lower spine, radiating to his hip, had made it harder than usual to sleep. And soreness was seeping from familiar spots to sinews he’d forgotten were there. Even the tips of his toes hurt. Two more ibuprofen tablets and acetaminophen went down easily. Carefully, not wanting to rouse her, he removed Y/N’s hand from his stomach, wincing as he shifted onto his left side to alleviate the pressure on his right.

Thirty-five was too old for this. While he loved performing for children, he should have made it as a comic by now. And he should have finished school. He’d be able to do more than be on his feet all day, then. Have more options. Opportunities...

Or maybe he simply shouldn’t have taken that particular job.

The ability to stop catastrophizing, adjust his way of thinking, was new. And rare. He made a mental note to write today’s accomplishment in his journal and share it at his next appointment. The therapist would be impressed with him. Dozing, he thought his funk might abate after all.

It could have been five or fifty minutes later when he felt the comforter being dragged down. Heard the zip of the shades being rolled up. But he was in that snug state between wakefulness and slumber and refused to react. Then there was a pinch on his chin, a light weight on his scalp. “What are you doing?” he mumbled gravelly.

“It’s someone’s special day today,” Y/N said.

Oh. That’s right. He was thirty-six now.

Squinting in the bright sunlight filtering through their sheer curtains, he propped himself on his forearm. She was half-reclined next to him, draped in a short, black nightdress. The one she found a tad tawdry but he liked. He rubbed his eyes, his forehead. Thin cardboard stopped him when he reached his hair. His fingers followed it, found it tapered into a point.

A party hat. She’d gotten him a party hat. He couldn’t hold back his snort.

In his line of work, birthdays were for kids. He’d stopped caring about his own as a teenager. Penny had seemingly been glad he was around. But she never remembered. Hell, he’d had to remind her of her own. But the last acknowledgment of it, the last one before meeting Y/N, had been by a teacher. He’d gotten an extra five minutes of recess and escaped punishment for inappropriate laughter for the day.

This was his first birthday with a person who saw and loved him. Understood who he was. Knew he was more than some image projected onto him. A person who appeared thrilled he existed and to be in his life. As a husband. Every sit-com and film he’d watched had clued him in: wives deemed them important. They hid gifts, cooked special meals, sneaked around arranging parties. There hadn’t been any sneaking on Y/N’s part, none that he could detect. He wondered what she could have planned.

The kneading of her thumb in the hollow of his hip, briefs slung too low as usual, gave him a good idea of her plan for this morning. The entangling of their legs confirmed it. “I got donuts. Coffee’s ready.”

“You, um-“ He cleared his throat, closed his eyes at the brush of her thigh against his length. Which was getting harder with each touch of her lips to the crook of his neck. “You didn’t make breakfast?”

“No.” Her chuckle was throaty, full of desire. “I wasn’t going to torture you with burnt eggs.” She was pulling at his biceps, trying to get him to settle over her. “Let’s work up your appetite, Mr. Fleck.”

But he flinched and halted her movements. The painkillers hadn't kicked in yet. His muscles burned. "We'll get to it later," he promised between languid, lingering kisses. The kind that made him feel safe. Loved. Famished for her. She guided him onto his stomach, stroked him affectionately. Breaths mingling, they chatted lazily until they both cooled off.

Once his stomach started rumbling, Y/N insisted they get up, despite his protestations that he wasn't hungry. That staying under the covers with her for hours would be fun. That they could eat in bed, crumbs be damned. His back would get worse if he continued laying like that, she told him. He needed to stretch and move. Although he grumbled, his experiences with injuries, whether from overwork, assholes, or sleeping on a couch most of his life, had taught him she was right.

Following a cigarette on the fire escape, he went to the kitchen, grabbed a mug, and did a double-take at the round table in the dining nook. He approached it in disbelief. He tensed as he ran his hand along the rectangular gifts and their shiny red paper. Squeezed the puffy, tan winter coat. Fingered the silver ribbon tied to the chair, dangling from an aluminum helium balloon. The lump in his throat forced a short laugh. But he didn't cover his mouth, not having to hide from her. He shook his head, wiping at the sudden wetness in his eyes. "All this is for me?" He did his best to sound normal.

"No. They're for my other husband, Carnival." She came behind him, hugged him around his torso and splayed her fingers on his chest. "You may have met him. Has a penchant for making balloon animals? Wears pants with the cutest patch on his bottom?" He grasped her forearm, held her tight to him as his shoulders shook with mirth.

It wasn't yet eight o'clock. And the day was already shaping up to be one of his favorites.

~~~~~

At the vanity on Arthur's side of the bed, Y/N was attempting to create the perfect oval eye with brown liner. The wide smile creeping onto her face wasn't making it easy. But it couldn't be helped. Everything had gone wonderfully so far. Had more than met her expectations. She hoped his had been met, too.

She'd been badgering him to get a winter coat since last Christmas. (His teeth had chattered almost the entire time they'd stood outside to watch Gotham's Christmas parade. The hot chocolate from a vendor hadn't done much good. A long bath had been necessary to finally warm him up.) The one she'd picked out fit him well, and he'd seemed to like it, hanging it by the door next to his tan jacket. And she'd known he was attached to his trusty, foil razor. But it was over fifteen years old, taped together, and on its way out. The new one had a rechargeable battery. He wouldn't be tethered to the outlet over the sink if he wanted to move around a bit.

The twitch of his nostrils, his hitched breath as he'd whispered, "Thank you," had compelled her to kneel next to his chair. The poignancy of his reaction had affected her keenly. Hollowed out her core and filled it with compassion and love. He'd frowned and wiped his nose with the back of his knuckles. "Sorry," he'd scoffed, glistening eyes darting to hers. "I don't mean to be weird."

"You're not, Arthur." She'd gently removed his black and red polka-dotted party hat, set it on the table. "You're being you."

After a quick lunch, they'd leisurely strolled arm-in-arm through the neighborhood, including a visit to the nearby park. Arthur had wanted to stop into the used record shop three or four blocks away. She'd caressed up and down his back, observing his content visage as he flipped through the LPs. It was lovely to see him treat himself to a couple without hesitating to worry about the cost for too long. At home, he'd settled on the floor by the record player and put them on. He must have been feeling better, because he'd kept his earlier promise: they'd made love on the carpet. Unhurried, sweet, and giggling like idiots.

The opening of the bathroom door broke her out of her reverie. She started blotting her darker-than-usual red lipstick with a tissue. "It was nice of Patricia to get me aftershave," he said.

She smoothed the lines of her champagne color, mid-length dress, adjusted its petal sleeves, then twisted around just as he entered the bedroom. Her movements halted. Would his handsomeness, his beauty, ever fail to stun her? Gaze roaming his slender form, she stared at him. He'd only worn his black and brown oxfords seldomly, saving them for special occasions. The wrinkled white socks didn't match his black pants, but they paired well with him.

It was the teal button-up, patterned with white circles of various opacities and sizes, that caused her to need a few seconds to process his remark. It'd hung in the corner of his old living room; she'd eyed it in their closet since he'd moved in. It was such a contrast to his usual conservative clothing. Quite unlike him, she'd assumed. But seeing him standing there in it, the way it complimented his lithe figure and brought out the light green of his irises, made him look a little less withdrawn, she realized she'd been mistaken.

"She thought it'd suit your new shaver." He gave a gentle hum in response, bashful smile appearing. Such gestures were unfamiliar to him. Eventually, they'd become such an integral part of his life he'd grow tired of them. Y/N would make sure of that. The idea prompted a grin and she stepped around the bed to approach him. "You look great. Are you ready?"

“Yeah.” The crook of his mouth, the furrow of his forehead alerted her to his nervousness. He rubbed the back of his neck, flitted his look to hers. “It sounds fancy.”

She kissed him soundly and he eased into her embrace. “You don’t have to impress me,” she said. “You already did that. Use whichever fork you want.”

The restaurant was in Gotham’s Little Italy district, only a block or two from Chinatown. Y/N had never been to Bamonte’s but her colleagues had given it good reviews. (One had said he and his wife went there every anniversary.) Arthur gaped when they went inside. She watched him survey the lavish, red curtains decorating the walls; the dim lanterns suspended from the ceiling; the faux-marble floor. Huffing, he turned to her, concern clear on his face. She grasped his elbow. “It’s all right. You belong here as much as anyone else.”

The maitre’d led them to a secluded table, behind its own drawn back drapes in the rear corner of the smoking section. Arthur traced the edges of the three lit, tulip-shaped votive holders. Caressed the cream color tablecloth as he sat in the fabric covered chair. An anxious chuckle left him and he smoothed his palm over his thigh. “I hope I don’t spill anything.”

Y/N assisted Arthur with the menu, explaining some of the more exotic-to-him dishes. He was interested in the antipasto, which wasn’t unexpected, since he always kept a jar of olives in the fridge. The gnocchi with tomatoes, spinach, fresh basil, and mozzarella was what he thought sounded best. She chose an old favorite, chicken in a mushroom and white wine sauce and a Caesar salad on the side. Arthur picked the least expensive Moscato on the wine list. When the bottle was opened and left on the table, he blinked at it, then shrugged and filled their glasses.

After a couple of sips, he crossed his legs and puffed on his cigarette. “I wrote a new joke. Well, I really just changed an old one.” He reached across the table to graze across the back of her hand. “Why didn’t the old man like having insomnia?”

Her eyelids fluttered, his gossamer touch setting her aflame. She ran her toes along his calf, his resulting twitch causing her to giggle in delight. “He wanted to sleep with his wife?”

Dark brows shot up in surprise, his eyes lighting up. Their fingers laced together. “How did you know?”

Leaning forward, she traced his crow's feet, prominent due to his beaming smile. Then her touch drifted to his jawline. “It was the first joke you ever told me," she murmured. "How could I forget?” Clutching her hand, he pressed a kiss to her wrist. He held her to his lips, hard enough to feel his teeth. And he grew quiet. “What is it?” she asked after a minute.

His eyelids shut. She could feel his pulse quicken together with hers. “I- I wanna sleep with you forever,” he breathed.

Out of anyone else’s mouth, she would have taken that to mean sex. From him, however, she knew it meant mountains more. Adoration welling in her chest, her fingertips weaved into his loose, chestnut curls. “You will.”

~~~~~

Once, in high school, Arthur had gotten a hold of some grass. It was supposed to induce giddiness and euphoria, make a person relax. God knows he could have used it back then; Penny had started declining and he’d had to learn to run a household. Plus, he’d thought at the time, it’d make him one of the guys. All the cool kids were doing it. Maybe he’d be able to connect with one and learn how to be popular. But all it had done was make him nauseous and paranoid. There hadn’t been one iota of the “high” he’d imagined. He’d thrown it out and never tried it again.

Now he wondered: was it possible to be high on a person? To be drunk on their presence? To feel their essence down to the cell? Necking on the sofa with Y/N, their coffee forgotten on the coffee table, he figured it must be. Enraptured, he wanted to capture her ragged breaths, take her into his lungs, make her a perpetual part of his being. Perhaps he’d stay happy naturally, then, like everyone else. Even if that didn’t work, she’d always be close.

Giggling, she pushed him off her and headed towards the kitchen. “Wait here. No peeking.”

Laughing softly, Arthur pushed his hair out of his face. She’d already gotten him gifts. Let him make love to her. Taken him to an eatery where he was totally out of place and managed to make it comfortable. What else could she possibly do? Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. He eagerly followed at the call of his name.

The loveliest cake he’d ever seen was on the counter. Dark chocolate shavings embellished its round border. And it was the perfect size for the two of them. Y/N was rushing to light a mass of candles on it. “Quick, make a wish before wax drips onto the frosting.”

He mused for a moment. He no longer needed to pine for daydreams and delusions of companionship - he had Y/N. In spite of the icons his mother had had in every room of their apartment, he’d long ago stopped praying to what he suspected was nothing for his conditions and illnesses to go away. Then it occurred to him. Bending to blow out the candles, he wished for his innate comedic gifts to be recognized. To be validated as the stand-up he knew he was. And to provide for Y/N. To be what she needed. To make her happy.

Although he was grateful for Patricia’s thoughtfulness, and he knew Y/N’s baking wasn’t better than his own, part of him had wanted her to be the one who made the cake. But he tried to push that aside and appreciate it regardless. The slice she gave him was far too generous. He ate it all, anyway, because it was delicious. The sponge was fluffy. And the chocolate could actually be detected, instead of a vague, sugary flavor. The frosting tasted finer than that on the grocery store bakery cupcakes he’d sampled in the past.

As he was rinsing off the cutlery, Y/N saddled up beside him and held out a bright purple envelope, inscribed with “Happy Birthday!” in her pretty longhand. He leaned his hip against the counter as he grasped it, intentionally brushing his hand against hers. Gingerly, he lifted the flap and pulled out the card.

The cardstock was a vibrant gold and white. Two mugs, one green and labeled, “Yours,” one pink and labeled, “Mine” sat on sketched coasters. The shiny purple letters underneath proclaimed, “You get me. I get you.” Pressing his thin lips together, he opened it. And sighed when he read the rest: “Hope you know how happy that makes me.”

One of his wishes had already come true.

The elation coursing through his veins made him shudder. He nearly missed the stiff papers that fell from the envelope. Y/N retrieved them and gently placed them in his palm. A wide smile spread across his cheeks as he read aloud. “‘Gotham Pops presents A Night with Gershwin?’” He double-checked the date. “These are for New Year’s Eve.”

She nodded. “I snagged them as soon as they went on sale. They’re orchestra seats.” Then she squeezed him flush to her side, bumped her nose to his. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you sing to yourself in the tub.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, eyes tracing the diamond pattern of the grey, linoleum floor. “I thought I was quieter.”

“I’m glad you weren’t.” Enthusiastically, her lips pulled at his before she grinned up at him. “Did you have a happy birthday? Was it worth getting older?”

Arthur’s answer came without delay. “Yes.” There wasn’t a way to explain what it meant to him, to explain that she helped him feel good to be alive. How full his heart was. That she patched cracks in his soul he hadn’t known existed. He longed to do the same for her. He cupped her jaw on either side, guiding her to his mouth and rasping, “I don’t mind getting older with you.”

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @howdylilflower @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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yumestar19 · 3 years

Text

Can you make him confess... his sickness!?

When they heard Christo moaning, the demons instantly knew something was wrong. Even Red Magnus let his fist drop and stopped in the middle of his training to face his troublesome-looking friend.

"Are you okay, Christo?" Red Magnus asked with a smile that was too cheerful for Christo to look at, so he dropped his glance.

"I'm fine." He simply said, shaking off the sick feeling that made his limbs ache like... Damn, he couldn't even find a simile. He pushed two fingers against his throbbing temple, silently wishing for the pain to ease. Of course, this would have required luck and let's say luck was something he didn't have because his superior always picked up the worst horoscopes for him. His lucky word for today was "confession". Yeah... He wouldn't go that far...

As Red Magnus didn't stop glaring at him, (his stare almost screamed "suspect", Christo swore he had heard it), the tactician asked politely, "Why don't you continue training?"

"'Cause something's super wrong with you."

Christo's smile dropped, but he tried hard to make a good expression. At least, he had worn a smile for a split second, before the harsh coughing made him hide his face into the soft fabric of his cape.

"I'm fine", he mumbled, sounding less confidently than before.

"Ohohoho, nobody said anything about you not being fine just now" Seraphina's laugh hurt in his ears and he sunk deeper into the fabric, closing his eyes.

"But my, you really look pale", she said at least with a compassionate tone of voice that made her sound like a worried old lady.

"Don't you two have anything better to do than mocking me with your lame jokes?", Christo asked and looked up when he had made sure that there was no blush on his face anymore. Still, he felt like his cheeks were on fire and he could see on his friend's faces that they knew it, too.

That he, an angel, had come down with something only demons could catch.

A demonic sickness.

Damn, how he hated the small grin on Seraphina's face.

"If you are truely sick, then I may need to drop the "you're an angel" attribute of mine, because only demons can get sick, but you should know that."

Christo growled to himself. Why did this spoiled princess always twist the knife into his wound? Didn't he feel awful enough already? Wait, he just needed to think hard... Think hard, think hard... Damn, his headache was killing him. And still, he didn't know how to escape from the situation.

"You know, I don't know why you always mistake me for an angel. Do I have anything in common with such low creatures?" While saying that, he imagined the dumb grin of his superior and it felt so right to continue talking, "Angels are disgusting, awful creatures that will surely accuse you of anything randomly, like... They don't even have proof-supported reasons!" He shook his head like he couldn't believe it.

"So, you're calling me an angel, Christo?", Seraphina asked with a grin wider than the devil's mouth when consuming helpless human souls.

"Y-Yes, ehm no, of course not, no one's an angel here..." Christo looked around like he wanted to make sure. Sweat dropped from his forehead and he was now sure that his body temperature has risen to 200°C, at least it felt like he had developed a moderate fever. Damn, when did the atmosphere turned so hot? Even his throat felt sore and burned and it didn't help with the cough. Oh, when did he cough? He forgot to cover his mouth and yes, they heard it loudly.

Double failure: Usalia and Zeroken just came around the corner.

Now, he was ready to burst into flames.

"What's wrong with you, plip?" A worried child voice squeaked out. Usalia ran as fast as her small legs could carry her and she stopped sharp in front of him. The noisy scratch of the wooden floor made Christo grit his teeth.

"Nothing, nothing", he replied, keeping his composure. Of course, he felt fine. Of course, he was okay. He sense the alrightness throughout his entire body. NOT. (Expect you took away the bone aches, the clogged-up nose, the killing headache and the irritating feeling in his throat, but who would be so kind to stop his suffering? No one, of course.)

"You moaned about your pain a few minutes ago", Red Magnus reminded him.

Christo sighed and looked at all of them. Anger formed a knittering winkle over his nose. Somehow, however, he managed to not shout at them, as it was obvious that they weren't the cause for his malaise.

"Don't you all have something better to do than messing up with another person's life when they are in the middle of a cri... Critical thinking process?" He bit his tongue, surely he almost let the truth slip out. He shook his head and shook it again and again, until he felt so dizzy that he needed to steady himself with one hand on the wall. He smiled like the support made him look cool, when in fact, he looked like he was about to fall over. Zeroken rushed on his side and couldn't stopped himself from making an 'Awwww'-sound.

Of course, God hated him.

"Nawww, you look like a drunk."

"Have you got yourself a drink, plip?"

Christo was short before shouting that angels didn't carelessly drink (although he wondered if his superior had one glass or more whenever he called for stupid reasons), but he kept his mouth shut. There was the urge to cough, building up like a small fire that turned quickly in a major fire. How long was he able to resist? How long could he breathe? He heard the rattling, the little shakes in his voice when he spoke.

"I'm really... fine. Just a little... tired from... thinking."

'Or perhaps, a little bit too much tired from dealing with all of this disturbing non-sense', he thought for himself. It was then that he realized he was tired. Really tired. He could doze off in an instant. Of course, that was no option... Not here, not in front of them.

But this wooden floor almost seemed comfortable... He just needed to let himself fall on it, curl up and sleep. Every problem of his would be banned from the dream world. No pain, no cough, no sniffle, no disturbance.

He still had his pride though. That's why he didn't fall for it...

"Christo, you seem kinda pale. Better sit down." Killia advised him.

Of course, he didn't listen. He just focused on the voice. Had Killia's voice always sounded that soft and lovely like the singing voice of an angel? If so, he hadn't noticed until now. Perhaps, feverish illusions. He was fine with them.

"I'm okay, sweetheart", he said.

Wait... Did he just call Killia 'sweetheart'? Surely, the fever must have gotten higher. He shook his head and he immediately regretted what he just said.

"I knew he was gay!" Seraphina shouted half-angrily, half-victorious. How could a person be angry and victorious at the same time? It was a question that Christo never considered asking. But suddenly, he really wanted an answer. But first, he should clear the misconception.

"I'm not gay", he told them. Quietly. It was almost a whisper.

"You speak without confidence. I just found you out", Seraphina said, adding her usual Ohohoho-laugh at the end.

"I'm not gay!" Christo said now louder. It didn't help with his sore throat. He felt the fire burning. In his heart, too.

"If anything, I'm pan."

"Gay or pan, it's the same though", Seraphina told him.

"It's not the same, Seraphina." Killia told her. Surprised, she turned around and looked at him with her mouth open.

"And you consider yourself...?"

"Bisexual", Killia said with a bright smile.

Now, they were talking about sexual identity. Great. Christo really meant it. It was great that they didn't focus on his ill... He shook his head. He wouldn't even call it sickness for God's sake. He would go with "a little bit under the weather". Nothing several. Maybe, he should think about renaming it after his harsh coughing send him mercilessly down on his knees.

And the attention was back on him again.

He heard steps coming closer. Felt like a horror scene. Shadows were above him. The air was thick and it was hard to breath. He swallowed and it hurt. He clinged on his chest as the pain grew inside him. First, a little pounding, he could bare it, it's okay. Then, as the coughing started again, the pain was a cross over his chest, squeezing all the air out of him. Felt like monsters were laying their cold hands on him, suffocating him. He gasped for air. His breathing was out of rhythm, something between deep intakes and short outcomes. Almost like a panic attack. Was he panicking? He didn't know. Didn't want to know. The pain was the only thing he could focus on. And his breathing. He needed to calm himself down. Breathe in, breath out. Damn, why was something so simple so hard right now? Rattling. Didn't sound good. Should he sit up? Should he lay down? Was he able to move?

Questions overhelmed him. Unregular like his breathing. Uncontrollable. He was desperately trying to grab answers. Grabbed someone. Who was it? A demon? He would have laughed if he had had breath for it. He was safe. Maybe, he thought so. Safety didn't exist in the Netherworlds, did it? Why should he feel safe?

He pushed the hands aside with all the strength he could muster. His own hands reached for his bow and arrows. Could he make a hit in this condition? He wasn't sure. His finger trembled as he put them on the wooden grip. Sweat. He could taste it. Salty and bitter. He bit his tongue. The blood tasted like metal. Disgusting. He put the arrow between the arrow rest and shelf, then bend the strings. His fingers wouldn't stop shaking. Something awfully felt wrong.

The shadows stepped away from him. Scaried faces. Oh, he must be looking like a psychopath. His hair all messed up, his eyes red like blood, his pupils reduced to small points. Survival bonus. The tension of the string shook his body. He let go of it. Didn't saw what was hit. Just a sound similar to metal crashing. Then, everything went silent.

He smiled seemingly happy, then he crashed to the ground.

"Christo!"

Who was calling the angel's name?

It wasn't even his real name though.

"Christo..."

His name sounded funny. Was it a German word? 'Christ' maybe? Or did it come from the word 'Christmas'? He was born one day after the holy night. Coincidence, maybe?

"Christo!!"

Now, they were getting annoying. Voices calling out for a codename... Oh, wait, they didn't know it was one.

He was really dumb when being unconscious, wasn't he?

For the sake of not being called dumb, he opened his eyes, only to look into a burning light. He thought he was looking into the sun. Beautiful. Not really. It hurt.

He closed his eyes again, moaning. Maybe, rainy days were better days to get back to consciousness.

"Christo..." A quiet voice said.

"I wanna sleep", he replied, grabbing a pillow. He coughed softly into it. His throat still felt awful. Even more burning than before. He couldn't resist to the coughing urge, so he hid his face in the soft fabric, swearing to never let go of it. Somebody gently removed it from him.

"You need to keep your airways open" this someone said. It was Zeroken who put a worried glance on him.

"You really scared us, bro."

"I was so worried about you, plip!"

"Yeah, you made us super worried!"

"I'm glad you're awake." Killia said, even smiling a little.

"But you didn't need to attack us so suddenly, did you? Not that I was scared. I know how weak you are, ohohohoho!"

Christo looked up at them and met everyone's glances. Behind their kind faces worries lied. He couldn't even imagine how they felt right now. Maybe better than him. Maybe worse than him.

Maybe, they felt the same.

There was a call. From his superior. He didn't care for answering. Not now. He was feeling weak. Weaker than before. But somehow... Cooler.

He felt a cold towel on his forehead. Refreshing. He calmed down a little, he even relaxed. His thoughts were still a mess. He couldn't figure out where he was.

The underground was soft. A mattress? And there was a blanket... Though, he wasn't under it. He wished he did. He was shivering. Was it winter? Was there even weather in the Netherworlds?

No, he guessed no, Celestia hadn't snow either.

"Shhh, you are in the hospital" Killia explained while stroking through Christo's hair. It was a simple act, but it was good enough to calm the angel down.

"H-Hospital?" Christo asked weakly. He seemed to not know what it was. Something off the place. He shouldn't be here. He wasn't sick.

Coughing.

Maybe a little.

Harsh coughing.

Okay, he was really feeling down and ill and he had never felt that horrible in his entire eternity life.

His coughing eased a little. He put a hand on his chest in hope of finding the pain and rib it out. Then, he wouldn't need to feel it anymore.

This pain... It was cross-shaped. Though, he didn't know why he thought so. Just felt like it.

Someone put his hand on his. It was Killia. A warm touch. A wonderful feeling. If he hadn't been that sick, he might have smiled about it.

"Tell me what happened", Christo begged. He couldn't live with his ignorance.

"You attacked us, but you didn't hurt us", Killia told him.

"The healer said you had a high fever" Zeroken added.

"But a really really high one! Like... 41°C or more, plip!"

"A dangerous temperature for angels." Seraphina added. Her voice unusually cold.

"This was needlessly added" Christo said, "Cause I am not an angel!"

He coughed. Then, he coughed again. Suddenly, he remembered his lucky word.

Confession

Why was it so big in his head? The word felt out of place. It didn't sum up the story. Maybe he should just go over with it.

He opened his mouth, but he closed it in an instant. He didn't feel ready to tell them.

In truth, he never wanted to confess.

Especially not when all forces of the world were against him.

This couldn't be one of his lucky days. He knew it.

And when all of his friends were looking at him, troubled, worried, maybe even scaried, he couldn't tell them.

He looked away, breaking with all of their glances. He felt the rush of the fever. An energy draining and pushing at the same time.

He opened his mouth again. This time, words came out.

"I need to tell you something", he said.

"I'm actually... You see, I'm actually... An..."

"Sick, you wanna say?"

Killia was really a blessing. Christo just nodded.

It seemed like the confession took a little bit of his burden.

And soon, he would recover...

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sherlollydramoine · 4 years

Text

Playing Pretend

This was requested by @aulile

Rami pretends to hate you, but he’s actually in love with you. Here you go, I hope this is exactly what you had in mind when you sent me the request darling.

Warnings: alcohol use, sex implied

Word count: 2809

“God he fucking hates me! I swear, I walk into the room and all he does is glare at me! What the fuck did I even do to him? I’ve been nothing but professional. I swear Chels, I have no fucking clue how I’m going to get through the rest of filming with that asshole.” you ranted, out loud to your wonderful assistant Chelsea.

You had been cast as the love interest in a rom-com with none other than Rami Malek as the leading man. You’d heard nothing but great things about him from some of your peers, and was really looking forward to working with him. You didn’t really know each other, though you’d met several times very briefly at different industry events over the years.

“I don’t think he really hates you YN, I really don’t. You don’t see how he looks at you when you aren’t looking.” Chelsea responded.

“Well I do see how he looks at me when he is near me. He always looks like he swallowed something bitter, or he just looks angry. I just can’t make sense of any of this. He’s been so kind to me when we’ve met before all of this.”

“I don’t know either, but maybe I can text his assistant to find out what’s up.”

“You know what, do it, or I will drive myself insane with this shit.”

There was a sudden knock on your trailer door, and you answered it to find a delivery man holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You signed for them, and then took them and placed them on the table. Leaving the door open,as your trailer was getting way to stuffy.

“Chels, that’s the third time this week, but the card never says anything. I wonder who keeps sending me these flowers because I am started to get worried that I have a stalker.”

This time when you went to look for the card you in it’s place a standard sized envelope instead. The envelope and paper were definitely of a high quality stationary, and this time there was a message that was handwritten directly in the center of the paper.

You started to pace, but ending up stopping directly in front of your open door as you begin to read the note out loud.

“I love you. I am who I am because of you. You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I’ve ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, every day we are together is the greatest day of my life. I will always love you.”

You gasp, because you recognize the quote. It was from one of your favorite books, a book you��ve read a million times, though it wasn’t a classic by any means; you were a sucker for Nicholas Sparks novels, and this quote was directly from The Notebook.

Your hands start shaking and you nearly drop the paper in your hands.

“Chels, this was so beautiful, but who? Who keeps sending me the flowers? I don’t recognize the handwriting as anyone I know. I just, I wish this person would reveal themselves to me. Because they’ve been sending me flowers for weeks now and I’m starting to think I have a stalker.”

What you failed to notice was that Rami was standing outside of his trailer, which was directly next to yours leaning against it having a smoke, wearing a dopey smile. He was close enough that he heard the conversation and he’s pretty sure who knows your secret admirer is.

“I don’t know, I am quite curious myself.”

“Have you heard anything back from Rami’s assistant?”

“No. She’s not responding to me, it says the ‘read’ but there has been no reply.”

After a few more minutes, the A.D. was summoning you back to set where you were going to have to deal with him. The hair and makeup people rushed you, to fix any wayward hairs and to touch up some makeup, and just like that you were back to work.

A few more days had passed, working tirelessly and some days what felt like endlessly because there is at least one thing you and Rami had in common, and that is perfection. You would both perform a scene as many times as it took for both of you to feel completely satisfied that it was done to the best of both of your abilities.

It was at the end of such a long day and all you wanted was to go home and sleep when you heard a knock on your door. Chelsea had left earlier to deal with a family emergency, so you answered yourself, wearing nothing but your robe since you had just taken a quick shower.

You almost slammed the door shut when you realized it was Rami on the other side of it.

“Wait!” he hollered, before looking around to make sure no one had heard him.

“What do you want Rami?”

You take in his appearance, his hair is wet because he too obviously has showered and he’s wearing black dress pants, a patterned button down shirt, and black shiny boots.

“I just thought that.. well ..maybe.. Maybe you’d like to have a drink with me tonight?” he asked, as his hand came up to nervously scratch the back of his head.

“Why? I didn’t think you even liked me. I mean you are fine when the cameras are on, but I gotta say dude, you’re kind of a prick to me when the cameras aren’t rolling.” you complained, arms folded across your chest.

“Look I’m sorry. I just, if you come out with me tonight... I’ll tell you who your secret admirer is.” he said, looking hopeful.

“You know about that? How?” you question, quirking a brow.

“You know it’s a small set, people talk.You get flowers delivered every day now.” he shrugged, while smiling at you conspiratorially.

“Fine, I’ll take the bait, but you better not be lying. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed. Where did you have in mind?”

“My place. I promise no ill intentions, though we can go somewhere else if you prefer. Or some other place that you find to be neutral territory.”

“Yours is fine, I honestly don’t feel like being seen out and about right now.”

You take your time getting dressed tonight, debating between your favorite well loved jeans or your favorite well loved sundress. Opting for your sun dress and strappy sandals just in case you end up changing your mind and going some place else; stepping in your small bathroom to swipe on some mascara and lip gloss. Tossing your phone into your purse and heading out the door you find Rami leaning against the side of your trailer.

“You certainly took your time.” he complained, while his eyes raked over your body taking in your appearance.

“Why are you complaining? You wanted to do this, and I just wanted to make sure that I looked somewhat put together in case we change our minds and end up going somewhere else.”

There was nothing but awkward silence as you walked across the lot to where your cars were parked.

“Should I follow you?” you asked, unsure of where to proceed with this.

“You could just ride with me and I can call someone later to take you home. That’s if you want to. No pressure.” he assured.

“Fuck it, I’ll ride with you, I’m too tired to drive anyway. Today’s scenes took a lot of me emotionally.”

“I hear you, but this is going to be great. What attracted to you this script?” he gently asked, sounding genuinely curious as to your motivations for taking this project.

He started the car and before you knew it, you were on the freeway headed to his house.

“The writing and the fact that this isn’t just the same ole, same ole rom-com bullshit. The characters have depth and I think the audience is going to be surprised by the way this one turns out. This story is absolutely brilliant, the characters are unpredictable, and so is the story. Sure there is the romance and comedy element of this but it’s not the same shit different movie that most rom-com’s seem to be. I feel incredibly lucky to have been chosen for this role. I seriously thought that I completely bombed the audition.” you laughed out loud,

You were genuinely happy with that the opportunity to audition for this movie. It was a huge project and working with Rami really has been a dream come true.

“I thought you nailed your audition by the way. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I insisted after you left that we not see anyone else. We’ve been there and we both know how it sucks when that happens, but I was absolutely insistant that it be you cast. You just brought something to your character that I hadn’t seen anyone else bring. Every other actress brought the same thing to the table, and they just made eyes at me the whole time. You, you remained in character and played her so well. I had heard from others how dedicated you are to your work, and how thorough. You think so similarly to me and you also chase perfection like I do. You won’t stop until it’s perfect. I think we drive everyone crazy, but they can’t say that this movie won’t be extraordinary when it’s finished.”

You just looked at him wearing a shocked expression. You had no clue that Rami had been responsible for your casting.

“Wow.” was all you managed to say.

“Wow, is right. You were incredible and I wouldn’t have wanted to work with anyone else but you on this project. The casting people were originally looking at more high profile actresses, but I had suggested to the director that we bring you in. I’m not going to lie here, I’ve wanted to work with you for ages. Watching your performance in The Monster Is Me, it blew me away. You played Gemma so well, and I could relate to her in a way having played Elliot. You really dove deep into the research on D.I.D. for her, and you just.. You made me feel her suffering, confusion, and ever bit of the pain.”

“Jesus. I didn’t realize that you were a fan of that movie. I mean so few people were, I truly believed hardly anyone had seen it.”

“I did. I went with a good friend of mine to see it and both of us were absolutely stunned into speechlessness at the performance you gave.”

“I… thank you.. You really Rami thank you. That actually means a lot coming from you. I don’t think you have any idea how much your characterization and portrayal of Elliot is what actually motivated me to take this role. You gave the best performance on television with Elliot.”

He laughed out loud this time and it nearly startled you.

“Listen to us, sounding like a couple of nerds; fangirling and fanboying over each other’s work. I wonder if people outside of the industry would say if they could hear this conversation?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I guess we both have some amazing performances under our belts and it’s okay to talk about. Trying to have conversations like this with non-industry people always feels like bragging.”

“Yeah it does.”

You were actually truly surprised at how easy conversation was with him. I mean granted you’d mostly only talked about work but your mind never let you forget that he promised to tell you the one thing you’ve been dying to know.

“Welp little darlin’ we’re here.” he says, and you realize that the car had come to a complete stop.

You suddenly felt nervous and you’ve no clue as to why. Following his lead and heading into his house, which was surprisingly modest, and directly into his kitchen.

“So? What would you like to drink? I’ve several options.”

“Same as you. I like surprises.”

He raised a brow and flashed you a toothy grin. “Tequila it is!”

“Ooooh. I love tequila!” you almost shouted. He jumped in surprise and nearly dropped the bottle in his hand.

“Jesus, YN, you startled me.”

“I noticed and I’m sorry.” you giggled.

He fixed your drinks and then led you to his living room. Where you took a seat on the sofa as he hands you the drink.

“So.. “ he begins, but stops when you seem to become distracted with something. Him slowly taking sips of his drink, obviously waiting for something.

That’s when you looked over on his coffee table and you see it. Familiar looking paper. Confusion very evident on your face as you look back at him, the paper, and him again.

“Rami?” you ask, holding the sheet of the stationary, staring at him.

“YN?” he counters. The expression on his face almost unreadable, and it almost made you want to burst into tears. You were so confused, and all you wanted was answers.

“Rami?” you ask again, now out of curiosity and possibly shock. You hold out the paper when you notice the familiar scrawl, ‘One word from you shall silence me forever’ is what was written.

You dropped the paper and just like last time almost burst into tears. He had quoted Pride and Prejudice this time, your absolute favorite book of all time. Not only had he quoted the book, but he had chosen one of the best lines that Mr. Darcy had in the entirety of the book. You were unaware that he even knew this about you but thinking back, you’d actually been reading that book your first day on set during a break.

You look back up at him, eyes glistening, “What is it that you are inquiring about? That my one word could silence you from?”

He cleared his throat and reached out to cup your cheek.

“I love you. Have been in love with you since the day we first met, and I know we don’t know each other well but..” he hesitated. “Will you be my girlfriend? I know this seems kind of a weird way to do this but yes, it’s been me this whole time, I am your secret admirer. Your assistant Chelsea has been most helpful in trying to pull this off.”

“Rami I’m…. I thought you fucking hated me. I seriously, I… yes. Yes I’ll be your girlfriend. I thought I was the only that felt a connection during the audition process, and every part of the process that followed. And also, Chelsea’s dead meat, maybe she should replace me because she is one hell of an actress.”

You move closer to him, and your lips meet for a heated kiss. One deeper and more passionate than your characters have ever shared on screen, and that’s saying a lot considering that you have three sex scenes in the movie.

Before you know it your bodies were headed towards his bedroom, shedding clothing along the way.

You only wake up because of an alarm blaring, and you crack an eye open.

“Good morning princess. We have early call times today though I was hoping that you could sleep through my alarm, so that I could make us some coffee before we have to go in. “

“It’s alright, I am a fairly light sleeper.”

“Soooo…..don’t kill Chelsea this morning. I already texted her and told her that the plan worked and you are with me, so she is going to meet you at work in an hour. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that we can beat traffic.”

You almost laugh out loud as you remember that your assistant had been in on this the whole time. You sit up and lean over to give your boyfriend a chaste kiss, which unfortunately turned not so chaste very quickly. Pulling away much to your chagrin, you go in search of your clothes but stop in the doorway.

“Good thing we had some practice last night eh? Since we’ve got sex scene one of three to film today.”

“Oh yes, it’s going to be so sexy. A room that’s hot as hell with about a hundred people watching. Though it would amazing if we actually did have sex on camera. People would be talking about it forever, and it would be immortalized on film.” he teased.

“Rami no!!” you hollered while pulling your dress over your head. “It would be hot though. But do we have the stamina to do that all day?’

“Hahaha, we could save time and just do it reallllllly good the first time.” he smirks.

You can’t help the laughter as you playfully punch his arm.

“Maybe, Rami, maybe.”

@xmxisxforxmaybe @txmel @itsme690 @mrhoemazzello @ramimedley @hazeleyedbeth @lablanchett @free-rami @r-ahh-mi

#Rami Malek #Rami Malek Fluff #Rami Malek Imagine #Rami Malek Blurb

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blossommarvelmuses · 4 years

Note

"i don't want to fall asleep without you."

It’s been a long time since Steve Rogers was sick. Though ever since Steve had given up ‘Captain America’ for Natasha, he had been returned back to his sickly and frail state. While the illnesses have no longer threat of killing Steve, that doesn’t mean they’re any easier to deal with. This is the fourth time just today that Bucky had headed into the drug store to get anything to soothe Steve’s terrible cough and aching body. This whole new age of medicine thing is new to them both. So Bucky makes his way slowly down the aisle for ‘cold’ and ‘flu’, picking up each bottle of liquid and pill pack and reading the back of the packets. They all seem to have such big bold claims and Bucky feels a little lost as he shoves another rattling bottle onto the shelf. The poor woman at the pharmacy had seen Bucky so many times today and it seems that she’s finally felt remorse for his confused state and made her way over. “Can I help you find something?” She asks gently. While Bucky would love to shoo her away, tell her he’s fine.. he’s beyond confused. He crinkles his nose a bit before sighing and giving her a slow nod. “Friend of mine’s got a cough and body aches. – ‘m sure he’s got a fever too.” She smiles softly at him and searches the self for a few things before pulling out two bottles of liquid for him. “It sounds just like a cold, here’s something for daytime and nighttime.” It’s a relief to finally have something that can soothe Steve’s ailments. “Thank you.” He tells the woman and she summons him to follow her so he can check out and not visit this damn store again.

Getting Steve to actually take the medication is another damn hassle in it’s own. He’s a stubborn bastard who’s survived colds before, claiming he doesn’t need the medication to help. Though Bucky figures after 80 years of not being ill, it doesn’t matter if he’s survived it before this or not – it can’t be enjoyable. “Do not make me force this down your throat, Rogers.” He grunts as he shoves the cup full of dark liquid towards the smaller male. “If you take this you won’t be sick for two weeks like you used to be.” The other seems to weigh his options for a moment and Bucky holds his breath in hopes that Steve finally fucking thinks this through. “Come on, Stevie.” His voice is bordering on desperation, he can’t help but feel that familiar worry pull in his stomach. There were so many times that there was nothing that Bucky could do to help, he was forced to sit and watch as Steve suffered. Now that there was something he could do to help? He wasn’t going to sit quietly anymore. A grunted ‘fine’ is given in return and Bucky feels his shoulders finally relax. He kneels down on the edge of the bed to hand over the little cup to Steve, watching as the other begrudgingly swallows the whole cup down. His face squishes up in displeasure and the bigger male can’t help but chuckle. “You deserve that after being a stubborn bastard.” He teases the other as he helps Steve settled back into bed. Bucky is careful to not actually touch the male, still being overly cautious around the other’s returned small frame. But he helps get the blankets situated and Steve returns to idly watching television.

“I’ve got a few files to finish up reading, don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” He gets a snort in return as Bucky slips out of the room. It’s odd to not be in the room with Steve while he’s ill – there was a time that you couldn’t peel Bucky from Steve’s side when he was sick. But times are different, Bucky as actual work to do and Steve isn’t going to die at a moments notice.. he also knows if he was in the room with Steve he’d spend more time just staring than doing actual work. So it’s best for him right now to finish up the few things he has to do for SHIELD before spending the rest of the evening just gazing at his best friend while he coughs a lung up.

Bucky gets so lost in his work he doesn’t realize it’s nearly midnight and a violent cough from down the hall has Bucky abandoning all of that at moments notice. The bigger male slips into the other’s bedroom and is greeted with a hand outstretched in a way to keep him at bay until Steve’s tiny frame is gasping for air after the last cough. “Never thought I’d hear that noise comin’ from your body again.” He tries and earns a bit of a halfhearted glare from Steve. He ignores it in favor of pouring another small cup of the medicine which Bucky knows he’s allowed to take again since he read the directions one hundred times to make sure he wouldn’t kill his friend. This time it’s taken with little to no argument, so Bucky knows that Steve must feel much more terrible now that he did earlier. Once again, he’s kneeling on the bed to return the covers to their rightful place over Steve’s body. “Try to get some sleep, alright?” Moving to click the tv off, he’s making his leave to see if he can attempt to get some sleep of his own.

However this time is different than earlier, a gentle hand catches his metal one as he turns to leave. Bucky feels a mix of emotions, his strongest one is to yank the metal hand away – not let Steve touch such harsh curves and rough edges. He thinks Steve deserves better than that, someone who is just as gentle as he is. Though his other emotions just want him to melt, collapse to his knees and rest his hand in Steve’s for the rest of time. As Bucky turns to look over his shoulder, those big dumb blue eyes seem to bore right into his soul. “I don’t want to fall asleep without you.“ The words are spoken barely above a whisper and Bucky feels like his heart is being pulled out of his throat. How the hell is supposed to say no to that? Any excuse he could even begin to think of has strayed for far from his mind, his mind is just filled with Steve, Steve, Steve. Now nothing else matters in this moment expect the way Steve is tugging on his arm. It’s clear as day that Steve Rogers will always and forever be his weak spot.

Unlike all those years ago, when Bucky climbed into bed with Steve, there is plenty of room for both of them. Yet the smaller male doesn’t move an inch, so he has to slip in close next to Steve who’s now turning his back against him so that Bucky can fit perfectly along his back. He feels the other’s small frame rumble against his chest as he coughs and Bucky remembers something from their childhood that always soothed Steve. He snakes his flesh arm and hand over Steve’s side and the palm of his hand rests over the other’s chest. He presses gently against the male’s chest before rubbing in slow circles. The motions earn him a pleased groan that sends chills right down his spine. “Try to get some sleep you stubborn bastard.” He tells him, the words grumbled into Steve’s shoulder.

#missamericanawrites #meme: bucky #otp: so you were never a saint and i loved in shades of wrong (bucky and steve)

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ilovetowritei · 5 years

Text

Part 1 - The Flowers

I don’t really know how posting on here works. I wrote this this morning, and I am writing the second part now.

I guess a warning for mention of depression, medication and mental illness.

I love Grizz and Sam on the Society. I think their dynamic is beautiful, and Sean Berdy and Jack Mulhern do an amazing job bringing their characters to life. I also find it highly improbable that Harry is the only one that suffers depression given their situation.

*******************

Grizz had been tending the flowers.

For six months, without help or prompting, he had been weeding and watering, pruning and coaxing the delicate little buds to life. He wasn’t really sure why he did it - it just felt like something that needed doing. The flowers might not serve a useful purpose, but they served an emotional one. They were beautiful, and a part of Grizz knew that that was enough.

He’d been back from the expedition two weeks. The shock of Allie’s blood sliding down her face still hit him every time he walked into town. His friend, the only person who had been able to step up and face the reality of this new place. He’d grown to see her as fierce, but in that moment, her pale face beneath a black beanie, she was vulnerable, a seventeen year old girl afraid of the school bullies.

Except now, they weren’t just ruling the school hallways. Lexie and Harry ruled the town, decided who did what and when. They decided, quite literally, who would live, and who would die. Grizz had moved back into his family home, isolated on the outskirts of town. He’d spent his time cleaning up his home, drawing maps to the land and mostly, trying to work out how they were going to survive.

But today was different. Something was tugging at his heart. The pain of loss was bubbling up inside him, threatening to overflow as it had been since the buses had dropped them here. So he walked to the one place he could think of where life was beautiful and simple. He walked to the gardens out behind the library, where his flowers grew.

Caught up in his thoughts, Grizz didn’t hear the heavy breaths coming from beneath the shade cloths. He didn’t notice the footprints pressed into the muddy ground. He pulled each peg from the cloth carefully and then threw the cloth back.

“Sam?! What the fuck?” Beneath the shade cloth, Sam was lying in the flower garden. Frozen weeds and dying buds were spread out beneath him. The boy looked up.

It was this look that showed Grizz that something was wrong. The last time he had seen Sam, his blue eyes had been clear, tears leaking silently from their corners. Now, lying in the garden bed, Sam’s eyes registered Grizz without comment, settling on Grizz for a moment before turning their stormy gaze back up to the clouds. No tears, but no light either.

“Sam? What are you doing?” Grizz tried again. He wasn’t looking, couldn’t read the words tumbling from his lips. Grizz felt every ounce of anger and hurt seep from his body as he nudged Sam gently. He leant over him slightly and signed.

Sam. What are you doing? The words still felt clumsy in his hands. Still, Sam registered them. His own hands rose from where they rested on his stomach, drawing pictures in the sky that Grizz couldn’t catch.

Slow down.

Sam looked at him properly for the first time. Grizz felt his eyes boring into his chest, measuring his worth. I don’t want to be here anymore.

For a moment, Grizz stood confused. “Then hop up. Go home.” But even as he spoke, a part of his heart started to shatter.

On this Earth. Living. Sam spoke the last word quietly as he signed it. Grizz’s hands went to his head, raking through his hair. Even before, Sam had always been full of life. A strong steady present in the back of the room, signing his sass to Becca and offering up sardonic grins whenever he made eye contact. Those grins had squeezed the air from Grizz’s lungs. They’d been his first indication that this was a boy he should stay away from, someone that could actually make him feel something.

This wasn’t the same boy in front of him. Sam’s body was long and thin, his hands and face pale against the rich soil. He was shivering, and Grizz noticed that there were new angles to his body. Angles that hadn’t been there… He shoved the thought from his head.

Why? Grizz was glad that his hands couldn’t betray his heart the way a crack in his voice surely would have. Tears had started to slide down Sam’s face and finally Grizz broke, reaching out to wipe them from his face. He pulled Sam up into a sitting positioning knelt down.

Why? His hands shook.

“I don’t know what to do. Allie is gone. Campbell is in charge. He’ll ruin everyone. It’s not just my life he can fuck with anymore. It’s everyones. I don’t know what I’m doing. He won’t let me go home. Won’t let me get any of my things, or any photos of us and mum and dad. He won’t even let me get my tablets.” Sam gulped.

“Tablets?”

“Medication.” Sam’s voice was soft. Grizz’s heart plummeted.

“He’s stopping you from getting your medication? For how long now?! This whole time?!” Grizz’s voice rose with anger. Sam swallowed.

“I weaned myself off of them at the start. I figured that I couldn’t keep relying on them. But it’s creeping back. I can feel it, under my skin.” Sam looked up at Grizz in desperation. He couldn’t take it any longer. Grizz reached out and took his face in his hands.

“Sam. What’s the medication for?”

D-E-P-R-E-S-S-I-O-N Sam finger spelled the word slowly, trying to convince himself that this wasn’t some dirty secret. He’d never expressly hid it. It just wasn’t something people knew, particularly when you couldn’t communicate with them. Becca knew, had been supportive in his rough patches. But here in this new world, he didn’t know how to reach out to her. Didn’t know how to explain that despite everything changing, the sluggish feeling creeping through his veins was back.

Grizz looked at him intently for a moment. He hadn’t seen Sam properly since the goodbye. Around town he had looked hurried and tired, a sight Grizz had attributed to life with Eden. He hadn’t seen the pain in Sams gaze, the mindless working of his fingers when his brain was working overtime. He pulled Sam forward into his arms.

“I came to look at the flowers. After we got dropped here. I would come and look and they gave me hope. But then they started dying. And it felt like all the hope was gone. You were gone.” Sam’s voice cracked as he broke into sobs, body shivering against Grizz. He was wearing only a button down and jeans. Grizz shrugged out of his puffer jacket, wrapping it around Sam’s frame. A part of him smiled at the image - Sam wrapped in something of Grizz’s, swallowed by the size and warmth. An image he had dreamed of in their other lives.

You liked the flowers?

Yes. Sam watched Grizz warily.

“A garden and a library.” Grizz murmured. Two places of beauty.

“Cicero.” Grizz looked at Sam in surprise, shocked that he had remembered.

“Yeah.” Grizz watched him for a moment. “Eden right? That’s the baby’s name?”

Sam looked down at the mention of his family. Becca had noticed his slide in the last few days, settling into a routine with the baby allowing her to finally see the pain building in her friends soul. Last night he had told her, about Grizz and thanksgiving, about Grizz’s pain and the way he had left. Becca had cried with him. And then flicked his ear.

“Sam. You’re an asshole.” Sam looked at her in fear. “Why didn’t you just tell me? We could have worked this out. I wouldn’t have told everyone you were her dad-”

“NO!” Sam yelled, standing abruptly. “I am her dad. She’s mine!” Becca looked at him in shock. His face was red, tears and snot dribbling down it.

“That’s not what I meant. Of course you’re her dad. From the moment you held her, you were her dad.” She looked at him, pleading for him to understand. This was their family. She loved him, so much so that she wanted him to be happy even if it meant braving the ridicule she knew would come when people found out who the father really was. “I just want you to be happy. Tell him. Tell him and tell him if he tells anyone else I’ll kill him.” Tears streamed down her face.

“I am her father.” Sam was nothing if not stubborn. His heart was full of love for this baby.

“And you always will be. But you will also always be gay. We can’t hide that from her, or from anyone else. So tell him. You’ll always be her dad. But he deserves to know. Because one day, she will know too.” Sam looked at her and felt his heart continue to break.

“Yes. Eden.”

Beautiful.

“Grizz…” Sam wasn’t sure what to do. How to say what he wanted, needed to say.

“I get it. They’re your family.” Grizz stood, heart shattering as he wiped his nose against his sleeve. Sam was a good guy. Which meant family had to come first. “Look, I’ll find a way to get you some of that medication okay? If things are getting bad, better you have it and we work out a solution from there.” He stood and turned to walk away.

Some flowers weren’t his to tend. Sam would never, could never be his.

#the society #grizzam #angst #grizz the society #sam eliot #becca the society #fanfic #part 1/?#it gets better #i promise

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i-am-too-sick · 5 years

Text

A Fateful Encounter

@nerdlycharming and I have a separate canonverse where my Quinn and his OC Michael are dating in college. We had never talked about how the two of them met, so we decided to brainstorm and came up with this. We hope you enjoy!

Word count: ~6400

Quinn closed his eyes to give the words a moment to stop swimming across the page. He'd heard stories of freshers flu before, but he hadn't really thought anything of it until he found himself completely blindsided by it. Now, he huddled over himself for warmth, wracked by shivering chills that seemed to zap the heat from his body, regardless of the number of blankets or layers of clothing he wore. His body ached something fierce and he spent most of his waking moments blowing his nose or trying to keep his lungs from leaping out his throat.

Despite how awful he felt, he left his campus dorm anyway, desperate to leave behind the roommate that was threatening to drive him mad. Quinn was half convinced he was a drug dealer and that the shady people who visited from time to time were his customers. He kept odd hours, and during the time that Quinn tried to sleep, his roommate banged loudly around the building, playing the drums or having raucous, drunken parties in the hallway.

At least the library was quiet, Quinn thought, opening his eyes and giving a liquid sniffle. Between the sneezing and the coughing that threatened to turn into gagging, Quinn had already chased away the other students who'd been sitting at his table. He didn't blame them, and it gave him the opportunity to spread his belongings across the table, though now he was fighting the urge to lay his head on his backpack and take a nap. He wasn't making any headway in his studying anymore, and his head was absolutely pounding. He felt like garbage, but he refused to go back to his dorm. He'd already been at the library for hours, and it felt like the only thing he'd accomplished was feeling progressively worse. Coughing chestily into the crook of his elbow, he flipped the page in his textbook and tried again to make sense of the content, fully resigned to his fate.

Michael, a rather shy boy that worked at the library, noticed Quinn coming in, smiling and waving at him when he did. He always did. He hoped the other boy would think he was just friendly instead of the real reason behind his friendliness. Michael thought the studious boy he saw so frequently, was very cute!

Today though, the brunette didn't wave back, he just sulked over to his usual spot and flopped down into a chair. Michael frowned, feeling anxious, thinking maybe he'd done something wrong. As the night dragged on, though, he was becoming more and more worried about the cute stranger with all his coughing and sneezing. Finally he could take it no more and he cautiously walked up to him with a cup of tea (something they sold there for about $0.50 at the counter) and a box of tissues.

With him being so sick, Quinn’s senses were completely dulled. It took him a moment longer than it should have to realize someone was talking to him. He looked up blearily at the stranger—someone who seemed vaguely familiar to him, but possibly because Quinn had seen him around campus. It was hard to trust his own thoughts with his head as muddled as it was.

Before he had a chance to question the stranger’s intentions, or ask him where he got that steaming cup of whatever it was, because Quinn was certain the drink could warm him from the inside while the steam cleared away some of his congestion, he was caught off guard by a fierce tickle in his sinuses. He released two sneezes in quick succession, one nearly stifled while the other was powerful and loud and made his head spin.

“I’b sorry,” he muttered congestedly, reaching without thinking for the tissues and noisily blowing his nose.

Michael had winced at the loudness of the boy’s actions, but more out of sympathy than anything else. “Bless you!” He said at once. “No need to apologise, but...maybe you could be resting?” He suggested politely, worry seeping into his voice.

“I’b okay,” Quinn said, depositing his used tissue into the front pocket of his coat. It was nearly overflowing as it was, the travel pack of tissues he'd brought along with him quickly used up in the time he'd been trying to study.

He knew he sounded anything but fine, probably looked it too, but he also didn't want to unload all his troubles on someone he didn't even know. It was also silly to admit that, only after the first couple of weeks into the semester, Quinn didn't get along with his roommate, and was thus left to attempt to be productive in his studies and ride out his illness in the library.

The bespectacled stranger readjusted his glasses with a small frown. “Must be an important test then?” He inquired, gesturing to Quinn's messy workspace. Michael took a seat across from him, too worried now about the cute stranger to simply go back to work. He only had an hour left anyway and he was sure his boss wouldn't mind.

“You seem...motivated.” He didn't want to say he didn't, he was clearly determined at least. It was obvious too, though, that Michael didn't truly believe that.

Quinn nodded. His eyes were bleary and it looked like it had been a long time since he'd truly been able to focus them on what he was reading. “I wad’t to get id the ndursing program. Ugh, excuse mbe…”

Grabbing a wad of tissues from the box, Quinn pressed them to his nose and blew hard. He hoped to lessen some of the congestion from his voice so he could at least be understandable, but the paper irritated his nose and he ducked his head into his elbow to bury another sneeze. The stifle sent a wave of dizziness over him, forcing him to close his eyes and inhale deeply to regain his bearings.

“A-are you sure you're alright?” Michael cleared his throat and continued, “forgive me for saying so, you really don't look well and surely a future nursing student would know he's unwell?” He asked, wondering why the wouldn't just go home? He looked like he could barely keep his head up.

Quinn propped his cheek up with his hand. “My roommate and I don't always see eye-to-eye,” he said, surprising himself with how much better he could articulate. “I could probably get more sleep laying out on a bench in the middle of the quad.”

Suddenly feeling tired, he let out a bone-weary sigh, his breath catching in his throat and causing him to cough. He tilted his chin toward the untouched cup of hot tea in the other’s hands. “Any idea where I can get me one of those? I'm craving something warm.”

Michael looked down at his hands, seeming a bit surprised. “Oh! I got it for you! I thought your throat might hurt because of the coughing,” he explained as he handed it over to him. He blushed now, thinking maybe that sounded dumb. “I uh…” He felt awkward, unsure if he should get up and stop bothering him now. “I'm sorry about your roommate, mine dropped out.”

He couldn't handle feeling this awkward though so he stood up. “But I uh, I guess I should let you get back to work if you don't wanna go home, I just wanted to give you the tea and tissues…” He tucked some of his slightly messy hair behind his ears and tired to leave.

“You don't have to,” Quinn said. He was distracted by the warmth he could feel leaking into his fingertips from the paper cup. He hadn't realized how hard he'd been shivering until he held something warm in his hands. “I mean, you can if you want, but I wouldn't mind if you stayed.”

For the first time, Quinn looked up at the stranger and smiled. It was a small, tired smile, but he hoped it got his point across. Quinn hadn't made a single friend since the semester started, and it was nice to have someone to talk to, even if he was sure he wasn't very good company himself right now. He didn't like to admit it, but he was also feeling a little homesick. “I'm Quinn, by the way.”

To Quinn's relief, the other boy smiled and sat back down. “Michael. Nice to officially met you, Quinn.” He was blushing but he hoped Quinn wouldn't notice. “I see you in here all the time, you always seem very focused on your studies.”

Quinn sighed again. “There's only 120 spots in the nursing program, and there's about 700 of us trying to get in now.” He took a sip of tea, glad for the warmth, but wincing at how painful it was to swallow. “By the end of next semester, my GPA has to be pretty near perfect,” he explained. “I don't have time to be sick.”

Michael understood that, even if he wasn't under the same kind of pressure. He loved nurses, he owed them so much in his life. Having had cancer as a child, they always tried their best to help him and the other kids at the children's hospital feel better. Memories flooded around in his head and he smiled, chuckling at them before clearing his throat.

“That's a lot of pressure to put on yourself, you must really want to be a nurse? Or do you need that programme to get into medical school to be a doctor?” He asked. “In any case though, with all the studying you do, I'm sure your grades wouldn't suffer from a few days of rest?”

“I don't want to take that chance,” Quinn said, shaking his head. He'd always been a diligent student and had worked himself ragged before, but never while also being sick. This was a whole new monster—he'd never felt this exhausted before. “I don't want to end up falling behind.”

He coughed into another wad of crumpled up tissues, his cheeks reddening and his eyes watering at the strain. “I've wanted this for as long as I can remember.” He paused, clearing his throat. “My mom is an orthopedic surgeon and my brother basically spent his childhood in and out of the hospital. I guess you could say I come from a medical background. Getting into this program is important to me.” He felt like he was rambling, but the words kept pouring out of him, and if he wasn't so sick, maybe he'd feel guilty about unloading all his problems on someone he'd only just met.

Michael smiled at him, it was admirable indeed, even if he was perhaps pushing himself too hard. He considered mentioning his childhood but decided against it. He hated how people treated him after they found out. They always either treated him like he was fragile or like he was a walking miracle or something, so he bit his tongue.

“I can see why it's so important to you then.” Michael agreed, though he certainly still seemed worried and hesitant. “So, do you have a test coming up?” He could see how tired Quinn was and he wished he could do something for him. Before his roommate dropped out he hadn't gotten along with him either so he definitely understood the trouble with that. Still, Quinn definitely needed to be resting instead of studying -- which he clearly wasn't able to do much of as he kept zoning out and he was having trouble even focusing on Michael's face for more than a few seconds at a time.

Quinn shook his head. Talking to Michael had been a good distraction for a while, but he could feel himself fading fast. He was probably going to have to call it quits and head home soon. “Not until next month,” his replied, voice hoarse and weary. He sniffled, trying to stave off another sneeze. “I want to stay ahead…”

Michael adjusted his glasses, having to bite back the urge to lecture him. He didn't actually know him, especially not well enough to be allowed to criticise or anything. Still, he thought it was at least a good idea to urge him to go home and rest.

“I'm sorry, but do you realise how ridiculous that sounds?” He cringed, that had been far less subtle and smooth than he intended it to be. “Sorry, I just mean to say that you seem really unwell and you can hardly focus anyway. I know we don't know each other, not really, but you seem quite intelligent and you're certainly dedicated. If the test isn't for another month, then one night without studying so hard and resting instead would be just fine. If you don't rest, you'll just get worse!” He reasoned, scooting back in his seat again to leave. “Plus, if you're really that worried about it, I'll even help you study when you're better! I mean, look where I work?” He gestured around him with a smile. “But you gotta go home and rest or the deal is off!” He winked at him and stood again, clearly he wasn't going to give up this time.

Quinn blinked. He wasn't quite taken aback by Michael's declaration, but it seemed like he was speaking much too fast for Quinn's muddled brain to process. He composed himself quickly enough and flashed Michael another tired smile. “Thanks,” he said, beginning to collect his things and packing them away. Michael was right about one thing—his focus was definitely slipping, and Michael's voice sounded strange in his ears, though Quinn suspected that was merely because of the congestion. “I hadn't realized you worked here. I haven't been keeping you, have I?”

That earned a small chuckle from the other boy. “No no, I needed to straighten up back here anyway.” He assured him, helping him gather his things. “But yeah, I'll help you study when you feel better, just ask for me at the desk if you don't see me round.” He handed over the last of Quinn's books with a smile, he too had had a great deal of trouble making friends and he finally made one! He was almost certain.

“I guess I should get going now,” Quinn said, as though it wasn't already obvious that he was packing up to leave. “It's pretty late. Thanks for the tissues and the drink—oh, and for listening to me babble. Guess I'll be seeing you…”

He was met with a tidal wave of lightheadedness once he found his feet, and before he could do anything to remedy the feeling, his eyes rolled back and he exhaled softly, his body listing sideways.

Michael laughed quietly, “It's no trouble, re-” his sentence died immediately as he watched in slow motion as his new friend’s body went slack. He felt his own body move without his instruction -- in the blink of an eye he was holding Quinn in his arms, gently guiding them both down to the floor.

The heat coming off the pale boy in his arms was all at once incredible and frightening. He was unsure if he cried out before or not but now he looked around finding them to be alone still and him completely unsure of what to do. “Q-Quinn?” That's what he'd said, wasn't it? It was suddenly hard to think with panic now making his thoughts shake and fall away before he could even grab them. “Quinn? Please- Please, wake up!” He begged in a shaky voice.

Despite the presumably high fever, Quinn's body trembled fiercely in Michael's arms. His cheeks were painted a bright crimson and his breathing was ragged. Michael watched in silent horror as his eyelids gave the occasional flutter, but much to his dismay, Quinn remained unconscious.

He decided to pull out his phone and call his manager, not wanting to make a scene. He didn't want to take Quinn to the hospital, for one he couldn't drive, but he also didn't know if Quinn had insurance, or his last name for that matter. Just as his boss was walking over he decided what he would do.

His boss agreed with him and called a cab for them, helping Michael carry the semi-conscious young man out to the car once it had arrived.

Quinn wasn't totally out anymore but he wasn't really helpful either. Michael had tried to get his address from him or really information at all and had come up empty. He gave the driver his own address instead and sat back, anxiously holding Quinn upright in his arms. A total stranger. What would his mum say?

He looked at his sickly new friend and decided he didn't care what his parents would say about it. He couldn't just leave him to fend for himself and besides, he had a good feeling about Quinn.

“Just hang in there, you'll be okay, I promise.” Michael whispered to him.

Once they got to his dorm he paid the driver and gave a quick thanks before getting out, hoisting Quinn up, piggy-back style and slowly making his way into the building and to the elevator. It was a struggle the entire way and he still wasn't sure how he'd managed to unlock his front door but they made it!

He gently guided Quinn down onto his beat up couch and sighed, rubbing his shoulders as he stared at him. He wasn't terribly sure what he should do now but eventually he decided on the basics. He stripped Quinn of his coat and shoes, draping a light throw over him - an ultra fluffy Pokemon blanket his mother got him for Christmas a few years prior. He went for a cool cloth, bathing his skin before wetting it again and laying it on his brow. He grabbed a few items that they would need eventually, but all he could do now was make himself some tea, grab a book and wait. He knew he wouldn't be able to focus much, but he couldn't very well just stare at the poor guy.

Nearly half an hour since Michael had laid him on the couch, Quinn began to stir. He coughed weakly, his eyelids finally fluttering open. He tried to lift his head to have a look around, but it seemed he didn't have the strength even for that.

The feel of the couch beneath him confused him, as he and his roommate hardly had furniture aside from their own beds, and the blanket covering him now was unrecognizable. “Where…?” he murmured, too tired, it seemed, to even finish the question.

Michael, just finally having managed to get into his book, startled slightly. His head snapped in the direction of the sound immediately and had him rushing to his feet.

He smiled down at him, a casual but honest smile. “Hey, easy, don't try and get up or anything just yet.” He said as he took the cool rag and dipped it back into the bowl of water on the side table, replacing it after ringing it out a bit.

“You passed out in the library, I didn't know where you lived or what do really at all so I brought you to my dorm instead, I hope that's okay?” Michael seemed rather timid again, his anxiety shining through. Whatever progress they had made before was lost now. He seemed a bit shook up still over what had happened.

“C-can I get you anything? I c-can call someone if you need to, to come get you if you don't.. Don't want to stay…?” He seemed so unsure of himself, but at the same time he seemed earnest and kind.

Quinn missed more than half of Michael's explanation, but somehow, it was comforting just hearing his voice, even if Michael did sound absolutely terrified. He closed his eyes again and sighed, his breath rattling some in his chest and producing a short bout of coughs.

Shivering, he curled up with the blanket, pulling it up toward his chin. He mumbled something unintelligible, his words dying as he seemed to be falling asleep.

That was a good enough indication to Michael, that Quinn didn't mind his actions and perhaps didn't mind staying.

Michael decided after that interaction that he'd sit beside him on the floor and read until he woke up next. Hopefully he'd feel okay enough to actually have a conversation with him.

He couldn't stop thinking about the idea he'd had since Quinn first mentioned his roommate. He'd yet to mention his idea, or figure out how to bring it up, but it was there, swirling around in his mind forming into a proper plan.

Quinn slept long and hard, but mostly it was restless. His body cycled through chills and sweats, and on a few occasions, he even whimpered softly.

When he did finally open his eyes, he found himself alone in an unfamiliar place. He vaguely remembered someone speaking to him before, and he called out, the one name he recalled finding its way off the tip of his tongue. “Michael?” His voice was weak and tired, but he sounded much more coherent than he'd been before.

There was a stirring on the floor and soon a very tired looking Michael made his way into Quinn's line of sight. “Sorry, must have dozed off a bit.” He apologised with a yawn but smiled at him anyway. “You sound a bit better, coherent at least.” He teased with a light chuckle. “How are you feeling?” He asked, again wetting and replacing the rag.

He didn't know exactly what time it was and he also didn't know what, if anything Quinn had actually understood and retained from his earlier explanation, so he thought it could be repeated. “You're in my dorm, yeah? You couldn't answer before, but is there anyone you want me to call?” He asked, quickly adding in a panic, “I don't mind you staying of course! I just...I wanted you to be comfortable?”

Quinn's lips twitched in to what could have been a tiny semblance of a smile. “I'll stay, if that's all right,” he added. It wasn't really like he had anyone to call, and he was grateful for Michael's invitation. “What happened? I don't remember anything after the library…”

He seemed to have just realized that Michael had been asleep on the floor only moments ago. It had to be late, if not already early into the next morning, and he felt guilty for taking up so much of his new friend’s time. “Sorry. You can tell me later. You must be tired.”

To his surprise Michael just smiled more and went right on explaining. “My boss called a cab and we- he more or less carried you out to the car and I had him being us here.” He left out the part about the piggy-back ride, figuring he didn't need quite all the details just yet. “If you want, you can take my bed and I'll sleep on the couch.” He offered.

Quinn's eyes widened. “What? No, I couldn't do that. I've been enough trouble already.” He didn't mention that his body was so heavy and achy, he didn't think he could get up right now if he wanted to. “Go ahead and take the bed. I'll be fine out here. You deserve to rest after looking after me.” He didn't want to think about what would have happened if Michael never sat down with him at the table. Maybe he'd still be passed out in the back of the library.

He watched as Michael frowned slightly and shook his head. “Really, you're not a bother at all.” Michael assured. He began looking a bit shy though and added in a much quieter voice. “It's kinda nice to have some company actually, all things considered. See, I haven't had much luck making friends or anything yet. I didn't know college could feel so lonely…” He seemed to realise that he'd just spilled out some pretty personal information and looked embarrassed.

“Sorry uh...I must be tired, I'm rambling. Do you need anything before I turn in? I gotta shower still but I'm just the door on the left there,” he said as he pointed to his room, “and the bathroom is on the right.”

Quinn hummed some form of acknowledgement. He felt all right for now, all things considered, but that might only have been because he was finally able to get some much needed sleep. “Can I borrow another blanket? And maybe get something to drink?”

His voice was small, like maybe he worried Michael would tell him no. Quinn had a propensity for running terribly high fevers and had woken up to find himself in the hospital or sitting in lukewarm bath water on more than one occasion. Michael didn't know this, of course, and Quinn wanted to convince himself that one more blanket wasn't anymore risk than not taking medicine, which was also something he hadn't done since that morning.

Michael nodded with a smile, going off to grab an extra comforter from his closet and returned. He didn't give it to him, though, remembering the incredible heat from before.

“Uh...hold on, I think we should check your temperature first and have you take some medicine.” He said with a worried expression. “I don't want your fever to get as high as before, it felt like I could burn my skin on yours before.”

Quinn's arm had been outstretched to receive the blanket, but as Michael spoke, he lowered it slowly, clutching at the blanket he already had. He wrinkled his nose, frowning. He wasn't upset, and actually, taking his temperature was probably a good idea, but after everything Michael had told him, Quinn could only assume his temperature was going to read high. “Okay,” he relented.

Michael was looking around for the supplies before Quinn had even agreed, quickly finding the thermometer and awkwardly handing it to Quinn. He left Quinn's sight for a moment before returning with a glass of ice water.

Quinn found it endearing how shy and kind Michael was. He watched as Michael shook some Advil out of the bottle and set them down on the table.

“Well? What's the damage?” Michael asked with a wave of his hand, towards the thermometer.

A thought had crossed Quinn's mind when he'd first slipped the thermometer under his tongue, and for some reason, he couldn't get himself to stop thinking about it. At some point, this same thermometer had probably also been in Michael's mouth. The thought made Quinn blush, though he couldn't fathom why.

“What? Oh,” he stammered, Michael's voice pulling him out of his thoughts, “it's 101.9.”

“No wonder you felt so awful,” Michael reasoned, replacing the rag again. “That's pretty high for having a cool rag on your head as long as you have.” He seemed pretty worried, biting his nails with anxiety. “Maybe a light blanket is best? Oh!” He nearly dove for the Advil he'd set out. “Don't forget these!”

Quinn felt bad about making Michael worry like this, especially when Quinn barely seemed bothered about it at all. Of course, he'd lived with the knowledge his whole life, and right now, his fever wasn't yet high enough for anything drastic.

“It was probably higher before,” he reasoned, tiredly. He took the pills from Michael and swallowed them dry, wincing as they slid down his throat. “Guess this isn't just a cold then.”

“I'd have to agree with you there.” Michael said before taking the comforter away and returning with a large, thin blanket that he tossed over Quinn's body. “So, you've had medicine and you've got a new blanket…” he was so frazzled by the entire situation he couldn't think if anything else was needed. He felt maybe he should apologise for how awkward he was but he was too embarrassed by it.

“I think I'm all set for my sleepover on the couch,” Quinn said, offering Michael what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He felt bad about putting Michael out like this, especially when he was being this much trouble and they barely knew each other. “You should get some sleep. I'm sure you've had a long day, even before all this.” He gestured lazily at himself.

This earned a genuine smile from Michael, “I suppose it was, but it was good I think, anyway, g'night...and I'm round the corner if you need me at all!” Then he turned and headed into the bathroom, shower sounding out only a few moments later.

Even after having slept, Quinn was still exhausted, and the soothing sound of falling water from the other room pulled continuously at his eyelids until his lashes touched. He heaved a sigh, prepared to settle in for the night. The couch wasn't that comfortable, considering his back already ached, but he didn't mind. It was peaceful here, unlike his own dorm, and Michael was proving himself to be a much more agreeable roommate.

Quinn coughed, feeling the rattling in his chest. He had a sinking feeling he'd be like this all night, and he prayed it didn't cause Michael anymore inconveniences tonight.

Michael checked on Quinn one last time before going to bed himself, giving the rag a final rinse and tucking the blanket back around him since he'd shrugged it off a bit in his sleep. He didn't feel bothered in the least bit but he was still worried about his new friend. He hoped Quinn would feel better in the morning. He had an offer for him.

The night passed uneventfully for Quinn. A few times he was startled awake by short-lived coughing fits, and once he even got up in search of tissues to blow his nose. When morning came, he was still coughing and achy, and he was certain he was still running a fever, but despite all that, he felt much more rested than he had the day before.

Before Michael came out of his bedroom,

Quinn forced himself up, folding the blanket he'd used and straightening out the cushions. That alone left him dizzy and breathless, so he sat there on the couch, shivering, but not wanting to use the blanket he'd already neatly set aside. He planned to wait for Michael to get up so he could thank him properly again before being on his way. He'd already been enough trouble for his new friend to last him a lifetime.

Michael came out dressed in Hufflepuff pajama pants and an oversized Hogwarts alumni long sleeve t-shirt, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve-paws and yawning. His slightly messy hair was even messier now but bedhead seemed to suit him nicely. “Did you sleep okay?” He asked upon seeing Quinn.

Quinn shrugged nonchalantly. “Could have been worse.” He turned and coughed into his elbow. His throat was raw and his voice was hoarse after a night of endless fits. “I hope I didn't keep you up…”

“No, no not at all.” Michael told him. He could see how sore Quinn was just by how he sat, but especially his throat given how he was rubbing it. “Would you like some tea and breakfast? I know you probably aren't hungry, but I can make you something if you are.” He was gesturing now to a small kitchen just beyond the wall the couch sat against. “Tea would really help your throat too.”

Quinn shook his head. “I should get going,” he said, wincing some as he spoke. Hot tea sounded amazing, and Michael was right in the fact that Quinn was definitely not hungry, but he'd already put his friend through enough trouble. “I appreciate the help, but I'm sure you've got other things to do and—” His words broke off as he turned and sneezed into his elbow.

Michael shook his head. “I don't work today and it's Saturday so there's no class.” He smiled at Quinn, handing him a tissue. “I was just gonna catch up on Doctor Who today.”

He was stalling now, he knew he was, he just couldn't get the courage to ask. He sighed and came to sit on the couch across from Quinn. “Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something.” He began shyly, not exactly looking at Quinn but knowing he was looking at him.

“What do you mean?” Quinn asked. He took the tissue gratefully, his eyes glazing a bit as he blew his nose, the sound punctuated with another sneeze. His mind was cloudy, both from being half asleep and being sick, and he had a hard time forming a reason why Michael would want to talk to him. And why his friend seemed both nervous and serious sitting beside him on the couch.

“Well, I was just thinking, your home life must be pretty bad if you were that sick and avoiding it at the library?” He began, still shy and nervous. “You don't have to, but I wanted to offer...you could stay here?” He finally looked up at him again, that same shy smile on his lips, watching for Quinn's reaction.

“What? Why?” Quinn asked, confused. He honestly couldn't fathom why Michael wanted him around again. He felt a little overwhelmed. “You mean, like another day?” While Michael said he wasn't doing anything today, surely he was only saying that to make Quinn feel better, and Quinn didn't want to have to be looked after like he was some kind of invalid. He scrubbed his hands down his face, feeling conflicted.

“No, not just today.” Michael was becoming flustered due to Quinn's anxiety. “I mean...to be my roommate, but you don't have to!” He felt so disappointed but tried desperately not show it. That would probably only push him away.

Quinn kept his face buried in his hands. “I'm sorry,” he started. “My head’s spinning. This is a lot to take in right now.” It made him happy that Michael was willing to make this a more permanent situation, but Quinn still had a lot to consider. For one, the semester had already started and he didn't know the protocol for asking to switch dorms. Would he even be allowed to?

“Oh god, I didn't even think about it...I'm sorry.” Michael sounded pretty upset, but it was pretty clear it was with himself, not Quinn. “I didn't mean to stress you out more, I just… I figured this would be better than whatever was there? You really don't have to, but...you're welcomed to stay however long you like…” He stood up, preparing to make some tea and mentally kick himself in private.

Quinn felt Michael's weight lift from the couch, and he leaned back against the cushions. He let out an exhausted sigh and immediately proceeded to cough. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought to take medicine in his backpack when he went to the library yesterday.

When he could breathe again, he forced himself to his feet, swaying some, and went to meet Michael in the kitchen. “I didn't mean to sound ungrateful,” he rasped, wrapping his arms around himself to stave off a sudden onslaught of chills.

Michael nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise when Quinn first spoke, and after Quinn apologised again for scaring him, he spoke. He wasn't exactly sure what to say but he didn't want Quinn to feel bad. “It's okay, really, I understand.” He promised, forcing a smile. “We just meet, I'd be wary too.” In Michael's mind, he figured that Quinn probably thought he was a total nutjob. After all, he'd basically kidnapped him.

Quinn wanted to assure him otherwise. “It's not that. I'm sure you'd be a great roommate. I just don't think I'm in the best place right now to be making rash decisions; maybe later when I don't feel like I've been steamrolled.” He owed it to Michael to be completely honest with him, and he offered him a tired smile. “The best I can do is tell you I'll think about it.”

It wasn't that he didn't want to. He'd consider moving back home if it got him out of his current living situation, but before he could even think about accepting Michael's offer, he needed to get well first and figure out and research how he could ask for a room transfer. He really hoped Michael understood that Quinn held no ill will against him.

Luckily for both boy's, Michael finally understood and his anxiety was now at ease - or as eased as it could be for him. “I'll write down my number for you, but seriously, have some tea, your voice sounds painful!” And with that small chuckle, he poured Quinn a mug of tea as well and the two drank in relative silence.

Michael, while no longer anxious about the situation, still hadn't a clue of what to say now but he didn't feel the need to either.

He simply sipped his tea, enjoying the silent company. It was nice not to be alone.

“You can chill out as long as you want, like I said I don't plan on doing anything today.” he repeated as he handed Quinn a sticky note with his phone number and address on it. “No pressure though.” He blushed and looked away, hoping Quinn couldn't tell he was blushing if he looked at his toes instead.

They migrated back to the couch after that, where Michael soon discovered that Quinn was still running a fever. It wasn't nearly as high as before, for which they were both glad, so Michael offered up his blanket again, chuckling at how readily Quinn accepted it.

Quinn pondered whether he should give Michael his number as well until he began to grow sleepy. He was comfortable here, even after only spending the night, and now it was going to be hard to picture himself living anywhere else.

His head wound up on the armrest, his lips parted as the congestion forced him to breathe through his mouth. His soft, gentle snoring didn't go unnoticed, even as he slept there for a couple of hours, finally somewhere content, beside someone he could truly call his friend.

#illness #fever #my ocs #quinn #my writing #nerdlycharming #other people's ocs #a fateful encounter

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imagine-loki · 6 years

Text

Maelstrom

TITLE: Maelstrom CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 9 AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine helping Loki leave his physically and emotionally abusive girlfriend. You treat him with kindness and respect, and with time, as he falls for you, you teach him that love isn’t supposed to hurt. RATING: Mature NOTES/WARNINGS: Trigger Warning - This story is going to deal with emotional and physical abuse by a female abuser to her male partner.

Sonnets are posted at the bottom of the fic for reference Maelstrom - a situation or state of confused movement or violent turmoil.

Cara sat in the gardens, flicking through her book looking for just the perfect sonnet. She could not find the perfect one to fit her current mood.

She was exhausted. Work was difficult at present, for whatever reason the Norns had felt the need to create madness in the realms. It seemed what cases she got were complex and often mind-boggling. So a few hours quiet and reading in the sun was all she wanted.

Lying against a tree, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sunlight and the gentle breeze.

‘Oh.’ On hearing another voice, her eyes shot open. ‘Hello.’

‘My Prince.’ She bowed her head slightly, though part of her was unsure of how to act, as it had been a few weeks since the end of everything to do with Lucia and this was her first interaction with Loki since the day everything came to light. ‘Is everything alright?’

Loki cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I had just planned….’

Cara looked at his hand and realised he had a book in it. ‘Oh, I have stolen your spot, I assume.’

‘Yes….well, no, it’s not really “mine” per se, just…’ He stopped speaking.

‘It’s fine. I’ll find somewhere else, you deserve to have some modicum of peace and quiet.’ She smiled.

‘It’s okay.’ Loki turned and began to walk off before stopping and facing her again. ‘I never thanked you.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘No, I do. I...I never even told you what happened that day, the day it all came out.’

‘You don’t need to.’

‘But I...’

‘If you wish to tell me, then, by all means, I will listen intently. So long as you are not worried that I will rush off and tell everyone.’

‘One thing I noted being repeated several times through everything, Johann and Eir never stopping saying how you reported everything officially without ever even implying it was me, not once in anything was I suspected of being the being you were referencing.’

‘I respected your wishes.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Any time, My Prince.’

Loki looked at her for a moment before biting his lips. ‘May I?’ He indicated to the seat she was sitting on. Immediately, she made room and he sat beside her. ‘I spent that night thinking of everything. How she treated me, how you said I deserved better, how I felt around her compared to when I am around...and I realised you were right. I made my decision. The next morning, she came in and started talking about how she expected me to propose, how she wanted it done which, I should mention everything was against what my position would allow, you know how it is, you are of the same area of the court.’

‘She wanted flamboyant and everyone forced to watch I assume? And I guess she had the ring chosen too, something extravagant and gaudy.’

‘She wanted my mother’s wedding ring.’

Cara looked at him with uncertainty. ‘The one she is wearing at present, what with her still being wed to the Allfather?’

‘The very one.’ Loki confirmed. ‘It has jewels not native to this realm, or many others, sapphires they are called, very rare.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘I was told to tell my mother, tell her, not ask, that if she loved me, that she would want me to be happy and that giving me that ring was how to make me happy, somehow.’

‘Norns.’ Cara shook her head. ‘Not half prone to being manipulative, is she?’

‘It was my limit.’ Loki confessed. ‘My mother loves that ring. My father went to Midgard for the rock for it, that’s where it comes from. He had it made specifically for her and apparently, by all accounts, made an absolute blundering fool of himself proposing to her. She smiles every time she looks at it. It’s not the most valuable ring in the realms, not by a long shot, but she loves it.’

‘That is beautiful. No one could ever, with any respect for her, make such a…..”request” as that.’

‘No.’ He toyed with his fingers and fidgeted a lot. ‘I told her no, that there was not going to be a proposal either, or an engagement, none of it. She did not take it well.’

Cara took his hand and looked him in the eye. ‘I think that is something of an understatement.’ She stated solemnly, causing them both to laugh. ‘You did the right thing, you were incredibly brave to fight her on that. You can be happy now.’

‘I have started doing things of late, things I used always like. It has made me so much happier in myself again.’

‘Good, you deserve such.’ She smiled.

‘I must confess, however, that I miss speaking with you of different literature and other matters.’

‘You do not have to be injured to seek my company for such things. In fact, I would much rather you were not injured and sought my company.’ She stated.

‘What sonnet would suit today?’

‘Forty-Nine.’ She stated without thought. Loki took only a moment to consider it before nodding, acknowledging the poignancy in it, all things considered. ‘What about you, have any stuck out with you of late?’

‘One-forty-seven.’ He smiled slightly.

Cara frowned as she recalled the one in question, when she recited it to herself, she nodded slightly and gave a small smile ‘You are moving on with life, that’s good. I hope you find what you are longing for.’

‘How do you do that? How do you genuinely care for others as you do? So many pretend to care but you, you do and you can see it.’

‘Someone is happy is of a mindset that they would like others to be happy. What would I gain from wishing ill on others?’

‘I wish I was more like you, minus the dress of course.’

Cara snorted slightly before erupting in laughter at his words. ‘Sorry, that’s just too funny, it’s brilliant.’

Her laughter startled Loki for a moment. ‘I...You thought that that was funny?’

Cara ceased laughing. ‘Was it not meant to be?’

‘I...It’s just...’

‘You’re more used to people laughing at you?’

‘Well, yes.’ Loki confessed. ‘Especially now.’

Cara took his hand again, having realised he craved the positive contact and rubbed it kindly. ‘No one deserves that, especially you.’

‘You are too kind to me.’

‘I have to be because you are not being kind enough to yourself. You need to change that. Love yourself, love who you are. It must be hard not to for you are an incredible being.’

‘I fear you are a terrible liar, kind though.' Loki looked at her hand on his. ‘This feels so different, every time you have touched me, you are so different to how…’

‘That is because I would never willingly harm you. I genuinely care for your happiness and wellbeing.’

Loki swallowed. ‘I have to go.’ He rose to his feet and scarpered off without any further explanation, leaving Cara utterly baffled.

Loki watched as everyone danced around the room jovially. It had been almost half a year since Lucia was forced to face justice for her actions and lies. In that time, he recovered a lot of his self-worth, mostly due to Cara advice.

He saw her often but only allowed himself in her company when he knew he would not embarrass himself, which was infrequently.

It was at a festive event when finally he worked up the courage to talk to her again. Cara was sitting next to her sister and Thor when he approached. He could see she was more than a little bored. He walked over and gave a polite smile. ‘Mind if I join you?’

‘No, please.’ Cara all but jumped out of her chair to make room for him.

‘I am getting the feeling that Cara would converse with Hela herself rather than stay here listening to us any longer.’ Sif scoffed.

‘I would like to speak with the Goddess of Death, I would imagine she would be highly fascinating to converse with.’ Cara stated nonchalantly, Thor and Sif looking at her as though she had said something utterly mad. ‘Oh go back to arguing as to which of you is the bigger fool, such topics are wasted on you both.’ She ordered with a smile. ‘Do you think we will be honoured in Valhalla for having suffered them in this life?’ She asked Loki, the kind smile she always seemed to wear in his presence was bestowed on him to him once more.

‘I hope so, it can be the only thing to stop me shoving an apple in his mouth whole some days in hope of silencing him, if only for a moment.’ Loki responded.

‘I am not a pig.’ Thor growled, rising to his feet and leaving to go to speak with his other friends, Sif in tow.

Cara leant towards Loki to be sure they were not overheard. ‘I would dispute that, he can be an incredible bore.’

Loki, who had been taking a drink from the chalice he had brought to the table with him, was left coughing and spluttering as he laughed, mid drink, at her comment. It took several minutes for him to breathe right again afterwards. ‘Sorry.’

‘It should be me apologising to you.’ Cara rubbed his back, having clapped it a few times in his coughing. ‘I should not have said it.’

‘I am glad you did, even if my body tried to clock out because of it. That was brilliant.’

‘Well, so long as you forgive me.’ Cara blushed slightly.

‘There is nothing you could do to make me feel the need to forgive you.’ Loki had barely finished saying the words before he became very interested in his own hands. Do...Would you care to dance?’

Cara was slightly taken back by his asking such a question. ‘Yes.’

‘Really?’ He gave a nervous smile as he rose to his feet and extended his hand to her, she took it and the pair walked onto the dance floor, ignoring anyone that may have been looking at them.

‘I promise I am better now.’

Loki could only laugh, recalling the only other time he had danced with her. They were a lot younger then and Odin had forced him and Thor to dance with Tyr’s daughters, but Cara, not long a teenager, was nervous and scared and fell over Loki’s feet and her own, more than once. The only reason she did not fall flat on her face in front of a room full of both Aesir and foreign gentry was because Loki caught her. That was the one and only time he had danced with her. ‘We will see.’

They were flawless. Loki had always been graceful in every manner, dancing was no different. Cara had not allowed herself to dance publicly again until she was certain she would not embarrass herself again but she rarely danced. Neither paid any attention to anyone who may or may not have been paying them any heed but they had been noticed, by their family and by many others. For Loki and Cara, they only danced their dance, looking at one another the entire time they did so.

Even after the song ended, the pair continued to look at one another, neither saying anything to the other. It took several moments before Loki noticed Thor in his peripheral vision, looking at him as though it was some incredible new discovery before him. Loki’s reaction was to focus on Cara once more before taking her and in his and raising it to his lips, giving it a faint kiss while looking into her eyes. ‘You are incredible.’

Cara blushed, realising it was a significant step in being more positive. ‘All I needed to do to do better this time was not fall.’

Loki chuckled slightly. ‘Cara…’ He bit his bottom lip and looked her in the eye. ‘Can...If…’ He sighed and looked at the ground. ‘Nevermind.’

‘Talk to me, Loki.’ She pleaded.

‘I can’t.’

‘Please.’ But he just walked away and out of the ballroom.

Disappointed, Cara walked back to her seat and said nothing to anyone.

Sonnets

Sonnet 49 (Cara's choice) Against that time (if ever that time come) When I shall see thee frown on my defects; Whenas thy love hath cast his utmost sum, Called to that audit by advised respects; Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass, And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye; When love, converted from the thing it was, Shall reasons find of settled gravity; Against that time do I ensconce me here Within the knowledge of mine own desert, And this my hand against myself uprear To guard the lawful reasons on thy part: To leave poor me, thou hast the strength of laws, Since why to love I can allege no cause.

Sonnet 147 (Loki's) My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desp'rate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. Past cure I am, now reason is past care, And frantic mad with evermore unrest, My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are, At random from the truth vainly expressed; For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

#loki #angst #Submission #Submitted fic #Maelstrom #chapter 9 #wolfpawn #trigger warning #emotional abuse #physical abuse

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ikesenhell · 6 years

Text

Guiding Hands

This is Chapter 2 of I See Starlight. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: SPOILERS FOR TO HONOR AND PROTECT. If you have not read it, please go back and do so before proceeding. Shout out to @ihavenotfallenyet for making me do this and @shadowfairyy‘s headcanon art of... particular peoples that also inspired me in some ways.

Hideyoshi was plagued with violent nightmares. It felt ridiculous. All those years in banditry doing inexcusable things, and only now was he suffering.

He was positive that he wasn’t the only one. After what befell the city not so long ago, who didn’t? The changes in those around him were slight, but deeply felt nonetheless. Shingen had never really recovered from the relapse in illness. Kenshin was softer around his edges now, as if his time under the magical madness wore some of his bloodlust away. And Mitsuhide--

Oh, Mitsuhide.

Despite himself, he was desperately fond of the man. He always had been. Their silver kitsune was slick and fearless and utterly shameless in ways he never had been. To see him reduced to such a shell of himself was more than Hideyoshi could take. He’d felt Mitsunari take his last breaths and felt the bone-deep sorrow and trauma of not protecting his very best friend--but Mitsuhide was a different kind of failure. He was there...

And Hideyoshi couldn’t even protect him from himself.

He did his best. He served as Mitsuhide’s eyes as often as he could. The others whispered about retiring him, maybe having him relegated to a different role in the background, but Hideyoshi couldn’t let it go.

“You’re blinded by feelings.” Nobunaga said it so matter-of-factly that Hideyoshi forced himself to acknowledge the truth there.

“I just--” He grit his teeth and forced the words. “He’s changed. Maybe Mitsunari’s change was the most drastic, what with...” A simple hand gesture was all they needed. How else did they describe their friend being the ocean? “But Mitsuhide’s is the hardest to swallow.”

“We’ve all changed.” Shuttering his ruby eyes, Nobunaga took a long moment. Hideyoshi knew that expression. It was when his greatest inspiration needed to steel himself. “But practically speaking, Mitsuhide has lost much of his physical capabilities. He has retained his wisdom, and his intellect never waned, but I challenge you to look at the man and tell me that he is still fit for service.”

There was wisdom in that. Hideyoshi knew it. He heard the soft creak of footsteps as Mitsuhide pattered around the kitchen at entirely incorrect times. He watched him relegate himself to his bed, staring at a ceiling that didn’t exist anymore--not in his world, at least. Sometimes he found himself arranging chairs and furniture so his friend wouldn’t collide with them entirely.

Masamune found him one day and laughed. “You know you can’t child-proof the whole house, right?”

“I’m not child proofing,” he snapped back, “I’m being accommodating.”

The other man shrugged. “Whatever you wanna call it, Mamayoshi.”

---

Mitsuhide started his outings not long after.

Hideyoshi didn’t even know about them until a bit later; maybe the third or fourth one. Admittedly, his first reaction was terror. He was doing what? Where? What if someone hit him? What if he got lost? A thousand what ifs bounced through his head like hail until Mitsuhide fixed him with a look--dead on, at that--and gave him a quiet “Let me do it.”

Maybe he needed some independence. He relented, and Mitsuhide came back fine, an armload of braille books in his arms and a glow around him.

“Where are you getting those?” Ieyasu asked over dinner, his curious eyes on the ever-growing stack. “We had to specially order yours in.”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “I have people.”

“Do you have to make everything sound ominous?”

“Where else might one buy books, Ieyasu? I’ll grant you three guesses and even a hint. It rhymes with ‘hookstore’.”

Shingen laughed so hard he started wheezing. Kenshin slapped him on the back to speed the process along. “Don’t kill me, Kitsune.”

“I don’t think I need to. It looks like you’re doing quite well at that yourself.”

“Says the blind man.”

Mitsuhide just grinned at that, and for the first time in a long while, Hideyoshi’s heart felt full again.

---

Apparently there was a woman in the mix.

Hideyoshi didn’t mean to pry. Mitsunari was visiting on one of his outings from the water, so he was taking much-needed time with his best friend in the marketplace. It almost felt... normal. After all the trial and tribulation of the prior year, just walking and talking was a rare luxury indeed.

And then they saw it.

“Is that Mitsuhide?” Mitsunari remarked. “His hair is certainly growing long, isn’t it? It’s at his shoulders now.”

“Now that you mention it, it is.” Hideyoshi squinted to see the man better. It looked like he was buying more books, making a transaction at the stall with a woman around his age. She was short and fetching, with waist long dark hair and dark eyes, a rosebud mouth and a shy smile. As they watched, Mitsuhide said something and she blushed--then reached out and took his hand, guiding it to her hot cheek.

Something strange in Hideyoshi recoiled and delighted all at once, and he was so bewildered by the feeling that he halted in his tracks to contemplate it. Mitsunari looked back, confused.

“Hideyoshi?”

“Coming. Coming.”

---

Mitsuhide was settled in a sunny spot at the kitchen table when he came back. Hideyoshi half expected the usual snaky glance, reminding himself only a moment later that he wouldn’t see that again. “Afternoon.”

“Afternoon,” Mitsuhide drawled, trailing a hand over a book until he reached a stopping point. “How is our resident body of water?”

“He’s good.” Pouring himself a cup of hot water, Hideyoshi prepared his tea quietly. “Tea?”

“Sounds excellent.”

He fixed a second cup and scooted it into Mitsuhide’s obligingly open hand. “I passed you in the market today.”

“Oh?” Some things never changed. Frustratingly hard to read as ever, Mitsuhide just lifted the cup to his mouth and sipped.

“Yes. It looks like you have a little fan of you in the book vendor.”

Uncharacteristically, Mitsuhide paused. “I’ve been wondering. What does she look like?”

“Look like?” Hideyoshi faltered. “Long, dark hair. Narrow-ish dark eyes, sort of like Sarutobi’s. She’s very short. She wore a red dress with a tiny golden trim. I’d say she’s pretty.”

“Mmm.” A ghost of a smile flickered over Mitsuhide’s mouth, but then it stilled. “Thank you. I appreciate you being my eyes.”

For a moment, Hideyoshi had an awful pang of jealousy. Jealousy? He paused, reexamining himself. He was. Of whom, exactly? It was almost terrifying in its implication--but he crushed it and reached out, taking Mitsuhide’s hand and squeezing it. “Of course. I’m glad to be your eyes.”

---

New orders came down only a few days later.

“One of us is to enter magical training.” Nobunaga paced idly before them. “The ban on it has been lifted, and it’s considered important now for us to engaged in and understand its potential.”

“So we’re guinea pigs?” Shingen offered. “That’s reassuring. Mitsunari didn’t even have complete mastery of it. Who are we learning from?”

“A combination of Mitsunari and the Queen. She’s grown more adept at it, too. In due time, hopefully we can generate enough experience to generate some kind of learning process.”

Yuki huffed. “If it’s all the same to you, you can count me out of that one. That shit honestly terrifies me.”

“Fair enough.”

“Me.” Mitsuhide stood up from the table. “Me. I’ll do it.”

Silence reigned uncomfortably. Kenshin spoke first.

“Don’t you need eyes for that?”

“No one ever said that. We don’t even know that.” Mitsuhide cocked his head in Kenshin’s general direction. “Mitsunari learned from books. I can read, you know.”

“None of those texts are in braille.”

“I know someone who can get a translator for me.” The white haired man didn’t budge. “Let me do this.”

Hideyoshi cast his eyes around the room, absorbing all the skeptical eyes. It was a strange thought, no doubt. Would it even work? There was always the possibility it was a waste of time... but who else could make it work if not Mitsuhide?

At last, he stood too. “I’ll back Mitsuhide. If anyone has the willpower, he does. If he needs help, I can help.”

“Hideyoshi,” Masamune warned, ever the blunt one, “you can’t be there at every turn.”

“I won’t be.”

“I won’t let him be,” Mitsuhide added with a chuckle. “I am nothing if not independent.”

Nobunaga exchanged glances with Kenshin. At last, the blonde nodded reluctantly.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Then it is settled.”

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lickstynine · 5 years

Text

Misadventures of Kit: Chapter Twenty-Three

written with @ocsickficsideblog

Alistair was anything but surprised when Kit woke up the morning of the eighth with a meagre appetite and a massive headache. However, he started to get concerned when his cousin was still just as miserable come dinner, and his concerns were cemented when Kit dropped a mug of tea thanks to a nasty coughing fit. Julius came rushing in when he heard the clattering.

“Are you alright?”

Kit was standing sheepishly in the kitchen, handkerchief in hand and spilled tea at his feet. He waved timidly at Julius, offering a weak smile. “Sorry… I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

“Don’t move, let me clear up the bits. I don’t want you stepping on any,” Julius said, hurrying to pick up the pieces of the broken mug.

Alistair groaned, wiping his nose on his sleeve - he’d barely been able to breathe today. “You got bloody sick from yesterday, didn’t you?” he sighed.

“You don’t catch a cold by being outside in damp weather.” Kit grumbled. “And use a tissue.”

“So why are we both sick?”

“I don’t know, maybe graveyards carry the plague.” Kit shoved a tissue box threateningly at his cousin when Alistair lifted his arm towards his nose again.

“Jesus,” Alistair snorted, taking one. “That was like an invitation to a duel. Do you demand satisfaction, sir?”

Kit rolled his eyes, though it was less good-natured than usual. “I demand that you not wipe your snot on your clothes.”

“So what’s up with you then, face-ache?”

“Aside from being harassed by you?” Kit asked. “I was getting tea. Obviously that didn’t go well, so I was going to give up and go back to the couch to await my death.”

“I’ll make you some tea,” Julius said.

Alistair was just laughing. “Don’t die on our sofa, we can’t afford another.”

“Thank you, Julie.” Kit ignored Alistair entirely, hunching over on the couch to cough into his handkerchief. There was an awful rawness in his throat, and it burned with every cough. He decided that if he ever somehow found out who they’d bumped into yesterday that got them sick, he’d have the person publicly executed.

“Kit, what’s wrong, seriously?”

The older boy scowled. “I’m sick. It’s miserable. What do you want from me?”

“I was thinking more symptoms. God, you’re a right moody bleeder when you’re ill.”

“Oh.” Kit had to stop and think. “Aside from my lungs trying to turn inside-out? The worst is the headache. Oh, and my throat hurts.” He slumped down on the couch, rubbing his hands over his face and pulling a blanket over himself. Julius brought him a mug of tea, rubbing his back (or the general area around his back, he couldn’t see with the blanket there). Kit leaned into the touch, mumbling his thanks for the tea. Star hopped up onto the sofa too, settling down in the middle of Kit’s back. He cringed, but didn’t have the energy to shove her off.

Alistair laughed at them when he came to sit. “She loves you.”

“I cannot fathom why.” Kit said, “I'm not the warmest, or the softest.”

“She’s a cat. Maybe she thinks it's funny that you don’t like animals.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “Maybe. If she takes after her obnoxious owner.”

“That’s my girl.” Alistair grinned.

Kit just sighed, sipping his tea and trying not to cough before he swallowed. Alistair had to blow his nose again, groaning.

“Julie, do you have medicine somewhere, or do we just get to suffer?”

“I’ve got medicine,” Julius said, dashing off and returning a second later with the box of pills.

Kit held out a hand for the package, wanting to examine it before he took any. Alistair peered at it too, nodding. It was just cold medicine of course, Julius wasn’t some serial killer with a ridiculously long-term plan. Kit nodded approvingly and took two pills before offering the medicine to Alistair. He took a couple too, sighing.

Kit downed his pills with a generous swig of tea, knowing he’d just cough and choke if he took them dry like Alistair. Even with a drink, it was hard to get them down; his throat was so sore, it didn’t want to swallow. He winced a little, but forced them down, slumping back on the couch. Star mewed in protest and squeezed out from behind him.

“Not my fault you sat there.” Kit mumbled.

“Don’t squash my cat,” Alistair said.

“Then don’t let her crawl on me.”

“She’s just being friendly.”

“I wish she’d be friendly like Oliver and respect that I don’t want to be crawled on.” Kit said, clearly annoyed.

“You’re so obsessed with Oliver,” he snorted.

Kit huffed. “I’m not obsessed. I just like him.”

“He is sweet. Want to hold him?”

Kit nodded right away. Alistair grinned, scooping the little hamster out of the cage. Kit set his tea aside, holding his hands out expectantly. He smiled as the tiny creature settled in his palms. “Hello, friend.”

Oliver gave the tip of Kit’s thumb a tiny bite, how he’d started to greet him every time. Kit rubbed his nose with the same thumb, settling back on the couch with the hamster against his chest. Oliver settled against him happily. Alistair shook his head. “You’ve got a weird bromance with Ollie.”

“It’s not inherently weird for me like an animal.” Kit said.

“No, it’s definitely weird for you to like an animal. You never do.”

“It’s not Oliver’s fault he’s the best animal I’ve met.”

“He’s a good hamster, yes.”

Kit nodded, though he gasped in surprise when Oliver’s tiny nose poked curiously into his sleeve. “That tickles!”

He hitched himself up into Kit’s sleeve, resettling in his cuff. He snuggled into it like a tiny hammock. Kit looked delighted, but also afraid to move. He whispered urgently to his cousin.

“Al! What do I do?”

“Either leave him there or gently tip him out. Cup your hand to catch him,” Alistair said, grinning.

“I don’t want to bother him.” Kit said, being very careful to keep his arm still.

“He’ll be fine. Just don’t fling your arms about or anything.”

“Of course I won’t.” Kit huffed, but a moment later, he nearly did just that, when a cough made him reach instinctively for his handkerchief. He of course caught himself, reaching with his free hand for Oliver’s sake. Oliver didn’t seem too perturbed, barely moving. Kit apologized to the hamster anyway. “Sorry, friend.”

Alistair snorted. “Why’d you call him friend?”

“Well, it would be stupid to call him Sir.”

“Just call him by his name.”

“That feels strange too, though. He’s still a hamster.” Kit pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“So? Animals recognise their names.”

Kit looked surprised. “They do?”

“Yep. Mostly just the sounds,” Alistair said.

“That’s strange. I thought it was only dogs.” Kit said.

It might well have been only dogs, but Alistair nodded convincingly. “They all can.”

“Fascinating. I don’t know much about animals…” Kit mused, coughing into his handkerchief again.

“Think you need to see a doctor?” Alistair asked, already internally panicking. “You need to watch your chest since that pneumonia…”

“You say that like that was the first time I’d had pneumonia.” Kit said into his handkerchief. “It’s practically a winter tradition of mine.”

“You two! It’s like living with a pair of Victorian consumptives,” Alistair said, nudging Julius with his foot. He’d sat on the floor to give Kit the adequate space on the sofa for his dramatic flop.

“I’ve never had tuberculosis, drama queen. Pneumonia isn’t that severe, it’s just… inconvenient.” Kit mumbled, stretching out on the couch.

“It’s pretty fucking severe. They didn’t put Jules in hospital when he had it. How dangerous was that?”

“It’s often treated at home, Star,” Julius said.

Kit rolled his eyes. “I was never in hospital for it as a kid. Why would you think that was necessary?”

“You know. Just in case.” Alistair, of course, didn’t have a good answer.

Kit sighed. “You're lucky we love you, idiot.”

“I love you, that’s why I worry.”

“You can worry about someone without throwing a fit every time they stub their toe.” Kit said.

“I know that. I’m working on it,” Alistair said. “Just keep safe.”

“I'm trying.” Kit slowly extended his arm. “Will you put Oliver away? I think I need a nap.”

“You not gonna sleep with him then? In a heart-shaped bed?” Alistair grinned, gently cupping Oliver in his hands and tucking him back in his sawdust bed.

Kit furrowed his brows, curling up on the couch. “Shut up.”

“How’re you feeling then, misery?”

“Lousy.” Kit sighed. His phone buzzed, but he just ignored it. Alistair looked up.

“Can I see who sent you a message?”

“Sure, I don't care.” Kit handed over the phone. It was actually a reminder - he had a doctor's appointment on Monday.

“It’s just saying you’re off to the doctor on Monday.”

Kit groaned. “I feel like I'm there every bloody day.” It was really only once a fortnight - the doctor needed to make sure Kit was gaining weight, as well as seeing how the steroid treatments were working.

“He’s making sure you don’t snuff it or off yourself. I have to go to my doctor once a month for that too.”

Kit cringed, but he said nothing, pulling the blanket over his head and closing his eyes. Alistair sighed. “Oh well, if you’re sick we can at least ask the doctor then.”

“It's just a cold.” Kit mumbled.

“We know what you’re like, though. It’s just a cold, then before we know it you’re in the ICU.”

Kit sighed. “Yeah…” he'd been trying to be optimistic, but Alistair wasn't making it easy.

“Star, don’t say that,” Julius said. “Kit has been eating better recently. That’ll help his immune system.”

“Doubt it's enough to make up for the steroids,” Kit muttered. His cousin's cynicism was rubbing off.

“Well, let’s not count our chickens. It probably is just a cold.”

“Mm.” Kit stayed nestled in his blankets, letting out a dramatic groan when Star jumped on top of him. Alistair laughed hard, especially when Star padded along Kit’s body and nestled happily in the crook of his neck. Kit sighed. “Why do you hate me, Al?”

Alistair carefully hooked Star up into his arms. “There. Happy now?”

“I’m less unhappy.”

“Better than nothing.”

“Mmhm.” Kit just wanted to sleep. Alistair and Julius left him there - Alistair never liked waking him up, and Julius was a big believer in convalescent napping. Kit snored into the cushions, out for the afternoon.

#continuing nano even tho its december #misadventures of Kit #chapter twenty-three #kit #raycraft #illness #whump #cold #alistair #julius #collab #ocsickficsideblog

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forever-more-never-again · 6 years

Text

A bloody Legacy

*GIF not mine*I do not own Supernatural*

This is just something to tide you over until the dream fic(tm) is ready. Takes place when Sam is admitted to the psych ward after the wall in his head comes down and Lucifer comes in.

Pairing: None. ANGST!

Word Count: 2343

Warnings: Mentions of Lucifer, blood, ptsd, anxiety, swearing, mental illness, and Death

a/n: know that there are always people ready to listen if you are affected by anything.

Masterlist

Italicized is Lucifer speaking in Sam’s head

The white walls stared back at him. So blank, so empty. It wasn’t anything like the crazy patterns of the motels he had grown up living in. It hurt a little to think of his childhood.It caused Lucifer to start reminiscing about HIS childhood. Sam turned his attention to the giant white door as it squeaked open. Someone should really fix that, Lucifer commented from his spot on the desk next to the door. Sam looked past, not at, Lucifer as the nurse invaded the privacy of his room.

“Sam... how are we today?” Todd asked as he slowly closed the door behind him. The long, drawn-out screech made Sam wince and Lucifer to chuckle. Todd was nice enough Sam supposed. He was balding as he reached thirty, and his stomach had a slight pudge to it. And he was not a Demon, as proven by his casual use of the word Christo in their conversations.

Sam closed his eyes again to try and tune out Lucifer who was now singing stairway to heaven and replied softly, “You don’t have to talk to me like that. I am an adult.”

Todd walked up to his bed, he could feel his body heat radiating. He held out one hand, palm up. He knew the routine. Pill in hand, swallow, cup, swallow, try not to gag.

After a few minutes, He still felt Todd next to him.

“Christo.” He opened one eye to see a confused Todd, still with his dull brown eyes. “Well, Todd. No episodes today. You can go.”

Todd shrugged his shoulders, he left the room, the damn door squealing again as it shut. He looks like an ad for mid-life crisis.

Sam jumped off his bed and strode over to where Lucifer sat smirking on the desk. “Get out of my head!”

Aww Sammy, but then we wouldn’t get to have sleepovers and braid each other's hair. Talk about all our shared time in the cage.

Sam sighed in futile frustration as he turned around, he caught a quick glint as the light shone off the mirror but quickly avoided looking directly in it at his reflection. He couldn’t look at it and realize that he was all alone in the room...it was too painful. A reminder that this was all in his head. That he truly was crazy.

Any minute, the head Doctor would walk down the hallway and unlock all the doors, opening them, allowing Sam and the other patients to go to the living area and have some free time.

Sam shook his head, trying to silence Lucifer. He focused on the ceiling. 187 white, pockmarked tiles. He knew, because he spent countless hours counting them. Still, he started counting again to erase memories that were trying to assert themselves in his mind.

At 85, he heard the click that signaled his door was unlocked. Staff pulled that damn squeaky door open and waited for Sam to get in the hallway before closing it again. Sam looked down the hallway and saw the young woman he had met on the first day. They connected, seeing as she was in here for actually attempting to speak up about the supernatural and her family had her committed, convinced she was schizophrenic. As he started to wave, his eyes caught the cowering figure that stood outside the room across from Holly’s. Sam studied the figure as he waited for the staff to finish unlocking the other doors. She wasn’t anything special as far as Sam could see. Scrawny, with ratty brown hair that hung in knots down to her shoulders. Did not look older than eighteen at the most. Whenever she peeked up and looked around nervously, Sam caught the glimpse of hazel eyes.

Ohh, new meat. Lucifer commented as he popped up next to Sam.

Once they made it to the common room, Sam immediately rushed to a window ledge seat at the far end. The seat itself was just a faded floral fabric over a hard wooden bench, but the scenery provided by the window was worth a little soreness. The window was not huge, barely the size of his head, and the scene was blocked a bit by metal bars that ran parallel in front of the pane. Sam didn’t mind, just the chance to feel a slight breeze and smell the open air brought him back to hunting with his brother. He would take anything he could to feel somewhat normal.

Since it was summer, the green grass was blowing softly. Reverently, slowly, he reached up towards the open panel.

“You know that’s not allowed.”

Sam quickly snatched his hand back and looked up at the familiar figure.

Holly merely smiled and plopped down on the ledge next to Sam. Her honey soft voice, weak from years of singing and crying, drifted to Sam, “Last time you were caught touching the window, you were not allowed out here for a week.”

Sam grimaced. The stupid rules. Like he could fit through the window with the bars in front of it.

Sam’s train of thought got interrupted as Holly nudged him and thrusted her chin at the door as she whispered, “What do you think of the new girl?”

Sam looked over...the new girl looked like she was a mouse preparing to get slaughtered...slaughtered...blood...red walls...You can’t escape the cage, Sammy. Sam looked around at the dripping blood, the hollow screams of damned souls echoing in his head.

Holly watched as Sam went into one of his mind states, Sam had told her all about Lucifer being in his head when they realized they both knew the truth about the monsters in the world. Sam’s eyes were open, but glossy, seeing but not what was reality. Holly was his friend because he was the only one that was mostly normal. He wasn’t like Jenny who thought she was a long-lost princess of a faraway island who held out hope that her lover, a duke, would come rescue her… For the most part, Sam was normal.

Holly noticed the young new teenager standing awkwardly by the wall and caught her eyes. Holly smiled softly at the emptiness she saw in the young girl’s eyes.

The girl walked stiffly over to where Sam and Holly were. Holly gently took the new girl’s hands as she reached the ledge and urged her to sit. “Hi, my name is Holly and this,” Holly looked over her shoulder at where Sam was still battling Lucifer, “Is Sam… What’s your name?”

Hazel eyes flashed with something, so quick, Holly couldn’t identify and then said so quietly and meekly, Holly barely heard her, “Emily...my name is Emily Portsmith.”

Sam snapped out of Lucifer’s mirage and brought his head up and over, blinking when he saw someone sitting next to Holly on their ledge...Not just anyone either, the young new girl.

“Hi, it’s Emily right? I heard correctly?” Sam stretched out a hand towards her. Emily nodded warily, her hazel eyes wide.

Emily looked over the giant man in front of her. He was tall, largely built, with shaggy brown hair and soulful brown eyes.

This was the guy, the one she was here for. Sam Winchester.

Clueless about what Emily was thinking, Sam leaned back and closed his eyes, focusing on everything except Lucifer, who was pretending he was a judge of a fashion show and the patient’s were the participants.

As the clock kept ticking, Holly gently urged Emily to open up to her. Holly was about in her late twenties, so when she saw the quiet teenager, her motherly instincts kicked in. She felt protective of the girl.

Sam finally reached his breaking point as Lucifer started shouting in his ear. Don’t ignore me Sammy. I’m in your head. You can’t get rid of me.

“Shut up! Agh!” Sam shot up to his feet, hands holding his head as if it was about to explode. You are a killer, Sammy. A ruthless monster. “I’m not a killer! Get out of my head! I don’t hurt people!”

At that, Emily couldn’t take it, standing up she pointed a shaky finger at Sam, her eyes blazing, “You say you don’t hurt innocent people and you pretend to be crazy, but I know that is not the real truth. This is Hell…” The Staff started merging towards the group as Emily lowered her voice and uttered darkly, “Right where you belong.”

The staff pulled Emily away from the group...she offered no resistance, just glared at Sam with hatred in her eyes as more people grabbed him and injected him with a tranquilizar as he struggled against their hold, dragging him away as well.

Sam came to in a bed in the doctor’s office. Holly was sitting up in the bed next to him, watching him warily. Sam sat up quickly, but then had to grab his head as it started pounding.

“Get out! Damn Lucifer!” He shouted, forgetting about the woman next to him.

Holly scooted back and away, she whispered, “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”

Sam paid no mind, stuck within his mind, with Lucifer.

Unbeknownst to him...Emily stood in the doorway. She looked once, quickly, at Holly...who looked over at her in confusion.

Holly turned back to Sam. His shaggy brown hair coated in sweat, his eyes glossy, not seeing the present.

Emily marched over to the bed, snatched the schive she had sneaked in out of her pocket...and couldn’t do it. She wavered, holding the weapon over Sam’s back.

“What are you doing!?” Holly gaped at the teenager as she watched the events unfold. She was too shocked to get up. She merely looked on, in shock, of what was about to happen.

But Emily didn’t plunge the schive into Sam. She couldn’t seem to get her hands to obey. She could feel the rage in her system. This man..this man and his self-righteous brother had taken everything from her. Killed her father and brother in cold blood over ten years ago. She had been hunting them ever since she could walk. Trying to track down the two men who had left her with two dead bodies in her home until the cops had came and called it a break in gone wrong.

She had finally tracked the one most responsible, Sam, the youngest, to this psychiatrist hospital. And she had this opportunity to end her suffering, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to be the cold-blooded killer she wanted to be when the time arrived.

So she slowly lowered her makeshift weapon and sighed. As she exited she looked back at Sam, then over to Holly, who had her eyes open and was looking confused at Emily.

At this moment, Sam broke free from Lucifer and glanced around wildly. Noticing Emily, he also gave her a confused look, “Emily? What are you doing here? What was all that back in the common room?”

Emily felt tears rise up in her eyes, but refused to let this man see her cry. She turned to face Sam, anger on her face, “Because you killed my family in cold-blood Sam Winchester.” She enjoyed the look of sheer surprise on his face, he had been admitted under a false surname so that no one would know he was there.

“You’re family?” He asked softly.

“Yes. My father...and...and….my older brother.” Emily struggled to speak through the growing lump in her throat. “You and your brother broke into my house one night, years ago, and slaughtered them with your knives as if they were dogs in the street! Then you left their bodies there, with me, to rot for hours until the cops came! I was just a little kid! And yet you didn’t kill me because, and I quote, ‘The bastard hadn’t turned her yet’.” Emily had marched slowly over to where Sam was, eyes wide as he listened.

When she stopped he raised his hands, slowly standing up till he could face her, “Emily. I’m sorry for what we put you through at such a young age. But your father and brother weren’t there when we killed them. They were monsters, Vampires, who were killing the neighbors. They were hurting a lot of innocent people. It’s what me and my brother do, we hunt monsters. I am extremely sorry that we left you there.” Sam let the tears flow freely down his face as he stared into the rage of Emily’s eyes. He could recall the case, it was a bad one. In the end, they had decided that the child was young enough, she would recover. Now he could see how wrong they had been.

Emily scoffed, “Vampires. What Bull. You’re a cold-blooded murderer, Sam Winchester. I know about the supernatural and My family wasn’t evil!”

Sam reached out and gripped one of her hands, the simple contact making the tears in Emily’s eyes fall over the edge and coat her cheeks. “Emily, I promise you, I wouldn’t have killed your family if they were innocent. I’m so sorry you had to find out and that your life has been so affected by my actions, but I couldn’t let your father and brother keep killing people.”

Emily seemed to register what he was saying and feel the truth of his words because it suddenly seemed like her body became jello. She sagged onto the ground, sobbs racking her chest.

It was then, that Holly who had been a silent bystander during the whole exchange, came forward and pulled the distraught teenager into her arms, “Shhh. Let it out. You’ve had this bottled up to long. Let it out. “She rubbed soothing circles on the young girl’s back as she looked up at Sam, who stood there, tears streaming down his face at his Legacy. The bloody path he had left behind in his life.

See Sammy, you bring blood and destruction wherever you go. You and I belong together.

#supernatural x reader #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #lucifer #angst #souless sam #please give feedback #please give credit #rose #rose rambles #rose writes #enjoy

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singingpeople · 7 years

Text

Undoing

Chapter 2

@beautifulramblingbrains @pathybo @tigpooh67 @jojuarez26 @bookwarm85 @lets-play-truth-or-dare @deepfrz @carefultheyspit @iammarylastar @you-wont-let-me-let-you-go @beltz2016

“And I've got my mind, made up this time

Go on and light a cigarette, set a fire in my head.

Set a fire in my head tonight.

Don't forget me, don't forget me

I wouldn't leave you if you'd let me

When you met me when you met me

You told me you were gonna get me.

Don't forget me,

don't forget me.”

The room was deadly quiet for a second, everyone holding their breaths. Looking up, I wished I hadn´t. The first person I spotted was my mother, eyes wide, face ashen. My father was more composed but the devastation hidden deep behind the mask he was displaying send sharp jolts of pain right into my chest.

Swaying my gaze, I met my brothers and almost flinched back, the utmost hatred etched into the lines of his red face scorching me from the other side of the room. He would keep his word, for him I was no longer family.

Two rows lower all my friends – or former friends now – stared at me, expressions contorted in various stages of shock, the joy from moments before vanished into nothingness.

It only took the split-second in which I had raised my head to take in the train wreck that was my former life, and I quickly averted my eyes, my whole body numb. Staring at the floor, I cynically realized that it was exactly what people would expect from me from now on. To look away first, to fade into the background.

Taking a hesitant step forward, I was met by restrained, polite applause from my new faction, almost being drowned out from the rising whispers and outraged murmurs from my old one and for the first time in my life, all self-confidence vanished into thin air, leaving me without the hard shell dauntless life had given me. Right now, disappearing didn’t sound so bad after all.

Trying not to let it bother me, I picked up my pace slightly to make room for the next one to choose when a movement to my left made me turn my head. I met a pair of grey eyes, chilling me to the core and my steps faltered, slowing down. They spoke of betrayal so deep it wasn’t comprehensible for anyone but the two of us. To everyone else, his anger was aimed at the fact that I was leaving the faction he deemed best, a failure of him as a leader.

But I knew better.

I had broken his trust, the one thing he rarely showed in people or systems, something that wasn’t given freely, it was acquired through hours of grueling and sweat filled work. A gift only given to people he deemed worthy, people who had a place in his life.

But it wasn’t just his trust that I broke. With that one look, I knew he had also lost every ounce of respect he used to have for me. Respect I had earned me in countless hours of suffering through his training until I could defeat even men twice my size.

I didn’t know which loss was worse, that he would never again tell me his secrets or that he couldn’t even look at me anymore without knowing that I was unworthy.

Everything we´ve had carefully build over the last year, the relationship I had groomed, every argument, every moment of stolen passion, every stolen kiss and every word of affection I had wrestled from his unwilling heart withering away over the fact I was the one who left, who betrayed him.

I was to blame.

If he did this to me, just up and leave with no word of warning, I would despise him with my innermost being, so how was I supposed to harbor any resentment when he felt the same way I would, too?

I wish, I had an answer. Maybe it would have made it a little less hard to rip my eyes from his and walk away, praying that the grey that was engulfing me now would swallow me whole, that the act of selflessness would somehow balance out the hurt I had brought over the people I loved most.

That my sacrifice wasn’t pointless.

That I would not become my own undoing.

I watched numb, from the other side of the room how Max and Eric concluded the ceremony, all too aware of the resentful stares burning through my body, doing my best to keep my gaze to the floor, only raising my head when the dauntless started to swarm out, footsteps thundering through the whole building.

Making eye contact with Macy whose face was full of despair, questioning why I had left her, all of them, I could only shoot her an apologetic look, eyes begging, trying to lay down all my feelings to her without having to speak them out loud. When she just shook her head, jogging out of the room without sparing me another glance a little piece inside of me died, knowing I had just been shunned by another person I considered a member of my family.

My real family had disappeared amid the other members, not giving me the chance for a last goodbye. It almost made me tear up but when I spotted a last fleck of black, the longing drove everything else away.

Eric was still standing on the stage, having pushed over the basket with the knives, now bending down to pick them up. Startled, I watched him, knowing he normally would never even bother to apologize, nevertheless actually help when there were stiffs around.

While I was frozen in place, two grey´s rushed forwards and knelt down to help him, not even hesitating the slightest. Straightening up to his whole height, Eric´s eyes found mine pinning me to the seat I was still sitting on before swiveling to the door where the last speck black disappeared into the stairway moments ago. Slightly shaking his head, he turned on his heels, storming through the room where the rest of the factions just started to stir.

I watched him go, my heart begging me, screaming at me to just get up and follow him. To go home and bury myself under his silk sheets and forget the rest of the world.

Just the two of us, forever.

Before I could do something stupid, like running after him, a grey blur appeared in my line of vision and I looked up, startled by the sudden arrival of the woman in front of me. She was smiling down at me softly, her brown hair pulled up in the obligatory tight bun, clothes the grey, baggy style that was usual for abnegation.

She seemed content with who she was, her appearance gentle, welcoming.

But taking a closer look, I noticed the small, tense lines around her mouth and suddenly I remembered that she had been the woman with the two children who had deflected, most likely their mother. I found myself wondering if she resented them like my mother me or if there was no place for ill-feelings at Abnegation.

“Casey, right?” She asked, smiling down at me when I nodded hesitantly. “Good. Come on, it´s time for us to leave.”

Looking around the room, I realized that almost everyone besides abnegation had already left, Jeanine Matthews who´s stony eyes rested on my form, making my skin crawl, walking through the double doors as the last erudite.

Getting up, I tried to blend out every overwhelming emotion I was feeling and wiped my clammy hands on my jeans, giving the woman a tight, absentminded smile. Clasping her hands in front of her she asked me to follow her as she led me towards a group of people seemingly my age, most likely the other initiates.

There were only seven of them, eight if you included me, and only three of them girls. All wearing grey except one in red, making me realize with shock that I was the odd one out, coming from a faction which such different ideals that I had no idea what to do. I hadn’t exactly gotten a briefing in stiff 101.

Fuck.

My forced smile slowly crumbled when none of them even looked at me, only the amity whose face was being split in two by an excited grin raising his hand to wave at me. Seeing me coming closer he suddenly engulfed me in a giant bear hug, squeezing me tightly against him.

My eyes bulged out, neither having anticipated his taught muscles nor his bold move I almost took him out when I caught the eyes of the woman trying to suppress her smile, stopping my defense attack in the last second.

“Goodness, I´m so happy that I´m not the only transfer. We´re going to have so much fun.” He exclaimed, not letting me go even though I was as stiff as a board in his arms. “My name´s Benjamin, who are you?”

"Casey," I muttered, contemplating non-violent ways to get him off me when a throat behind us was cleared. Taking the hint to my surprise, Benjamin let go and I turned towards the person making himself noticeable, slightly tensing when I came face-to-face with Marcus Eaton. He was smiling, but the hint of disapproval gleaming behind his dark blue eyes wasn’t lost on me and suddenly I knew why.

“It´s such a pleasure to have a new initiate from a faction whose values stray so far away from ours,” He started, his smile turning condescending. “but please refrain from such open displays of affection. Touch is the most intimate part of human relations and therefore something that is to be treasured, not given away freely. Or it wouldn’t be something so powerful, don´t you think?”

Marcus eyes never left me while he spoke, completely disregarding that it was the tree huggers fault and not mine.

Furrowing my brow, I almost started arguing with him. If body contact is something so important and cherished in their faction, why not use it to show your affection more freely? If it means so much to them they should practice it more, simple as that.

I opened my mouth, almost telling him exactly that, and that I wasn´t even the one who started it but I realized last moment where I was, who he was, and lowered my gaze, simply nodding. “Of course, sir.”

Marcus nodded, seemingly satisfied before gesturing towards the door in a sweeping motion. “Then why don´t we go catch the bus?” His gaze still rested solely on me, most likely because no one of the others looked him in the eye. “For today, a few selected have volunteered to stay back and clean the hub so we can take you home and get you acquainted with everything.”

Holding back a snort, I followed him and the woman while everyone else bustled around, starting to tidy up the already clean room.

Of course, they did.

The bus ride was cramped and hot, all abnegation standing, offering their seats to the few candor and erudite who didn’t even bother to tell them thanks. For it being my first time on one, I knew from the moment it started moving that I preferred trains, especially when the bus driver swayed the steering wheel to the far right to get around a pothole, jostling us all around. Even I with my relatively good balance almost landed on the lap of an older candor woman who shot me an evil glare in return.

When the vehicle finally stopped to let us off, I was so relieved I almost ran outside but leveled myself, the other abnegation taking their sweet time, wanting to let each other out before going themselves.

I secretly rolled my eyes at them, asking myself how they even functioned as a faction when they weren’t even able to get off a bus.

When they finally managed, I wasn’t surprised to find that we had to walk another ten minutes to even get to the abnegation sector, the closest station being in the middle of the factionless district. The closest I had been to the grey cluster of small buildings was when we accompanied patrol rounds, checking out potential jobs, or the one time, Uriah thought it would be a good idea to come here in the middle of the night, ´ to check out the perimeter´.

We almost got shot by a patrolling dauntless who mistook us for factionless trying to break into abnegation. Luckily, Eric had chosen that exact day to check up on his soldiers and stumbled upon the scene, immediately ordering the guy to put down his weapon when he saw me standing beside Uri.

I had never been so happy to see him then and there, but when his face became illuminated by the headlights of the truck I almost pissed myself. The murderous glint in his eyes only grew stronger the closer he came, for once not even trying to contain his rage as he stalked towards us like a predator his prey.

He reached us and just knocked Uriah out cold with one punch, giving him a concussion that lasted a week. When he turned towards me, I tightly shut my eyes, shrinking back and preparing myself for my turn. But he just ordered me to get into the truck, gripped my arm pulling me behind him, tossed Uriah in the back and drove us back in stifling silence.

At dauntless he then dragged me up into his flat, leaving Uriah to wake up and find the way to the infirmary on his own while I feared for my life. Sitting me down on his couch, he ignored me for intimidation purposes for at least half-an-hour before leaning back in his seat giving me two options.

Either he would call my brother and let him handle my punishment… or he would spank me.

Not taking his threat serious, I let out an airy laugh that faded the moment I met his stony gaze, only now realizing that it wasn’t some kind of a bad joke. Telling him hell no, I got up from my seat to make my point clear but when he reached for his phone, my reserve faltered knowing that my brother would kill me for being out so late and so far away from the compound. After disposing of my body, he then would march to the infirmary and kill Uriah just because he´s a boy who I was alone with.

I will never forget the smirk pulling up Eric´s lip when I begrudgingly told him I would do anything if he wouldn’t call my brother, just like the feeling of his hands caressing my ass as I lay over his lap before they came down harshly.

After he delivered so many hits that I couldn’t sit on my bruised flesh for over a week, I had fled his apartment with a tear stricken face, avoiding him straight for over a month. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his broad hands running over my back, shushing me whenever I let out a squeak after an especially painful slap.

Those fantasies, the dreams of him touching me got so bad that one night I couldn’t take it anymore. After even the ministrations of the guy I was meeting casually didn’t do anything anymore for me, I headed down to the bar where I knew he´d be after a long night at the office, my brother being away to make sure the patrol officers at the fence would do their job.

Strategically placing myself on a barstool in his line of vision, the tiny fabric of the dress that didn’t deserve its name riding up, I ordered a drink. I didn’t have to wait long for Eric to come up to me, hot breath brushing over the bare skin on my neck, as he took a seat beside me, hand possessively resting on the low of my back.

The predatory look on his face told me enough. I didn’t even have time to smirk into my glass before he pulled me up, discreetly pushing me through the crowd towards the exit.

Taking my hand, he pulled me through the hallways until he found an empty room that was sorely used for strategy meetings, opening it with his clearance card. I hadn’t even taken two steps before he was on me, pushing me up against the wall, growling against my mouth, bunching up my dress until there was no longer a barrier in his way.

Sweeping the papers and maps from the table, he laid me down surprisingly gentle, latching his mouth onto my neck before ravishing me in every way possible.

After this night I knew, there was no one else for me, the things his touch could do to me eliciting a pleasure I didn’t knew was possible, something so purely physical suddenly becoming emotional, building up a bond that couldn’t be broken.

Or so I thought.

The smile on my face faded as I remembered the anger in his eyes, speaking of ultimate betrayal. Lowering my head, a heavy weight on my chest, I was startled to find that we already arrived in front of the abnegation headquarters, a grey one-story building where they held assemblies of all sorts, being the governing faction.

A woman in front of me opened the door, holding it until the other initiates and I had stepped into the plain foyer that was filled with members in grey, all keeping their head low to not draw any attention to themselves. Wide eyed I took them in, my brain being under-stimulated by the sheer dullness. I was used to rambunctious laughter and eyes that met head on, daring you to start something you might not be able to finish, not to everyone trying to vanish into thin air.

Here it was so… dull, lifeless.

There was a sense of belonging, certainly, but I couldn’t help but feel somehow small, as if my life had lost all its sense, the lack of joy for their own existence slowly sweeping into my still black dressed body, my dauntless uniform being the last shield I had to withstand the onslaught of… nothingness.

This, this is living and breathing, nothing more. Oblivion of people who were not yet dead.

And now, I was one of them.

It had been quite late when we arrived at the headquarters and the senior members rushed to prepare a meal for us, but not before making sure we all understood that it was a one-time thing. From tomorrow on, we´d have to do everything ourselves.

All the adrenalin rushing through my body had suppressed my appetite but now, away from all the stress of the ceremony, I found myself becoming quite hungry. I would about kill for a piece of cake, or fight Four, whichever was easier.

But before the food was finished, there were things to do as the woman from the ceremony kindly told us, leading the girls away further towards the back of the building, while the male initiates were taken in the opposite direction by another member. The hallway was just as dull as the rest of the building but had an abandoned feel to it, as if it wasn’t used regularly. I guessed it was only for the initiates.

When the woman, who introduced herself to us as Natalie Prior, opened the door toward the girl dormitories, I knew I had been right, the hinge screeching awfully. She told us to change into the clothes someone had laid onto our beds before stepping outside, the last whiff of friendliness disappearing with her.

Taking in the room, I walked towards the bed farthest away from the door right beside the only window, knowing it would be the best place to defend myself before catching up on my unconscious thoughts. I closed my eyes and shook my head, chasing them away. Who would attack me here at abnegation? It was just habits speaking, a muscle memory to search the easiest way out if fighting wasn’t a solution.

The walls were grey and the beds singles, minimalistic with a flat pillow and a thin blanket. Grimacing to myself, I was thankful that it was summer, otherwise, this would have never kept me warm. The only other thing on the bed was a small pile of clothes, consisting of two dresses, a cardigan, one jacket, high stockings, simple cut underwear and one pair of shoes standing on the floor.

Holding one of the baggy dresses up, I raised my eyebrow, turning towards the other girls.

“That´s it?”

Startled that I had spoken, the two further away froze but the only one who looked up was the girl in the bed beside mine. Her hair was blonde and she had a mole above her left eyebrow, paired with the square jaw she could have almost been pretty if the grey hadn’t sucked away all her color.

Nodding her head, she opened the clasp of her shoe. “We don´t need more than what´s necessary, it is considered selfish when there are people out there who need it more desperately than we do.”

Her explanation was so typical abnegation that I wanted to roll my eyes but since she had been the only one who even bothered to answer me I gave her a tight smile. “Thanks.” Walking over to her, I held out my hand. “I´m Casey.”

Eyeing it wearily, she just nodded her head, her lips lifting into a small smile. “My name is Susan. Susan Black.”

Remembering what Marcus Eaton had said earlier about body contact, I closed my eyes and let my hand fall to my side, annoyed by myself. “Of course, sorry.”

“Oh, don´t worry. I´m sure it must be hard to adjust to another faction.” Susan gave me another one of her smiles and this time I returned it genuinely, thinking that maybe she wasn’t as bad as the rest of them.

“I´ll manage somehow, I always do.” Smirking playfully at my own joke, I almost laughed at her shocked expression before I turned around. My smile fell with a sigh as I grabbed the monstrosity they called dress, wishing to have my tight pants back. “Is there any way to make it a little less baggy and a little more… fitting?” I asked, skeptically furrowing my brow at the burlap sack they called clothing.

"You can always hem them yourself," Susan replied, disappearing behind the divider to change dresses.

“Hem it myself?” I called out incredulous, starting to chuckle at the simple image of myself in a rocking chair with some sort of sewing kit on my lap. “Give me a knife and I can hunt you a deer but you won´t caught me dead with a sewing or knitting needle. Good luck with that.” Laughing quietly to myself, I realized that this time no one answered and I did my best to pretend not feeling the outraged gaze of the other two on my form, my humor vanishing.

I had no idea that laughing was forbidden, too.

"Well, then let´s get to it," I muttered begrudgingly after a few more moments of stifling silence, pulling the t-shirt over my head. Just before I went to unbutton my pants I heard a loud gasp from behind. Swirling around, I didn’t bother covering myself up, knowing we were alone in the room.

The girl in the far back, a haughty blonde with a narrow face was staring at me wide-eyed, her face turning red as her eyes flitted lower onto my chest. Following her stare, I looked down at my tattoo wondering what the hell was wrong with her. I raised my eyebrows, shooting her a questioning look.

Blushing even more, she hastily pulled the stockings on her legs higher before practically running out of the room, followed by the other girl. I watched them leave, asking myself what bat of hell chased them when Susan suddenly started snickering, quickly clapping her hands over her mouth, stifling every sound of laughter.

Holding my arms out, I once again looked down at my bra-clasped torso before turning towards her. “What?”

It took Susan a moment to compose but when she took her hands away, there still was a small smile playing around her mouth. “Don´t bother with Jeal, she just takes rules really seriously. Modesty is a big one for us and you just pulling your t-shirt off as if it´s nothing… It just shocked her.” She shrugged her shoulders, hesitantly adding.

“Not to mention that your undergarments would be considered… scandalous.”

“What´s wrong with it?” Tugging at my lace covered bra, I frowned at her. “This is modest. And for the undressing thing, it´s normal. There are a lot of people who have seen so much more than this.”

“No, for us it is not.” Giving me an apologetic smile, she shrugged her shoulders again. “But your tattoo looks beautiful.”

Smiling at her, I pulled the clasp away without uncovering myself completely to show her the maze running over the valley of my breasts down my torso. “Right? It was done to match someone else’s tattoo.”

“That person must be someone special then, for you to share something so intimate with.” Susan said, looking down at her shoes as if this simple question somehow overstepped an imaginary boundary.

I didn’t mind her question, but the memory it brought with it stung, too fresh still.

Looking down myself, I gulped heavily.

“He is.” Was all I replied. Unbuttoning my pants and stepping out of my boots, I realized that I was the last one who hadn’t changed, effectively wasting everyone´s time. Grabbing the waistline, I bend over, pulling the last piece of dauntless away from my body.

Just as I lifted my foot to pull the trousers of my legs, I heard Susan behind me choking and spluttering for air, collapsing on her bed. Peeking up at her beet red face, I realized what kind of underwear I was wearing.

A G-string definitely wasn’t appropriate for abnegation.

When I had dressed in the baggy thing, the uncomfortable scratchy stockings, and the stiff shoes I hurried after Susan down the corridor and towards the smell of food, my stomach grumbling loudly. She turned the corner and I followed, almost running into her back when she stopped abruptly. I almost cursed out loudly before realizing that there was a man in front of her, standing tall and right in the way.

Susan had her eyes lowered to her shoes, face blushing a gentle shade of red while our leader stared down at her, lips pinched tightly. Looking away from her, Marcus Eaton’s eyes found mine and I held his stare for a second before mirroring her stance, submissive.

He was quiet for a second, his voice stern when he addressed us.

“You two are late. Wasting one other´s time isn´t selfless now, is it? You should know better, Susan.” Marcus reprimanded her and I felt the unease of someone being accused wrongly coiling in my guts. I spoke up before even realizing it.

“It was my fault, Sir. I´m really sorry, I just had trouble with the clothes since I´m not quite used dressing like this and Susan was selfless enough to help me.” Smiling sweetly, I tried to sway him in my favor, but all he did was narrowing his eyes minimally, his eyes raking over my form as if only now taking in what I was wearing.

He hesitated for a second before nodding, a small breath of relief leaving my body. “Good, but don´t let it happen again.”

“Of course not, Sir.” Almost gagging, disgusted by my own sucking up, I bowed my head in a sign of respect I wasn’t feeling towards him before hurrying into the room where the rest of the initiates were waiting, plates of steaming chicken and vegetables in front of them.

Luckily Susan took the seat next to the girl I found out was named Grace, her naturally red hair pulled up in a tight know while mine was in a simple ponytail, way too long for such an updo. I sat in between my new friend and Benjamin, who immediately started chatting animatedly, not noticing the reprimanding stares everyone shot him.

Trying to talk as less as possible without being rude, I accepted the food he handed me, placing two pieces of chicken on my plate before handing it to Susan on my right like I was supposed to. Piling more vegetables on it, I amusedly listened to Benjamin who entertained everyone in the building with his story about a farmer who chased his piglets that escaped from the barn and landed face first in a pile of horse dung after being kicked by a bull.

Letting out a breathy laugh, I tried to control my clenching abdominal muscles and was rather successful in staying quiet.

But one of the guys had just been drinking from his water and choked on it, snorting so hard it came back out of his nose which in return made it even harder for everyone to hold their laughter in.

Susan beside me was failing just as I was, but Benjamin didn’t even bother trying, his booming laugh resonating through the room. I almost joined in, the jovial nature of our conversation making me almost forget about the weight on my chest but suddenly I felt a chill go down my spine. Feeling a harsh stare rest on me, I sobered up instantly, nervous about being called out again.

Three reprimands in the first day surely wouldn't do me any good, especially if they came from the man who led our government himself.

Needing to busy my hands, I pieced a piece of chicken and bit into it, waiting for the spicy flavor to satisfy my taste buds but instead I tasted… nothing.

The more I chewed the worse it got, the dry pieces of meat impossible to be swallowed so I reached for my cup, washing it all down.

I turned the chicken on my fork, examining it closely before turning towards Susan, mumbling into her ear. “Do you not have any spices?”

“It´s unnecessary.” She shrugged, taking a bite herself. To my displeasure, she had no problems with the food, most likely because it was everything she knew.

Looking at the steamed vegetables and the lonely piece of bread, I longed for a greasy burger and a huge slice of dauntless cake I knew it would most likely never taste again.

Telling myself to get over it, I started shoveling the food into my mouth as graceful as possible, only chewing the necessary times before gulping it down with lots of water.

After I was done, I was no longer hungry but strangely unsatisfied, my mood getting gradually worse until we got up and had to help clean the dishes.

They said it was the way we did things – I included.

By now, all I wanted to do was curl up on my bed but after we had cleaned up, Natalie took me to the side and into another room where she held up a pair of scissors. I knew it would come but seeing my waist long hair with the red tips float to the ground while she cut it until it ended my upper back made me tear up just the same.

I tried brushing them away before Natalie could see angry at myself for this display of weakness, but when she squeezed my hand, I knew I had failed.

Eric would punish me for this alone, not to mention every other situation I had fucked up today.

“It´s just hair, it´ll grow again.” Natalie tried consoling me with a motherly smile, twisting my now short hair into the bun that would be as tight as the confinements of my life from this day onward. “I know it is hard, but it will get easier soon.”

“But will it really?” I questioned silently, not knowing which answer I wanted to come out of her mouth. Fitting in here meant losing myself. And not fitting in would mean becoming factionless, something that was worse than death.

Doubting her statement, I met Natalie´s eyes in the small mirror above the rusty sink, hers shining with a certainty, with knowledge I wished to possess.

“It will.”

Rolling around in the bed, I flattened out the pillow, annoyed that sleep seemed to avoid me. The blanket was too thin, the mattress too hard, the pillow too flat and the breath of three people to agitating to keep my eyes closed for more than a minute. Not to mention that the nightgown I was wearing almost went down to my feet, stifling for someone who used to sleep in underwear and a top.

I knew that it was probably only the new surroundings that made it impossible to drift off and asked myself if there were initiates at dauntless right now that felt the same way, the compound too dark, too scary with all its corners and niches, all the places you could fall to your death. I, on the other hand, longed for the roughness of it, knowing it obscured what really hid behind – a faction of crazy misfits, a dysfunctional but heartfelt family.

My home.

Sighing, I rolled around, closed my eyes and willed myself to not move, having heard that after fifteen minutes of staying in the same position the body slowly drifted to sleep. Of course, it could have been Uri and his half-truths messing with me but there was hope anyway.

A gentle knock made me jump back up and my head whipped to the window, a hand pressed to my chest. At first, I thought I had imagined it but when a shadow fell into the room, I froze.

It couldn’t be, could it…?

Scampering off the bed, I tried not to wake the others as I hurried to the window, pushing it up. A figure completely clad in black stood to the side, only turning his head when he heard the glass slide open.

I stared into the emotionless face of Eric, almost hidden behind the hood of his jacket, face unreadable. He motioned with a nod for me to follow him, not bothering to help as I climbed out of the window, landing on my knees as the nightgown tangled itself around my feet.

Getting up, I dusted off my hands, cursing the material that spotted huge grass stains and hurried after Eric as fast as it was possible with me being barefoot. He had disappeared behind one of the houses but when I arrived where I had last seen him, he was gone. Looking around widely, I picked up my pace almost screaming out loud when a pair of broad arms pulled me into a dark niche, caging me against the wall of what I recognized to be the supply building.

The only source of lighting while I clung to his vest was the full moon glowing above us, giving the entire scene an almost surreal feeling, the whole world bathed in silver. Letting out a deep breath, I tried to calm down my pounding heart but his close proximity did nothing to help, the heat his body emitted only making it worse.

After a few moments of staring at the dirty grass beneath my bare toes, I had mustered enough courage to look up to meet his tired eyes. I had no doubt that it has been a long day for him too and I almost asked what was wrong before realizing that we were standing in the middle of abnegation – and that I left him.

Letting out a sigh, I closed my eyes briefly, searching for words to explain what happened today. I came up short. “What are you doing here, Eric?”, was all I managed to get out.

His body grew taut under my grip, not liking my tone as I refused to look at him again. “What do you think I´m doing, Casey? Maybe trying to figure out what the hell happened today!”

If his biting sarcasm hadn´t been directed at me, his antics would have made me smile, his harshness so familiar. But now, it just tilted the knife in my chest a little further, a little farther inside.

Sagging my shoulders, I stared at the path we´d come from suddenly finding the grey building to my right more than interesting. “I have no idea.” I whispered finally, letting myself sag further against the wall, every last bit of energy drained from my exhausted body.

“Cas,” Eric tilted my chin up, forcing me to look into his troubled, grey eyes. They bewitched me, forcing me to stay put until his words shattered every illusion his gaze had wrapped us in. “I want you to come home with me. Right now.”

Scoffing incredulous, I tried to get more space between us but he wasn´t bulking. Narrowing my eyes at him, my tone was sharp. “Are you serious?!”

“Of course I am.” Searching his face to see if he was joking, I realized that he indeed was serious. His openness touched me deeply but I knew it was impossible. Hiding the cracks in my facade his words caused, I looked up condescending.

“Oh, and how would you do that? Smuggle me in and hide me in your flat while I become officially factionless?” If my sarcasm bothered him, he didn’t let it show.

“I´m a leader, I can do whatever I want.” Was his calm reply, but his façade was too slowly crumbling. “Listen,” Eric started, forcing me to look at him when I once again turned my head away, his voice underlying a certain urgency. “I don´t even want to know why the hell you thought it would be a good idea to transfer to fucking abnegation, just come back with me. We can fix this before it´s too late.”

“Once you made your choice it´s done, right?” I asked rhetorically, a lump growing in my throat as I watched his jaw harden, not taking lightly to me opposing every single one of his words. “There is no way for me to go back, Eric.”

“There are a few.” He countered immediately, always having to have the last word in. “Like marriage.” He only shrugged his shoulders as if it meant nothing more to him than a piece of paper, while my eyes widened, mouth standing open.

“Eric,” I breathed, asking myself who the person in front me was. This proposal, if he really meant it, was nothing that would leave his mouth caught dead. “I´m not going to marry you just to go back to a place where everyone despises me because I made one choice they didn’t agree with!”

“So there´s no other reason, Cas?” Tightening his grip on my shoulders, he clenched his teeth, his cold eyes lightening up with white-hot blaze. “Didn’t you just tell me last night that you loved me? I guess not.”

His words hit me like a brick and I had to avert my eyes before the scorching intensity of his gaze turned me to ash. Swallowing tightly, I clenched my fists, trying to make my voice come out steady and forceful. “Listen, I can´t just leave here.”

“And why the hell not?!” This time Eric didn’t even try to level his voice, the power behind it mirrored by his stance almost intimidating.

“Because I just can´t!” I cried out, trying to push him away from me but he was too heavy, too strong and unyielding as he swiftly captured my wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the wall above me. “Let me go!”

I tried kicking him but Eric just let himself sag against me, pinning my whole body against the wall, his face looming above mine.

“Give me one good reason, Cas, and I´ll leave.” Feeling his hot breath on my face, his intoxicating scent luring me in, I lightly shook my head trying to clear my thoughts as he whispered into my ear. “Just one. Or I´ll take you home kicking and screaming like I should have done it in the hub.”

“Maybe,” Blinking rapidly, I stuttered out the first thing on my mind. “we´re not meant to be.”

Eric´s disbelieving laugh pulled me out of my dazed state and I watched him with furrowed brows, his unwillingness to just let me go infuriating and elating at once.

I wished he would just leave, leave me here to live my new colorless life.

I wished he would have made true on his words and just swept me up, to hide me away in his apartment, just the two of us for the rest of our life, nothing else.

“None of that amity bullshit, Cas.” Opening my mouth, I contemplated what to say next but he just shook his head, his expression not allowing any objections. “You´ve had your chance.”

“Eric…” I tried to reason with him but before I could get out more than his name his mouth was on mine, using my surprise to thrust his tongue inside, his free hand going to my thigh while his other still held my wrists secure. Pulling my leg up, he encouraged me to sling it around his waist and as if it was by reflex, I complied, my arms falling onto his shoulders as he let go to grab my other thigh.

Clinging onto him, I moaned as he ground his pelvis into mine, his member already hard against my core. What exactly about our argument was arousing, I had no idea, but felt the same way, grinding against him. Holding me up with one arm, he struggled to open his belt, almost ripping off the button as he was done, his pants hanging lowly on his hips.

Freeing himself, Eric slowly, sensually ran his fingers over my thigh, bunching up the long, white nightgown that left nothing to the imagination until I was fully exposed to him. A low groan forced itself from his throat as he reached my ass, discovering that I wasn’t wearing anything beneath it.

His ministrations turned more urgent, lips meeting mine with bruising force, teeth pulling biting as he forced himself between my hips, searching.

Finding his target, he slammed home with all might leaving me breathless from the sudden intrusion, the fullness overwhelming as I cried out. Not one second wasted, he pulled his hips back until he left me almost completely, the only indication of the next vicious thrust, the tensing of his muscles beneath my legs.

Swallowing my cries with his lips on mine, Eric´s hand wandered towards my throat, his fingers tightening the faster his hips snapped, the closer he got to release. He pushed my jaw up and replaced his fingers with his lips, bracing himself against the wall he bit me, tongue soothing the marked flesh when he pulled back.

The oh-so-familiar rhythm of his hips meeting mine, his teeth raking over my skin, the sheer feeling of his body pressed against mine making us one brought me closer to the edge and I gripped his vest with all might, fingernails biting into stiff fabric.

With a grunt, he pressed his pelvis against mine hitting each one of my spots and my body shattered against him so violently I almost missed his release spilling inside me, painting my insides with the color of love.

Clinging to each other like to a lifeline we caught our breaths, slumped against the grey building in the middle of the abnegation sector.

I was the first one to come to my senses, hearing voices in the distant, slowly coming closer. The rising panic cleared the fog in my brain and I pushed Eric away with all my strength, making him stumble, almost hitting the wall of the building behind him.

Tugging my nightgown down, I tried brushing the dirt away but the grass stains wouldn’t magically disappear, I would have to wash them later. If I hadn´t felt naked before, I certainly did now with Eric staring at me in bewilderment, arms crossing to hide my bareness.

As if modesty suddenly became important.

"Casey." Eric took a hesitant step towards me, arms outstretched as if he was approaching a scared animal. Frantically shaking my head, I stumbled backward, hands raised, signaling him to stay away, my mind made up.

"Stop!" My voice cracked. "I mean it Eric, stay where you are!" I didn't stop walking backward, not even in surprise when he did freeze rooted to his spot, my obvious distress disturbing him. “Don´t come here again.”

“Cas, wha–”

“NO!” My voice rang through the night, both of us flinching away from the volume. “No.” I repeated quieter, almost whispering. Closing my eyes for one short, pain-filled moment I shook my head, slowly this time. “I mean it, Eric. Don´t make it harder than it already is. Stay away from here, don´t come back.”

Gathering up the fabric of my nightdress, I took one last look at him, my heart shattering deep within my chest before turning around, running away. Pressing one hand to my mouth, I tried to muffle my sobs, not even caring if someone saw me in my disheveled state as I sprinted through the darkness, grey building blurring behind tears.

Letting my bare feet carry me, my mind still in that little alley I reached the window of the dorms, somehow heaving myself inside landing harshly on the floor.

Pulling myself into the bed, I neither felt the hard mattress nor the coldness from the thin blanket, the ice spreading slowly through my bloodstream numbing my whole body as I just lay there, tears streaming over my face.

My mind in overdrive, haunting me with the imagine of the love of my life left behind in the dark, his glowing grey eyes turning duller, more lifeless with each step I took away from him. Maybe, we really weren’t meant to be.

Star-crossed lovers, is it that what they should call us?

A lifetime of what-if´s destroyed by a megalomaniac plan and a single drop of blood?

What a fragile thing happiness must be if one wrong decision can destroy everything you ever wanted, everything you ever wished for. What is the thing you want the most, the deepest and maybe darkest desire of your heart?

For me, it was him. It would always be him.

That was the first night I cried myself to sleep.

I`m sorry for the long wait.. It was really hot the past few days, leaving me with a headache every evening when I wanted to write..

The response to the first chapter was just amazing, thank you soo much!! I hope you like this chapter too, even if I´m not 100 percent satisfied with how it turned out, or at least with my writing :D

Thank you so much for reading & all of you who left reviews, it really makes my day to hear from you! :)

#Eric #eric divergent #undoing #fanfiction #divergent #Dauntless #dauntless cake #abnegation #choosing ceremony #betrayal

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redstarfiction-blog · 7 years

Text

Breaking The Fast.

The response to 'Mi Amore' was simply overwhelming and on Tumblr it has been most well received piece I have ever written, so to say thank you I decided to follow it up today with a second instalment of what I am coming to think of as the 'lost moments of Outlander' that we may have seen had the book flowed from Jamie's perspective. Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/like my work. It is a time consuming labour of love and it is my utter pleasure to share it with you all. xxx

“Nephew!”

Dougal beamed and threw an arm affectionately around Jamie’s shoulders as he dropped into the seat beside him. The hall was buzzing with the sound of a hundred men taking breakfast and sharing the gossip of the dawn. Dougal’s grip was too tight to be an entirely friendly embrace and Jamie glanced sideways at the older man with thinly veiled distaste.

“Good morning, Uncle. How does the day find ye?”

“Pissed as a gnat in a barrel o’ light ale.”

Dougal whispered and the fumes that rose from his mouth were enough to make Jamie’s own eyes water. Now that he looked closer he could see the whites of his uncles eyes were bloodshot and the skin of his cheeks visible beneath the beard was dry and reddened.

“A wee bit early for such merrymaking is it not?”

“HA!”

Dougal laughed, an awkward barking sound devoid of humour

“Ye sound like yer Mam. A wee scold and no mistake.”

“Careful uncle, I’m sure ye dinna wish to insult your sister’s memory.”

Jamie detached the arm from around him and twisted in his seat to face Dougal properly.

“No, I wouldna wish to do that. She was a good lass, kind and … well ye ken. Ye ken all of that.”

Dougal’s demeanour changed, softening at the thought of his sister and Jamie allowed his face to relax and his fists to lightly uncurl on the table top. He had been at Leoch just over a week and already he found himself clashing with his rambunctious uncle. The man was loud and ill-mannered and had an air of one who feels life has robbed them of their chance of greatness without ever stopping to consider that their destiny may lay within the realms of the ordinary. Dougal expected glory to fall into his lap with the same regularity of chamber maids hoping to curry a little favour.

As a lad Jamie had held him in particularly high esteem, he was the life of every party and seemed to thrum with an insistent vitality that his own father seemed to lack. Brian was more reserved and, to Jamie’s young mind, a little boring in comparison with uncle Dougal, who encouraged Jamie to drink and dance and generally act the fool. It had taken some time for Jamie to realise that Dougal and his friends were laughing at him, not with him.

However the man was family and he had the same pale grey eyes as his mother, and the same way of raising his chin before he laughed that his Mam had and Jamie loved him despite a distant rumble of awareness that told him the feeling was not mutual.

“Aye, Uncle. She was. Have ye been up the whole night then?”

Jamie grinned and nudged his uncle in the ribs, hoping to restore some of his buoyancy.

“Eh? Och. Aye, I have! Awake and stood to attention too! Three charming lasses and a not so charming one but my God, she rode me like a …”

Dougal broke off and Jamie followed his gaze toward the entrance of the hall. Claire was stood in the doorway, smiling a little uncertainly and clearly wondering whether it was safe to try and make her way to the table laden with food, or better to suffer an empty belly for a while longer and come back when the men had moved out.

“Now there … mmmphmm. There is a woman I would sell my left nut to the devil for a go on.”

Dougal’s nostrils flared and Jamie felt this skin of his neck prickle with heat as his temper caught like a lit match.

“Dinna be sae crass, she is a woman alone amongst strangers. Have some courtesy.”

Jamie snapped but Dougal was too intent on Claire to notice the tone of his nephew’s voice. He ran the back of his hand across his mouth and stood, wobbling a little.

“I’ll go and see what it is she wants. Maybe a decent sized bit o’ meat to break her fast …”

Jamie stood up so fast it startled Dougal from his lewd innuendo and he looked at his nephew, eyes wide with shock. The air around them crackled with pent up aggression and Jamie tensed himself readying for a fight but Dougal held up a consoling hand.

“Easy laddie, what’s amiss?”

“Nothing is amiss but I wish ye to leave Mistress Beauchamp alone. Ye stink o’ drink and can barely walk straight. She doesna need ye slobbering over her in that state.”

Jamie kept his voice low but his hands trembled beside him with the urge to physically shove the old fool down on his stool and keep him there by force until Claire was safely away.

“Do ye wish her for yeself, Jamie lad? A pretty wee whetstone to sharpen a young blade?”

Dougal leant in close and winked at Jamie slowly. Jamie shook his head and felt exactly as he had at sixteen, out of his depth and gangly but there was more at stake than his young pride now, there was Claire. He could not tell Dougal of his feelings for her; it would only make the man more desperate to take her to his bed and whilst his uncle insisted that he did not hold with rape, Jamie was not entirely convinced that he always held himself to that particular standard.

“No,”

He took a firm grip on his uncle’s arm and sat him down with more force than strictly necessary.

“But I dinna wish ye to embarrass her or yeself either.”

He shoved his mostly untouched plate of food beneath Dougal’s nose.

“Eat this and sober yeself up. I will see that Mistress Beauchamp is alright.”

Jamie didn’t wait for Dougal to respond, nimbly ducking out from behind his seat and striding toward Claire.

“Mistress Beauchamp! I hope the day finds ye well? Ye seem a little lost.”

He smiled as he approached her and the obvious relief that lit her face at his presence made his breath stick in his throat like toffee.

“I am very well Mr McTavish, although I have no idea where one is supposed to queue for a serving of breakfast and as there are not actually any ladies present at the moment I am beginning to realise I am either too early or too late...”

The words tumbled out of her mouth in a jumble and Jamie found himself grinning like an idiot at her, enjoying the sound of her voice and the pretty pink blush that touched her cheeks as she realised she was rambling.

“Aye, the men are here to get their fill before a hunt and it’s no’ the best place for a lass to be on her own, many will have started on the whisky already, ken?”

He gave her a solemn blink in place of a wink. Claire ducked her head and as she did so a single curl tumbled from the carefully pinned tresses and settled in the sweet curve of her collar bone. Without thinking Jamie reached out and delicately moved it behind her ear, his large fingers lightly brushing the smooth skin of her neck.

Jamie felt the tips of his ears begin to burn but as acute as his embarrassment was, he could not tear his eyes from hers. She was looking at him with a mixture of confusion and something else … Jamie was normally very adept at reading people but the expression on Claire’s face was beyond his knowledge. A plate crashed to the ground and a shout went up from further down the hall and like a stone being cast into still water, the stillness between them broke. Claire blinked and looked away, a faint smile on her lips.

“I should head back to the kitchens then, try my luck there.”

Jamie nodded, swallowing a couple of times before answering

“Aye,”

His voice cracked and came out in the high-pitched tone of a wee lad and he hastily coughed to clear it. Claire’s lips trembled but she held in her laughter and Jamie thought he had never been more grateful to anyone in his life.

“It would be a wise idea.”

Claire bobbed her head and

“Thank you for your solace, Mr McTavish and please call me Claire.”

“The pleasure was entirely mine, Claire.”

Jamie said savouring the feel of her name on his lips, drawing himself up to his full height, narrowly resisting the urge to bow. Claire turned to go and Jamie watched the sway of her hips as discreetly as he could. Suddenly a thought occurred to him and before he could stop himself he cried

“Ye can call me Jamie!”

Claire turned around and this time she did laugh, but she also nodded and favoured him with a smile that was in no way unkind.

“I’ll call ye ‘pillock’ sit down ye bloody great fool!”

Murtagh had appeared from no-where and gripped Jamie’s elbow firmly steering him back towards his seat, scolding him all the way.

“Can I no’ leave ye alone for five minutes wi’out ye makin’ a scene? Eh? Ye have enough on ye plate wi’out being lumped in as being friendly wi’ the Sassenach.”

Dougal was sat staring at him, probing food from between his teeth with his tongue behind closed lips.

“Did ye spill ye load, laddie?”

He asked and exploded into riotous laughter before Jamie could respond. Murtagh nudged Jamie from behind, urging him to sit down and placed a full plate of food in front of him

“Eat. Then ye and I are goin’ out to the paddock to work on the horses.”

“What about …”

Jamie let his eyes slide toward Dougal. He knew he could not stand sentry over Claire but nor would he knowingly leave her here alone whilst his uncle was in such a mood and despite the compression of his Godfather’s lips, he knew that Murtagh understood.

“Will ye be hunting today Dougal?”

Murtagh asked and was met with a nod and a hearty explanation of Dougal’s aim to bring in a particular stag he had seen on the hills.

“Satisfied?”

Murtagh muttered gruffly when Dougal paused to refill his cup and Jamie nodded, eyes on his plate as Dougal resumed his speech. He didn’t mind suffering Murtagh’s displeasure at making a spectacle of himself, nor Dougal’s mirth at his expense. He didn’t care about any of it, his mind completely filled with the mysterious look that had so briefly crossed Claire’s face and what if anything such a look could mean.

#Outlander #outlander tv #outlander au #outlander fanfic #fanfic #outlander fandom #fanfiction #redstarfiction #jamie x claire

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