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heliads · 3 years

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How to Move On

Based on this request: “A ghost!Luke Patterson x alive!reader but she is older. Like in the 90s they were but then he died and she got older. An angst story please :)”

masterlist

When he was alive, Luke Patterson lived five houses down from one of the cutest girls he’d ever seen. It still surprises him that he has to tack on that first part to describe anything that happened in his life before, like if he shuts his eyes hard enough he’ll find himself back in the 90s, when he had a pulse and a heartbeat and people could see him if he walked out onto the street.

However, an unseen blade cuts a little too deep whenever he thinks about his current situation, so Luke allows himself to fall deeper into the memory instead of returning back to reality. She’d lived five houses down, right? Or was it four? Luke has hardly been brought back as a ghost for a few weeks before he’s started losing his grasp on the details that bound his life. They’re all slipping through his fingertips, gone now in recollection as well as his ability to return to them in person.

Yes, five houses down- he’s certain of it now. Whenever he wanted to sneak out of his house to go visit her, Luke had to climb out of his window and weave through two backyards before he could risk returning to the sidewalk for another three houses. Five houses down, that’s right. Luke curses himself mentally, not wanting to forget another detail. He’s already lost the girl, he doesn’t want to lose the few figments of her in his memory. A ghost of her for the ghost he already is.

If he managed to sneak out of his house and make it down five houses, as he so often did, Luke could then toss small pebbles at one moonlit window. It usually only took two or three of these interactions before the window would be hurriedly unlatched, a beaming face peering out at him. Luke would allow himself a second of staring, admiring the way the moonlight cast the girl in a bone-white halo, then haul himself up into the room.

From the second his feet touched down on the bedroom floor, Luke would be in safe territory. He still took precautions, of course, keeping his voice down and his movements quiet. However, Y/N L/N always seemed to have a secret oasis in the form of her room, and he was never once caught. They both made sure of it, and if he and Y/N worked together, they could achieve any goal so long as it was worth it.

Y/N L/N. She was the one he’d left behind, one of the aches that hurt the most. He’d been lucky enough to win her love, either through some complete misunderstanding or maybe the fact that he’d finally done something right in his life, but he had her nonetheless. Or, he’d had her until the day he’d died, leaving behind nothing in his wake but grieving parents and the girl he’d sworn to stay with for the rest of his life. Well, his promise had come true in one sense, although Luke can’t help but wish there was another way around it.

To be completely honest, even as Luke dreads forgetting any detail of his past girl, he might fear thinking about her even more. It’s not that he wants to lose the picture of her smile in his head, or the way she’d reach for him when she was cold, it’s just that to think of her in any sense is like a knife stabbing him through the ribs, reminding him that he’ll never get her back. If he tries to push her from his mind, he won’t remember the way she’ll never be with him again. Isn’t that better?

Luke already knows the answer: no, not at all. Even this one slip in his memory, the faltering knowledge of how far apart their houses were, sends a jolt of worry spiking through him. Luke wouldn’t consider himself forgetful, maybe just a little absentminded, but the fact that he’s already starting to forget his past life worries him. However, to keep Y/N’s picture cherished in his mind means reminding himself of everything that he’d lost, of finally confronting all the memories he’s been holding back for so long.

Eventually, Luke finds himself in the studio, searching through the boxes and crates of stuff that had eventually made its way into dusty corners and spiderwebbed cracks of the room. Julie’s mom had been kind enough to keep at least some of Sunset Curve’s possessions, and so Luke ransacks these sparse belongings now. At last, his hand emerges triumphant, carrying with it an old photo album. It’s thin, spine scarcely thicker than a small paperback, but for the way he looks at it its pages could be lined with gold.

Luke pauses a second, steeling himself before flipping open the front cover. Instantly, he’s hit with a wave of memories. These first few photos had been taken a year or so before he died, when he had first started dating Y/N and everything seemed like he was living a dream. There are Polaroids from their first few dates, snapshots of festivals and boardwalks and everything a couple of teenagers could afford when they were young and stupidly in love.

Luke studies these, then the next couple of pages, and then the next. He must have been more distracted than he’d first thought, because he doesn’t notice Julie Molina enter the studio until she’s practically standing on top of him. Julie clears his throat, and he startles, doing his best to quickly close the album. For some reason, it doesn’t feel quite right to so openly share his memories of Y/N to anyone within eyesight.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there. Are we practicing?” Luke asks. Julie laughs, her smile a tad incredulous. “Not yet, but I’m a little worried as to why you were so quick to hide that book. What, are you trying to keep secrets from me?” Her eyes assure him that this question is purely an excuse to tease him, but Luke can’t find it within himself to smile back. Instead, he sits back down on the floor of the studio, gesturing listlessly to the empty space next to him.

“Not entirely. It’s just- well, I found this old photo album, and it’s kind of hard to not regret leaving everything behind. The current day is good, don’t get me wrong, and I love the band, but-” Julie picks up on his train of thought even as Luke’s voice trails off. “It’s not what you’re used to, and you feel bad about everything you could have had. I get it. I’m surprised you’ve adjusted so well, to be honest. It can’t be easy to leave your entire life behind.”

Luke lets out a quiet sigh. “Exactly.” After a moment’s consideration, he picks up the photo album again, opening the cover and passing it to Julie. She accepts it, glancing at him one last time to make sure he’s alright with baring his soul to her. A soft smile traces its way onto her face as she sees the photos of him and Y/N, grins so bright they could practically light up the world. “Who is this?”

Her finger lingers over a photo Luke had taken of Y/N. She had been wearing a Sunset Curve shirt, one of their first attempts at a logo. They’d long since changed the design, but she had said something about how her boys were so official and taken the first draft t-shirt nonetheless. Y/N had worn it to many shows since then, until the design faded into nothingness and she’d been forced to get a new one. Luke’s voice softens. “That’s Y/N. She is- she was my girlfriend. Back in the 90s, at least.”

Luke hates the way he has to say that, like she’s died instead of him. She was his girlfriend, they had known each other, they are each utterly different now and there is no getting back what they’d once had. Julie glances over at him, sympathy radiating from her gaze, but then she turns back to the photo, frowning over it in something that almost looks like recognition. “Wait, you said her name was Y/N? Like Y/N L/N?”

Luke sits bolt upright, melancholy thoughts completely forgotten. “Yes! How did you know that? Do you know her?” Julie’s excitement starts to bleed away from her, as if she knows something that ruins the dream she had been so thrilled to share. “Well, yes, but she’s not Y/N L/N anymore. She has a different last name now.” Luke picks up on what Julie is unwilling to say, and his stomach sinks a little. She has a different last name because she’s married, because she’s moved on.

Even as he thinks this, Luke feels annoyed at himself. Of course she’s moved on- he died 25 years ago. There’s no reason she would never love again, and even if she did, Luke would never want that for her. She was so bright, so happy, that the thought of herself locked away in mournful grief like his parents seems so utterly wrong that if that happened she might as well have died with him. Still, Luke doesn’t like thinking that there’s someone else out there receiving her smiles, hearing her hopes and dreams late at night the way he had once listened to her.

Luke must have gone silent for too long, because Julie is looking over at him again, pity written in every line of her face. She thinks for a second longer, then stands up, holding out her hand to him. “She still lives near here, actually. A few streets down. Do you want to go see her?” Luke stares at her, then rushes to his feet. “You mean it? You know where she is?” Julie nods. “Only if you’re willing to see her.” She’s right to worry- seeing Y/N again will mean finally coming to terms with everything Luke had left behind when he’d died, a final piece of proof that Y/N will never be his again. Still, if he hides away from her again, Luke will spend the rest of his ghosthood wondering what she might have been like and who she may have become. So, he nods, and allows Julie to lead him from the studio and down the blocks to Y/N’s house.

Even without Julie’s directions, Luke would know their destination even before she points out Y/N’s front door. He sees her in every corner of the building, every flower and tree planted in the yard. She’d always wanted a brightly painted front door, tall trees in the backyard so she could have a little shade on the summer days. They’d once planned what their future houses would look like, always choosing one for the two of them. If Luke sees traces of his ideas in her house now, does that mean Y/N still thinks of him? Or that she’s already forgotten that it was his voice suggesting those changes and not her own, that he’s already faded into the last few corners of her memory?

His feet stall in the driveway, but at an encouraging look from Julie, Luke forces himself to walk up the final few feet to stop in front of the front door. He reaches forward and rings the doorbell himself, although he can do no more once the door swings open. This will be Julie’s part- Luke can do no more than watch the woman in front of him with wide eyes.

She still looks like her. Is that a strange thing to say? She’s taller now, her face more lined and weary as if she’s had a lifetime of problems to deal with ever since Luke left her days. It makes sense that she looks older- the last time Luke saw her was 25 years ago, so she’s probably in her forties now. Still, there are traces of the girl he’d known in every movement, every step. When she looks questioningly at Julie, Luke can see the way she’d looked at him to ask when and where Sunset Curve would be performing so she could make sure to arrive on time. The gesture is so truthfully her that it practically hurts to see.

Julie’s eyes dart to Luke, as if trying to gauge his reaction, then she focuses her gaze firmly on Y/N. “I, uh, was cleaning out my mom’s old studio. I found something from the band who used to practice there- they went by the name of Sunset Curve? Your name was on one of the photos.” It’s a duplicate photo strip from a photo booth on a long-since demolished boardwalk, an excuse for the visit. Still, it’s enough to make Y/N’s eyes widen, and she looks at Julie as if she’s punched a hole right through her chest.

She gestures for Julie to follow her inside. Luke drifts in after them, staring at the photos lining the walls, the backpacks flung in a corner of the room. So she has children, a family. How long had it taken her to move on from him? She smiles in every family portrait he sees, but did she ever think about the boy she’d left behind? Would it matter that much to him if she did?

Julie hands Y/N the photo strip now, and tears glisten in the woman’s eyes as she looks at herself and Luke, decades younger and what feels like centuries happier. Julie, thank everything, is unwilling to let Y/N leave without asking her about the boy she’d left behind. “Did you know him well? The boy in the photos?” Y/N glances up sharply at Julie, startling as if she’d forgotten there was a girl in front of her, too drowned in the memories of the past to remember reality. It’s a familiar feeling to Luke, and it stings to see it on this older Y/N too.

“Yes, I did. Very well, in fact. I loved him with all of my heart until he died along with his bandmates.” She laughs quietly, the sound broken through with utter misery. It twists Luke’s heart like a blade. “I almost didn’t make it through the funeral. I was sitting next to his parents, and we were sobbing like we’d never smile again. He was everything to me, and I had no idea what to do when he was gone. I wish you could have met him- he was always so quick to a smile or a laugh. I never told him how much I liked his smile. I wish I had.”

Luke stumbles as if he’s been punched. Tears are pricking at his eyes, and he swipes at them angrily with his shirt sleeve. Why should he have to cry now, mourn everything he’d lost? Hasn’t he been through enough? Y/N swallows harshly. “It’s easy to get lost in the past. I graduated high school without him, went to college without him. I didn’t think I’d ever have to live a day without him, and suddenly I had an entire future completely empty of anyone like him. There are days when I almost think I see him in a crowd, and days when it gets easier. In the end, I think he’d want me to move forward, even as hard as that may be.”

Julie glances over at Luke once more, scarcely a second away from tears herself. “Yeah, I think he’d want you to be happy. That above all else.” Y/N sighs, the sound cutting through Luke and almost sending him to the floor. “Thank you for the photos, Julie. You take care of yourself.” Julie smiles. “I will. Thank you too.” Luke, sensing the imminent goodbye, takes one last furtive glance around the house. What if he had been there, present in every family photo and every line in her journals? He wishes nothing more than to have that option, to be able to go back, but he can’t.

So, he allows himself to follow Julie back out into the sunshine of the afternoon, and when the door closes softly behind him, he doesn’t look back. Julie is silent on the walk back, as is he. Luke heads for the studio, and he stops before the photo album before glancing up at the walls around him. If he tries hard enough, Luke thinks he can see her in every corner of the studio. There she is on the couch, laughing as she pretends to smack him with a pillow. There she is next to him on the piano, listening to his latest song. There are hundreds of her in the studio, hundreds of memories. That’s all he has left of her. Just memories and nothing more.

Julie returns to find him later, and it doesn’t take long for her eyes to cut across the room, landing on the photo newly pinned to the wall. There are two figures in it, a boy and a girl grinning madly as they reach for each other in a dusky night. Both of them are long gone now, dead and aged even as their photo-selves smile on. If Luke looks back at the photo now, keeping that image burned into his mind, he never speaks of it again.

requested by @charliegillespiewife

jatp tag list: someone who i would not leave behind if i died in the 90s @underc0vercryptid

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson oneshot #jatp #jatp imagines #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms oneshot #jatp luke #jatp luke imagines #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke oneshot #julie and the phantoms luke #julie and the phantoms luke imagines #julie and the phantoms luke x reader #julie and the phantoms luke oneshot

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alicee1 · 3 years

Text

Stories of time (I)

Platonic! SBI x GN! Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.1K

Synopsis: You tell the story of the Soldier, the Poet and the King, and place the book in Karl’s library for past Phil to find. Maybe with this, you’ll be bale to prevent the suffering and pain the family goes through in their future, which is your history. Inspired by the animatic ‘The soldier the poet and the king’ by ‘Кир!!!’. Contains memories and mild angst.

Requested: No

A/n: I actually wrote the sequel to this first and this part after when i wasn’t satisfied with the sequel and couldn’t add the bits i wanted to. Then i came up with this and it was so much fun to write, and i really enjoyed it. For story purposes some details may be switched around.

Italics are memories

Stories of time (II), Rules, Masterlist

Your hand wavered, quill gripped in your hand with ink ready at the nib, although you hesitated before putting it on the paper. So much had happened, everything was a chaos, but where did the story truly start?

Simply writing down what would happen in their future wouldn't do, it would throw everything for a loop and have unforeseeable effects.

No, you had to be discreet about this. If you wanted to change anything, then you'd have to be careful with your words.

Setting the quill on the paper, you started to move, words forming on the parchment paper as you weaved sentences together to form a story. On occasion your hand wavered, memories flashing through your mind as you wrote the words.

Telling a story that wasn't yours.

Not yours to know, to change, and perhaps to tell.

But you couldn't leave things as they were now. Too much had happened, too much pain, suffering, and anger.

The words turned to sentences, turned to a story.

Your eyes scanned the words, "There will come a soldier, who carries a mighty sword. He will tear city's down, empires down, people will speak of him as immortal."

A pained sigh left your lips as you remembered Technoblade. You hesitated, although you wanted to name the male in the book, you knew the weight it would ultimately carry.

"He will lead revolutions beside the most important figures in history, take down armies on his own, before raising one of his own, an army full of hounds."

Skipping a line, you put down the quill on paper once more, "There will come a poet, who's weapon is his words. He will slay you with his words."

Wilbur. He had been there since the beginning, perhaps he started the story all together. He formed L'manburg and tore it down. He died by the hands of his father before returning again.

"Able to turn anyone to his side, motivate people in the darkest of times. He will tell stories, lead men and create great things with his words alone."

For a moment you reconsidered, maybe this wouldn't work. There was an uncountable amount of books in the library, getting in there at the right moment was the easy part, it was much harder however to get it to Phil. You couldn't show yourself to him, he wouldn't even know you and in the end it would only complicate things.

Nevertheless you forced yourself to continue writing.

"There will come a king, who will lead countless of men." Tommy. He had been there at the beginning of L'manburg and fought for its survival, seen it rise and fall.

Once more you remembered how young he was during all of it, he had gone through so much that you could barely keep count. He fought for, and with, his friends countless of times to protect what he believed in.

"He will raise nations, lead men into battle and come out victorious. His confidence will be earned, and he will have people look at him for guidance."

Hours passed as you wrote, but your quill only left the paper to get dipped into ink once more. Lost deep in thought you told the stories that were written in your history.

"The poet motivates the people, those following him, and the king. He will be someone people turn to for guidance, for advice."

Tommy looked at Wilbur, eyes unbelievable as the older male placed his hand on his shoulder. His face was stern, forced by the pressure and stress he was enduring.

"Tommy, we can't keep talking now, this is it. This is where we take it all back. Either that, or we get nothing… Are you ready?"

Memories flashed before your eyes as you recollected the events. It felt as if L'manburg was from a distant past, somewhere far away, a lifetime ago, with everything that had happened in between.

Shaking your head, you gathered your thoughts, pulling them back to the parchment in front of you as you continued writing.

"The soldier will stand by his king, protecting him, putting his trust and loyalty in him."

We have something you'll never, ever, have," a smirk formed on his face, confident and mischievous, "We have The Blade"

He had been forced on his knees before, but from the trees behind him a large figure emerged. Cloaked, with his face hidden behind a large pig skull, and a glowing Netherite axe in his hands.

Techno placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder, who couldn't help his smile growing bigger as Techno positioned himself in front of him.

"but the king will rule, and his people will follow him into battle. He will bring hope to those standing beside him, those who put their trust in him"

"It's all destroyed." Niki's mutter was almost inaudible over the loud chaos that ensued in front of them. The hellish withers floating over the area and raining down their destruction over the hole where once had stood a powerful nation.

"No, it's not all destroyed yet, Niki! Kill the withers!" Maybe Tommy's persistence was naïve, but it motivated those around him.

"We need to take them down together, now everyone!" Gathering them to head into the battle with him, taking down the creatures one at a time.

All the good things come to an end, and maybe L'manburgs end was too soon, but for the time it lasted it was magnificent.

"These people will leave their imprints on history, influencing the world around them in unthinkable ways. Although they won't be able to last forever."

You dipped the quill into the ink pot once more, allowing it to scratch over the paper as you continued the story.

"The poets gift will become his downfall, for his words cannot save him, and his wondrous mind will betray him with lies and deceit. He will lose himself in his own mind, where the end shall near for him."

The smile on his face was tired, but satisfied. Oh so satisfied.

He stood in the dark room, hand caressing the button as his father stood across from him. He hadn't seen him built the nation, but he would see the end of it.

The amount of TnT hooked to the button made his heart beat faster in an unnatural kind of way, a satisfaction he wanted to achieve. His hand reached for the button, as Phil reached for him.

"It was never meant to be."

He couldn't reach him in time, hearing the hiss of the TNT setting off around him. He couldn't stop his son from pressing the button, so he protected him from the damage instead.

He sacrificed his wing as it shielded the two of them from the stone as the room collapsed on itself.

"My L'manburg Phil! My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished!" His voice was loud, madness evident within as he yelled out, looking over the ruined landscape before him.

His companions, who he once had considered his closest friends looked at him from a distance, from the battlefield. They looked confused, mad, although they struggled to believe what he had done to the nation he had helped built.

"Kill me Phil, kill me!"

Maybe he hadn't been here for the beginning of the nation, but he could see how his son had lost himself in the process he hadn't been there to witness.

Wilbur collapsed in his father's arms, Phil's blade pierced through his chest as he laid limp on the ground.

Unconsciously, tears had formed in your eyes at the memories. Blurring your vision as you stopped writing for a second, wiping your tears with your sleeve as you gathered your thoughts. The book had been filled steadily over the past hours as you wrote, reminiscing in the old memories.

"The soldier, bound by the loyalty and trust he put in those who he deemed worthy, will fall to that same loyalty and trust. He will be betrayed by those whom he trusted, stabbed in the back by his friends and companions."

Rage filled his veins at the sight. How could he have been so blind? How did he not see that coming? History repeated itself, it always had and always would. How were they ignorant enough to ignore that?

He acted on instinct, years of training and battles had automated his movements. Voices chanted the same words in sync in his mind, fuelling the rage inside him.

"I did not spent WEEKS! Planning this revolution! GIVING YOU GUYS POWER! For you to go in, and replace one tyrant with another!" The words left his mouth without filter, and he didn't regret any of it.

They had it coming for them after deciding to betray his trust.

You were nearing the end of the book, the amount of pages left thinning out as you continued. Hours had passed, although you weren't sure how many it had been at this point, just that it had been many.

"The king will turn everyone on him, for he will never be able to satisfy everyone. He will be exiled from his land, abandoned by his closest friends, and suffer before death will arrive as a sweet release"

Tommy's eyes widened, watching the stage in front of him in disbelief. His hand anxiously tugged at the sleeve of Wilbur's uniform, "Will?" his name came out unsure.

They couldn't do more than watch the scene in front of them play out helplessly, holding their breath anxiously as the male on the stage spoke.

"My first decree as president of this great country, Manburg, is to REVOKE! The citizenship! Of WILBUR SOOT, and TOMMY INNIT!" all eyes seemed to turn to them as Wilbur watched on from beside Tommy in disbelief.

He motivated Tommy to start running, feeling an arrow pierce his shoulder as he took off behind him, away from the nation they created.

They stood in Pogtopia, Wilbur standing in front of Tommy in the brown cloak he had traded for his L'manburg uniform.

"Tommy, when I said you will never be president, you've got to understand, that was never a challenge." Tommy looked confused at the older male, his brother, the one he would lay his life on the line for.

"That's the truth. You're never going to be president Tommy." An almost taunting smile played on his lips as Tommy looked at him, the pure disbelief and hurt evident on his face.

Techno's posture was broad, towering over him with ease as he spoke, voice eerily calm making a shiver shoot up his spine.

"Tommy the thing is, you're using words." Techno spoke, for once the mask didn't cover his face, allowing him to see the way his eyes squinted at him.

"The thing about this world, Tommy, is that the only universal language is violence. And we've had that conversation. We've spoken that language. In the pit." Techno turned away from him, grabbing the mask and positioning it on his head as he moved to the exit of Pogtopia where Wilbur stood waiting.

"It's over Tommy, onto a new day, a new plot, to destroy Manburg." He turned his back to him, and despite his collected composure, Tommy had heard the way his voice rose when he spoke of the pit.

Techno had left him for Wilbur and Dream.

Now he was faced with the one person that had started all of his suffering to begin with. The curtain of lava fell back down behind him as he stepped off the platform and took one last look at Sam.

It didn't take long for the lava to entirely cover the entrance of the cell once more, leaving him alone in the isolated cell with Dream. The one person he despised most on the entire server.

Loud sounds echoed through the walls of the prison, it was almost as if an explosion went off. Furrowing his eyebrows, Tommy turned back to the lava wall, anxiety rising inside him as he called out for the warden.

"Sam? Let me out! Sam what are you doing?"

"SAM LET ME OUT!"

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so-writing · 3 years

Text

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (7)

all parts in the master list

Minimal editing. Also hit me with some predictions for the end of this and also any thoughts at all about it. Is it trash, is it good? I am curious about what you think!

Matthew didn’t usually drink much during their time away from home. If the Flames won, he’d usually have a beer or two to celebrate and that was it. This past week had him consuming more alcohol than he had in a long time and he had no idea why.

The roommate situation put him on edge the moment he found out who he was going to be staying with and his mood soured even more when he discovered they’d have to share a bed so maybe that was why he was taking shots and downing beers like he was on summer vacation.

He remembered bits and pieces of the previous night: she kissed him and then disappeared, he continued to take shots long after she’d gone, they had a conversation about moms in their hotel room.

That was it though. He had no recollection of changing into his pajamas and crawling into bed. When his alarm went off, he woke up in bed alone and as he surveyed the room, he realized all her stuff was gone.

Sure, they were going home today but damn, she must have really wanted to get the fuck away from him. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge that it might have hurt his feelings a little bit so he pushed the thought away and began to get ready for the day.

The feeling of peace you got when you quietly closed the door behind you and wheeled your luggage away from the room you shared with Matthew Tkachuk was incredible.

The past week had been a roller coaster that you were dying to get off of and all you had to do was get through this last game and the bus ride home. That would be easy though, you’d have no interaction with Matthew during the game and you knew damn well he would rather cling to the top of the escape hatch on the bus rather than sit next to you.

It was finally over. Your mouth was practically watering at the thought of sitting down in your apartment, by yourself, with a bottle of wine, Netflix and Chinese takeout.

You watched as the Flames won the game and as much as you didn’t want to notice it, you did. Matthew was playing like shit, barely dragging himself around the ice as he tried to keep up with his teammates. His personal play was entirely unremarkable and you were sure he was going to hear all about it as soon he got to the locker room.

“How happy are you to be free of Tkachuk?”

“So fucking happy, you’ve got no idea!”

You laughed along with another of the assistants as the two of you helped organize the remaining luggage for the driver to load beneath the bus.

“He played like shit today, might be bummed you two aren’t going to keep sleeping together.”

“Oh, don’t even. ‘Sleeping together’ implies something entirely different that what we were forced to do.”

“I know, I know,” he shook his head and laughed easily, “but honestly, did you think about it? I know you two aren’t exactly besties but come on, look at the man.”

Did you think about it?

Of course you did. You thought about it multiple times. Matthew had stripped down in front of you, once completely and another time almost there. There was no denying that you’d gone to bed at least once thinking about what it would be like to spend the night enjoying yourself underneath him instead of sleeping next to his grumpy ass.

You were taking that shit to the fucking grave, though.

“He’s a complete prick, and I don’t know if you heard, but I slept on the floor a few days ago, so no. I wouldn’t fuck that man with your dick.”

That response sent him into a fit of laughter, “I mean I get that it was a rough week for you but I’ll be honest, I respectfully disagree. That pest could fucking get it anytime he wanted.”

“Gross,” you playfully rolled your eyes as the two of you finished your task, “spend a few hours with him not in a strictly hockey setting and I promise you’ll change your mind.”

“Doubtful!”

When all the luggage was loaded, the two of you made your way onto the bus. None of the players were there yet so you both took advantage of the back two rows that only contained two seats each. The entirety of the team didn’t completely fill the bus so you, stupidly, assumed you would sit alone on the trip home.

Shoving your AirPods into your ears, you opened Spotify and settled into both the uncomfortable bus seat and the several hours long trip home.

Not even ten minutes later, a body dropping into the seat next to you pulled your concentration out of your music and when you looked to see who it was that sat next to you, you couldn’t yourself from rolling your eyes.

Matthew Tkachuk gave you a tight smile before rummaging around through his book bag and producing a paperback book.

No he wasn’t. There was no way he was reading that. Dumb hockey bros weren’t into high fantasy. There was no fucking way he was reading ‘A Game of Thrones.’

He was though, and you watched him like a hawk as he parted the book where his mark was placed, almost halfway through, before you felt like you had to say something.

“You’re legitimately reading that book,” you pulled out an AirPod and gave him an inquiring look, “really?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I loved the show, figured I’d give the books a try.”

“They’re really good, much better than the show in my opinion.”

Matthew’s smile stretched across his face, “that’s what I’m thinking! I know I’m barely into it but the books are so much more detailed.”

It was a cute moment, the two of you sharing an interest, but you were determined to remain all business with him.

“Why’d you sit here?”

“I don’t know,” he ran a hand through his curls, “why not?”

A quick silence formed between the two of you before he tried again, “what are you listening to?”

“Uh, Bring Me The Horizon, you probably won’t like it.”

“Try me.”

Matthew handed you his phone and you opened up his Spotify account and typed in the song you were listening to.

“So the band is Bring Me The Horizon, right? What’s the song called?”

“Sugar honey ice & tea.”

“Okay.”

You settled into a comfortable flow with Matthew. One of your pods was in his ear as he read AGOT and listened to the whatever you were playing. He didn’t mind when you fell asleep on his shoulder, leaning his head against yours as he continued reading his book.

“Hey,” he was gentle, “wake up. We’re home.”

“What?”

“We’re back in Calgary.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Are you good?”

“Yeah, I just, yeah. Can you ask someone if they wouldn’t mind taking me home? My car’s here but I’m so fucking tired.”

“I can take you home.”

“Matthew, no, you cant. You need to rest. I’m fine, I’ll be fine. I’ll get an Uber or something.”

“No.”

He was firm in his response. Your eyes were heavy with sleep and you were in no condition to do anything on your own.

“Whatever, I don’t want to fight with you, dickface.”

Matthew chuckled to himself as he guided you into the parking garage toward his car. You let him open the passenger door and help you into the Audi.

“What’s your address?”

You mumbled it quickly, earning a smile and a “we live in the same building” declaration from him.

Far too sleepy to notice anything around you, you nodded in and out of sleep as Matthew drove from the area to your building. His quick glances in your direction were lost on you and it was only when he was trying to get you out of the car that you really woke up.

“Fuck, Matt, I’m so sorry. I’m just so exhausted.”

“I get it,” he helped you get your bags out of his trunk, “you didn’t have a great week and I had a lot to do with that.”

The two of you headed up to your second floor apartment in silence, you trudging up the stairs with little effort while Matthew followed you, making sure you didn’t fall.

“This is me. Where are you?”

“Oh, uh,” his cheeks lit up red as his eyes traveled toward the ceiling.

“Of course, superstar Matty Tkachuk lives in the penthouse on the top floor,” you teased, “if only we could all be so lucky.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your apartment,” he slid around you let himself in as soon as you opened the door and surveyed his surroundings, “I really like it.”

He didn’t expect her place to be so cute, but it was and he smiled wide when her black cat rubbed against his legs.

“He’s called Onyx.”

“I like him,” Matthew leaned down to scratch his ears, “who takes care of him when you’re gone?”

“My neighbor. She’s a sweet lady.”

“I’m glad."

“I’m sure this is peasant shit compared to your place, but we do what we can.”

He stopped petting Onyx and looked up to meet her eyes.

“I would never think that about anyone. Jesus Christ, do you really think I’m that much of a fucking asshole?”

She didn’t say anything, but her face turned beet red and she turned away from him before turning back again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so used to you being awful that any small morsel of kindness is unfamiliar. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You should sleep though.”

“Yeah.”

He paused for a moment before breaking out in a big grin, “can I take Onyx up with me?”

“Absolutely not! Onyx is a heathen like the rest of us on the lower floors!”

“He deserves 360 degree views of Calgary.”

You paused, turning to look directly at Matthew.

“Do you have that?”

“Yeah.”

“I am so fucking jealous.”

“You can come up and see too, as long as you bring Onyx.”

“As much as I don’t like you, I’m absolutely going to take you up on that, Matthew.”

He hated ‘Matthew’ and she knew it. He had tried to correct her a few times but she wasn’t budging. He wasn’t going to argue now, though, because she was adorable standing in her own apartment with her cute cat rubbing against her legs and—No. No, no, no. Matthew did not like this girl because this girl was fucking terrible and she hated him.

Except, he did like her and she was the opposite of terrible and she had an adorable cat.

What the fuck was he doing?

#matthew tkachuk #matt tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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simpingfortheages · 3 years

Text

//EYE CONTACT//

CORDELIA GOODE X FEM READER

(ANGST AND FLUFF)

A/N : she be looong as fuck sorry nat sorry 😂

Eyes are the gateways to the soul, words and feelings can be exchanged by a simple act of making eye contact.

Cordelia is busy and seems to no longer have time for the reader . All the reader wanted to do was help.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~♤~~~~~~~~~~~~~♤~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cordelia knew that being Supreme was tiresome, but she never thought that it would be to this extent. She hasn't slept in almost a week and she is pretty sure that there is coffee coarsing her veins instead of blood. Cordelia has been up, keeping track of all the suspicious activities happening around the world in hopes the cause is a witch. That's just Cordelia for you. She is always looking out for others before herself. Putting the needs of others before her own. Staying up all day and night so that she can grow and teach those in her coven. She really is deserving of Supreme. Cordelia has been trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes for the past while. Her head bobbing while filling out documents and having to shake her head ever so often to keep on track of whatever file she was reading. Cordelia's new project has been her trying to track down this other witch, however her attempts have been futile. Everytime she thinks she has a lead on the witch she seems to change location and vanish . The witch is powerful and would be a great addition to the Coven. This took a toll on her, She was snappish and everyone knew it, but no one blamed her because she was stressed, even Madison didn't annoy Cordelia or made any snarky comments. After internally debating with herself, the choice of sleep won. She shifted the stack of paper that she was currently working on to the side of the mahogany desk. She laid her arm on the desk and laid her head between the crook of the elbow while her other hand tried to massage away the 3rd on coming migraine. Her migraine for the past days were seemingly becoming worse, as though her body was begging her to stop and reset herself. She didn't have a choice at this point, she needed to rest otherwise she would have crashed and gotten less time to get work done.

Y/N's POV

I am fairly new to Ms Robichaux's academy, I was "enrolled" 3 months ago, not by choice but by force. I set my mother's boyfriend on fire out of accident. YES BY ACCIDENT.... Well maybe not all the way an accident. I got angry and let my temper get the best of me. Surprisingly I didn't get in trouble from my mother, she said something about a witch bloodline. I didn't really pay much attention to her words or have much time to react to what i did,because my mother was quick to call some witch lady whose hair was firey red and the way she spoke was regal. I later learned on the ride to the academy, that her name was Myrtle Snow. I have learnt the names of my fellow sisters Madison, Zoey, Queenie, Coco and Mallory. So far they have been fairly nice to me but I don't really interact with them much. Most of the times I keep to myself and listen to Fleetwood Mac in my room all by myself. Apparently everyone has someone to room with but me,not that I am complaining. But i must say, out of everyone in the Coven whom I've met so far, my favourite is the Surpeme. The first time we met I was taken aback by her beauty. The way her blonde hair rested delicately on her squared shoulders , the way her makeup was done in such a way that it highlighted all of her best features, which by the looks of it. It was her whole body. Her eyes were captivating , she smiled at me through them. I couldn't help but stare right back into her dark brown eyes, they held power and safety. The eye contact wasn't uncomfortable, it was an unspoken exchange.

Cordelia took it upon herself to show me around my new home. It was majestic, I took note of every detail ,from the paint brush strokes done on the painting that hung on the walls to the crack on the 4th step going up the twin staircases. My favourite place however was the Greenhouse. Well, her greenhouse. She told me that it was her place of relaxation,her get away from it all. The walls were covered with vines, the sunroof allowed the golden rays of the sun to filter into the room and paint all that it touches. The walls variety of plant species and herbs that she has collected over the years was quite impressive. It was beautiful. Overtime this became our habit. After dinner or lunch we would both make our way to the Greenhouse to create new concoctions. Whether it would be sleeping potions, manipulation potions or simply love potions. We never used on each other , it was just done merely for the fun of it. I felt happy for the first time in many. The little hugs ,inside jokes and nicknames we would share. It was all innocent fun at the time until, one time I was making a potion and Cordelia stood right behind me watching my every moves. I don't know what came over me, I dont know if it was the closeness of our proximity ,the warm breathe of her breathing that brushed my neck whenever she exhaled or the fact that she kissed my cheek right after telling me how good of a job I was at following orders. After that day I can't help but blush whenever we locked eyes. Light brown on dark brown. Neither of us looked away. Her eyes felt like home, a place that i longed to be. These few months I've developed quite an attachment to the Supreme,one might even say a crush on her.

However these past days I noticed that she was quite distant. She wouldn't catch on to the jokes I made, like she normally would. The amount of times she paced up and down the walkway in the Greenhouse, the layer of dirt and colour of orange on the brick floor started to fade. Cordelia kept ranting and complaining about finding a certain witch. Of course I didn't mind her talking to me. I always liked to know what new projects she was up too. But It was evident that this one occupied her mind. When she was with me, she wasn't with me mentally just her physical appearance. She would sometimes forget about our daily meet up, some days turned into few days and eventually a few days turned into none. I didn't hold anything against her. She was busy. I took it upon myself to help her find who this witch was. So you know she can spend more time with me,it wasn't a selfish act. Just killing two birds with one stone. Cordelia would be able to finally relax and I would get to spend time with her more often. It's a Win/ Win.

Cordelia just went into her office so that meant I had basically the whole evening until dinner to find out who this witch was. As I sauntered my way to my room. I began to recollect all what Cordelia told me. It was a little witch on the run, maybe she didn't what to join a Coven like me. Cordelia knew every thing about the little witch. She was a slippery one, evading the hands of the Surpeme. I remember her saying that the witch was a little younger than I was, with black hair and green eyes. Her speciality is Cloaking, she could cover her tracks very well. A rare skill some witches possess.I laid out my pens and my leather bound notebook on the bed and started to make notes of what i knew so far. After I was done, I realised it wasn't much information. I needed more if i was going to help Cordelia. I needed to see from another set of eyes. I shifted my notes aside and laid flat on the bed. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. No one knew but i was Clairvoyant. I could make myself hear and see what someone was thinking.

******time skip*******

THAT'S IT !!. I found the witch. She was running from something or someone. The little witch was seeking safety,maybe she did need to be in a Coven. Without any time to waste. I quickly wrote down all that I gathered into my note book. I couldn't contain my excitement, Cordelia and I will finally get to hang out like old times. I scrambled off my bed and made a beeline towards her office. *knock knock* "Dee I found out how to get the witc-" I began,but she wasn't in her office. Huh where is she then? . After a few minutes of futile searching in the upstairs I decided to check the kitchen. As I walked downstairs, the kitchen came into my view. There she was. My supreme making her possible 7th cup of coffee. I couldn't help my heart from fluttering at the sight of her. We haven't spoken in so long. " Hey Dee, do you remember when we used to hang out in the Greenhouse, i miss those times but thats not the point, anyways you always used to speak about this witch you couldn't find??Apparently I never told you but i am Clairvoyant which is really handy beca-" I rambled but was quickly cut off by Corldeia," Y/N! Be quiet . Stop talking Oh my God shut up. Please can't you see that I am busy and tired??"

Immediately I felt small, wishing the ground would just swallow me whole. Her eyes were locked on mine, the once safety and calm that I loved were replaced with anger and annoyance ....at me. I could feel my chest tighten, so tight that it began to squeeze my heart till it slowly cracked. I bit my tongue to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. It was evident that Cordelia's expressions changed based on my now small demeanour. I forcefully swallowed the lump that built in my throath. Out of hurt I threw my notebook on the marble counter where she rested her half way made coffee. The only words i spat out were "There's how to get your witch to join this shithole Coven Miss Goode". Her mouth was now slightly ajar at my words. No longer wanting to stay in her presence, I turned my heels and made my way back up to my room as Cordelia struggled to find her words.

*******TIME SKIP PT 2********

Thanks to me Cordelia managed to get in contact with the witch who will be joining the Coven in 2 weeks time. For these past few days I have suscessfully managed to avoid Cordelia. Of course I didn't avoid her presence. I had more dignity than that. I just made sure that I was never alone with her. That way she couldn't "apologise"or ask me the questions she really wanted too. I was mad at her. She didn't have to yell at me,I know i am talkative to people when i get comfortable with them, but still out of everyone to yell at me I would never suspect that it would be her. I no longer joined her in the Greenhouse to help her with her potions. Having breakfast and lunch with everyone was the worst. I no longer sat next to her at the table, instead I sat next to Madison,but that didn't stop her from trying to talk to me. As everyone else engaged in mini conversations at the table, Cordelia silently spoke to me from the head of the table " Y/N how have you been?". I lifted my head and focused my gaze from my tea cup to the silver in her bracelet, dismissing the hopeful look in her eyes. "I've been better Ms .Goode" I replied with extra emphasis on her last name. You know for an extra punch of guilt. Cordelia has noticed my lack of eye contact over the past days and she couldn't help but feel hurt at the act.

********time skip pt3**********

It was probably about 7 pm when i heard the clattering on heels on the floor. Shifting my attention from the crackling of the fireplace I looked over my shoulder to see that all the girls were dressed up and ready to head out somewhere. "Hey? Where are you guys going?" I questioned. "Out." Said Madison. I couldn't help but scoff at her reply. "Okayy???And you didn't ask me because??". Madison abruptly turned around "You and Cordy need to fix whatever is going on between you too. Don't think we haven't seen the change" she commented as she roughly pressed her index finger into my chest. Before I could even find my words. The door was slammed in my face. If Madison and the girls think that I am staying alone in the academy with Cordelia alone they are wrong. In another situation I would have taken that chance in a heartbeat. Lost and confused at the exchange that just happened, this gave Cordelia time to enter the living room. " Y/N?" She spoken almost in a whisper. I swear to the ex Supreme herself my eyes almost jumped out my eye sockets . My movements were stiffened as i tried to turn around. I took a deep breathe and attempted to make the situation fall into the better of my hands. " Yes Ms Goode? How are you?" I asked, while facing the floor. " I am sorry y/n I didn't mean to yell at you, you helped me a lot on my project and I cannot repay you enough" Cordelia spoke. I genuinely smiled at her gratitude "you're so very welcome Ms Goode" . Suddenly I felt her hands wrap around my form pulling me in a strong hug. I was stunned for a while and didn't know how to react. Sobs and small apologises fell from her lips as she buried her head into the crook of my neck. I reciprocated her hug but this caused her to cry even more. " Ms Goode please don't cry" I tried to comfort her, but all that left her mouth was a small, muffled "no". As she calmed herself she pulled away and wiped her tears away as she tried to look presentable. "Don't call me that. Call me by my nickname" she demaded. I chuckled at her command " okay dee." She cupped my face into her soft palms. I could smell her vanilla lotion that she regularly applies on her hands. She lifted my face to hers, but my eyes still didnt need hers. " y/n look at me" she whimpered. " Dee I am looking at you" I said smiling nervously as my eyes darted over the beautiful features of her face, never settling on her eyes. " baby..." she whispered. My heart constricted . Cordelia repeated the statement to look at her once more. This time I complied. Did she really mean that? does she like me back?. Her eyes were watering, her gorgeous brown eyes even when they hold the emotion of hurt. I still cannot help but stare in awe. Her eyes were filled with longing and hope. I don't know who closed the gap but our lips met in the middle. Kissing Cordelia was pure ecstasy, the kiss was one of tender and love. It felt as though part of me was finally completed. After a while we both pulled away, she delicately laced her slender fingers together with mine, interlocking our hands. Both of us trying to catch our breathe , Cordelia slowly leaned forward and gently rested her forehead against mine. Ever so quietly whispering to me the sweet words," and I do feel the same..."

#cordelia goode x reader #cordelia goode #angst with a happy ending #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #fluff #ahs coven #ahs

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blu-archer · 3 years

Text

Sharing is Caring?

Just some more AU sickness because why not?

snz based

Sickie: Tae - mild Jimin

Caretaker: Jimin [kind of?]

m/m [squinting at Yoonmin] and mentions of what I’m poorly portraying as ace. I’ve never tried to write about it before so forgive any misrepresentation please..

anyway...

Apart of this little universe; Flower shop and Bakery au

This piece mostly felt like me rambling, but it was kind of fun so I’m posting it.. sorry for any errors

Taehyung sniffled as discretely as possible as he wondered through the isles of the large supermarket, doing his best to avoid people even though he had made sure to grab a face mask before leaving the apartment to avoid spreading his germs. Technically they could be considered Jimin’s germs… but he wasn’t one to blame his platonic soulmate.

After all, they lived together. This outcome was inevitable.

So he hovered awkwardly through the store trying to move as quickly as possible by grabbing immediate necessities rather than the usual browsing of the shelves. And after the desperate sneezes that had surprised him by the canned foods and had kicked his headache into 5th gear, he wanted nothing more than to already be at home and back in bed.

The photographer paused a bit away from the freezer holding the ready-made meals – something that had become a must-have for the pair if they wanted to survive living together – waiting for the few people there to finish before he made his own snatch. He blinked lazily at the rows of boxes that he could just barely make out. He would have to grab a few, they hadn’t done ‘grocery’ shopping for the month and it had come back to bite them. The few supplies he’d gotten days before had dwindled to nothing in a blink of an eye. He’d woken up that morning looking for food so he could take his next dose of medication and had been met with a small portion of days old take out from the noodle place down the street and what was left of the soup Jimin’s boss had dropped off for him after he’d called in sick.

And Tae was getting really tired of soup, despite only being on his second day of feeling like warm death.

So he had taken the courageous, probably mildly stupid, step to go shopping. They needed more tissues anyway, and he didn’t really know anyone in the area that well yet despite having moved a few months ago so it’s not like he could make a plea for help.

Jimin had been thoroughly knocked out in his bed with a mound of extra blankets that hadn’t moved from their place since Yoongi had put them there after bringing the smaller man home from work the day before. So Taehyung had just scribbled a brief note and pinned it onto his door so that Jimin would know where he was if the slim chance of the elder waking up did actually happen.

A gap formed as a couple broke away from the freezer and Tae swiftly slipped in front of it, muffling a cough into his arm before he made a move to slide open the glass top. Taehyung was jolted from his actions as something – a body, definitely a small body – crashed into his legs, immediately reaching out with one hand to steady the child that wobbled upon impact even though his own balance wavered drastically. Thank god for fast reflexes, if he hadn’t dropped his basket and rested his hand on the freezer then he probably would’ve fallen straight on his ass. That would have been almost as embarrassing as the canned food isle incident just minutes before. This day just wasn’t getting better.

He had just barely looked down at the small boy who had almost caused his next disaster when his foggy attention was dragged away to the next rapidly approaching figure.

“Sehjoon!” An exasperated voice snapped before the small boy was pulled from Tae’s weak grasp. “I’m so sorry, he’s wild. Did he-“The man’s eye widened a bit and then he smiled, losing some of the tension in his body. “Its Taehyung, right? Jimin’s new roommate?”

Tae blinked, nodding slowly although he couldn’t really be considered ‘new’ since a few months had already passed, and it wasn’t the first time that he’d shared a space with Jimin. The man looked familiar, and he clearly knew who he was, which meant he was probably one of Jimin’s friends from work. Taehyung tried not to feel too bad about not remembering whose name went with which face, he was often busy with his own work when Jimin would tell him about what happened during his working hours, so he couldn’t be expected to remember too many details. It was a similar situation when he tried to explain to Jimin the different editing terms while trying to perfect whatever photos he had done. He couldn’t count the numbers of times he’d just watched his best friends eyes glaze over with some familiar vague nodding.

“I’m Hoseok, we met a while back when you first moved here.”

The man seemed to ooze happiness as he picked the boy up to rest him on his hip. Taehyung shuffled on his feet. He was a little unsure of what to say next. Usually he didn’t struggle with making conversation, but his head felt like it was filled with cotton, he couldn’t be faulted for this flaw of character right now.

“Sorry,” Hoseok chuckled, rubbing at his neck with his free hand. “Jimin speaks about you all the time and even Jungkook and Jin mention you every once it in a while, it kind of feels like I know you.”

“Uh…oh. Yeah. Jimin speaks about you a lot too.” Tae replied, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His voice coming out deeper and with the beginnings of the congestion he’d hoped wouldn’t come so soon in the day. He cleared his throat in hopes that it would help. “The florist, right? With Yoongi?”

It clearly didn’t help.

Hoseok’s smile faltered, turning more sympathetic. As if he had quickly pieced the obvious together.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He shifted the boy on his hip when small hands grappled to be let down. Hoseok dropped his smile for a moment to give a stern look of disapproval that seemed to work like a spell over the boy as he went silent and placid in the mans hold. “I’m sorry about Sehjoon here. My sister asked me to look after him for the day and I think she both underestimates my babysitting capabilities and overestimates her sons behaviour. I was actually sent out of work for a bit because Yoongi needed a break from this level of chaos… Hey, he didn’t hurt you or anything right?”

“Oh, no. No.” Tae gave a croaky laugh that irritated his throat. It already felt rough from the amount of coughing he’d done during the night and it appeared that he was nowhere close to being done with that. Turning away, he coughed deeply into his arm, twisting away despite wearing a mask, and winced at the spark of pain that had shot into him. God, he was so over this cold. “Sorry. He barrelled into me, but he would probably be at more risk of hurting himself than me. Has a hard head though. Definitely able to knock some people out with that.”

That brought a bubble of sudden laughter from the other man that left Tae slightly bemused and yet, it was an odd feeling watching Hoseok laugh. A warmth of sorts spread over Taehyung when the man tossed his head back and seemed to glow as his shoulders shook. It was more contagious than Jimin’s illness and Taehyung couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the man as he began to tease his nephew shamelessly about being a new weapon of destruction. The boy simply whined and curled his head into Hoseok’s neck, apparently not seeing the same humour as his uncle.

“I should get him a leash to be honest.” Hoseok joked, but Tae had a feeling the glint in the mans eyes meant he was deeply considering it.

Taehyung didn’t really know how to reply so he just nodded slowly and turned his attention back to the freezer, recollecting his basket before just grabbing a few different meals at random and tossing them in with the juice and tissues he’d already gotten. Whatever it was he and Jimin would eat it whether they liked it or not. He had been out longer than he wanted to be by now and he wasn’t wasting more time on things that they probably wouldn’t taste much of anyway considering how this cold was progressing.

“Not much of a cook?”

Tae glanced to Hoseok who seemed to be shifting his weight as he looked towards the meals casually.

Sniffing lightly, Taehyung tried to suppress the desire to rub at his nose through the mask. He shrugged, his hand moving up to brush some hair from his eyes. “Never really learned. Jimin can’t either, but this is better than living off of take out.”

“I can see Jin rolling in his figurative grave.” Hoseok chuckled. “If you want I can mention to Jungkook how I ran into you, despite you clearly not feeling well. I can guarantee that you and Jimin will get visited by Yoongi and Jin with at least a months-worth of premade meals to be frozen because they heard from Jungkook that you were both malnourished and possibly dying.”

He blushed at the call out on being sick, but to be fair, he hadn’t thought he’d run into anyone that would actually talk to him or that this store would be so busy during work hours. He also didn’t doubt Jungkook’s ability to exaggerate, Jimin had told him about some previous examples that had at the time probably caused Jin a lot of stress. It mostly seemed innocent but very few could look into Jungkook’s eyes and not believe everything he tells them. Tae had only just started speaking to him more and he already knew that.

“Please don’t. I can’t even bear to look at soup after these past few days and I have a feeling that would be a strong contender of what one would give a sick person.” Against his original will, he rubbed a finger to his nose as it twitched with an itchy irritation. “I need to get home actually; we had no food left so I should try to get back before Jimin wakes up. And I am about ready to sleep for the next week.”

“Oh wow. So you really are in need of pre-made meals filled with some love and care.” Hoseok’s voice dipped into one similar to how he had teased his nephew. “Well, I won’t keep you then. You should get home and rest, but if you want to take me up on sending the s.o.s. message for food delivery, Jimin has my number.”

Taehyung thanked the elder man shakily, and even managed to get a small wave bye from the boy, barely having time to hear the small apology for bumping into him before he abruptly turned away and buried his face into his elbow.

H’EESH..hH’HEGXSHhh..

There was a startled ‘oh’ and then deep chuckles. Taehyung winced as he gave a liquid sniff with a low groan, feeling even more congested than before.

“ ‘cuse ‘be.”

“Bless you,” Hoseok laughed with a hand instinctively holding his nephew closer. He dipped his head in a small bow. “Sorry, it’s not funny. That sounded awful, but I got a fright and now I feel dumb for jumping.”

If he had blushed before, then this was him setting himself alight. That had never happened before, he’d never scared someone with his sneeze. Jimin was never going to let him live that down.

“I’ll leave you be now,” the man grinned. “Go home and get some rest. But when you feel better we should hang out some time. Jimin speaks about you all the time and I just think it would be great to see more of you… like with everyone. Welcome you to the city properly.”

“I…yeah. Okay.” Taehyung brushed his hands through his hair and took a starting step back, trying to hold back any more sniffling. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Feel better soon, Taehyung, and get home safely.”

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

HEESHHU..H’HIESHH…snfff.. … Heh..h..hhh..HHeGXTCHh…hnnxgGTSCHew!... nghHEHHSHH!!!

Taehyung panted out hot hitchy breaths as the tissue box was set in front of him as an offering. He laid a hand on the box to take it, his other hand hovered desperately over his face as he geared up for the next sneeze. His teary eyes had barely blinked open before they were forced shut once more, his throat and head pulsed with each sneeze that ripped out of him.

“Ble-e’hh-hh-ss yo-uishhhiew.. H’ingxtshh… hih’itishhew!”

Taehyung grabbed a few tissues and let Jimin keep the box as the elder coughed and crumpled into the seat beside him, before following Tae’s example of blowing his nose tiredly.

After shopping, Taehyung had managed a slow drive back to the apartment with multiple stops to tear open one of the tissue boxes he’d bought. It hadn’t helped much, and he had felt progressively worse as the minutes ticked by until he’d made it into the house, where he had promptly collapsed onto the couch with his tissues – only having to get up again to dump the food he’d bought in the fridge and freezer before sluggishly dragging himself to the couch once more..

When he’d been coaxed awake by Jimin gently shaking his shoulder, he had been met with a dim early afternoon sun and a plate a steamy food that had definitely been nuked in the microwave for longer than necessary. And from there they hadn’t really moved much, other than Jimin having forced some medicine into them and making tea before joining Tae on the couch.

There was some drama playing softly on their tv, but neither of them really had the energy to focus on it properly and Tae could barely hear the dialogue anyway once the congestion in his sinuses began to interfere with his ears. Jimin had dragged in a blanket from his room and draped it over both of them as Tae added to the pile of used tissues that had begun to form on the floor in front of them. Nothing seemed to stop the constant tickle that plagued him, nor his noses inability to do what he wanted. Tae was considering just stuffing his nose with tissues at this point. Since the trip to the supermarket his nose had turned into a mess that was seemingly draining the life out of him. Jimin had assured him that despite what he thought, it would get better, but he was sure that his friend was just trying to be his usual hopeful self. Always ready to reassure and look out for him.

At least they were suffering together. That was an upside. Jimin claimed to be feeling a lot better than the day before and it seemed to be mostly true, he was definitely being more active than Tae wanted to be. Although that could also have just a factor of the smaller man sleeping like the dead for almost 20 hours and Taehyung thinking it was wise to leave the apartment earlier. He was just deeply glad that he wasn’t alone again.

Tae hated being alone. Even when he was well, he’d tried living by himself before and it had eaten at him mentally. It’s a big reason why he had convinced Jimin to find a new apartment that they could share when he switched towns, instead of just finding a cheap single flat somewhere. Thankfully his Soulmate had been searching for something already, so he didn’t feel like too much of an inconvenience. Jimin had always teased him relentlessly for needing people but never wanting relationships, always just content with a friend to cuddle up to or hang out with. Yet watching Jimin and others grow into bonds and commitments always made him doubt. Jimin meant well with his chirps and edgy teasing, but it always made Taehyung worry about his future.

What would he do when Jimin finally moved on in life? It’s not like anyone would want to invest in a person that would never give themselves entirely to a partner... He would never fall into the trap of letting someone take what he didn’t want to give again, yet that was all everyone seemed to want from him. … Maybe he’d start up a cuddle site, or a hug program, he’ll think of a way to get the skin ship he needed without being a bother or a hazard to himself.

“You’re thinking too loud again…” Jimin whined hoarsely and sunk into Tae’s side, rubbing his cheek into the other shoulder as he curled into him. “Your brainwaves are hurting mine.”

“You’d need a brain to have brainwaves, you’ll be fine.” Tae mumbled as he ran a tissue under his nose with a sniff and yelped out a weary laugh when Jimin pinched at his ribs.

“Asshole.” The elder snipped, but the smile in his voice was evident.

It took no prompt for Jimin to snuggle even deeper into Taehyung’s embrace, relishing in the warmth despite the dampness that had begun to seep through Tae’s shirt. It would probably be wise for them both to get in the shower – at the very least to rinse off their sweat and germs – but they were far too comfortable to move. Tae felt as if his body had become moulded into the seat and the heat that was created between himself, Jimin and their blanket; paired with the medication he’d taken, only made him dozier. Even as his mind raced through various what-ifs of the future, his eyes gradually drifted shut up before jerking open with any sound or movement. Soft hands brushed soothingly up his side, edging him closer to sleep with low humming, and just as his eyes closed again there was a sharp knock at the door that caused both of them to groan.

“If we ignore it, they might think we’re not here.” Jimin whispered.

Ah…H’ERSHH! ..

“Never-“

HE’ETCHSHH!!

“… Never mind. Thank you Taetae.”

“Sorry..”

Another softer, more hesitant knock sounded through the apartment as Jimin pushed himself to his feet and handed control of the tissue box to Tae solemnly. He accepted it more desperately than he would have liked, but Jimin wasn’t going to judge him considering he’d been in the same situation just the day before.

With a reluctant sigh, Jimin tried not to shiver against the loss of heat. “I’ll go see who it is then.”

The photographer pushed himself up to sit cross legged instead off slouched down in the seat while Jimin left the room, so he could blow his nose as productively as he possible. Although his nose ached after so much blowing and he had immediately tumbled into a bout of coughing that had left him gasping and spitting into a tissue with a grimace, so he couldn’t really call it all that productive when it ultimately made him feel worse. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a yawn before considering just going to sleep anyway. From the front door he could vaguely make out Jimin’s voice – deeper and scratchier than usual – as he spoke with familiarity.

Hopefully it wasn’t their neighbour. She had been hounding them about tidying up their balcony that, quite frankly, wasn’t that bad. Sure, it had way too many dead and dying plants and the chair out there had definitely seen better days, but if she didn’t like seeing it, she didn’t have to go out of her way to look. It wasn’t like they shared it.

He leaned his head back to rest on the back of the couch and shut his eyes once more, trying to force himself to sink into sleep, yet it was now low grumbling and airy giggles kept him from rest. Irritated, he shifted so that he lay curled up on his side, tossing his heavy limbs around until he’d managed to get the soft, fluffy blanket over his body completely and tucked under his chin. Now if Jimin could get back so that he could at least have someone to cling onto, then he’d be ecstatic.

Muffled coughing grew closer until Taehyung heard Jimin call out to him just loud enough to not disturb his penetrating, consistent headache.

“Look,” Jimin practically collapsed on top of the photographer holding a small bouquet. He slid off quickly when the force of the landing set off Taehyung’s own thicker and hoarser coughs. “Sorry but look what Yoongi brought.”

Ah… so there was a definite hold on the ‘cuddle’ part planned in their day. Once he didn’t think his throat was going to rip to pieces, Taehyung blinked heavily at the various bright flowers that had probably been put together with more thought and precision than he could possibly imagine in that moment. Clearly Yoongi had decided to call in a delivery, he wasn’t really surprised. Jimin’s eyes shone as if he truly hadn’t expected the florist to stop by, and Taehyung didn’t think the elder really cared what he thought about it, he had merely fallen into an instinctive habit. Although, Tae would have preferred not to be assaulted with things that would possibly trigger his sinuses.

He scrunched his nose and pushed away the hand that held the glorified weapons. There were quiet steps and a gentle murmur from behind them that he would have brushed off as him hearing things, if only Jimin didn’t glance up with such a warm, wide smile.

“Beau’iful Chim.” Tae sniffed and rolled so that the blankets rolled higher to hide his face.

His cheeks were heated and Jimin turned his smile to him knowingly – albeit apologetic for letting Yoongi inside when Tae clearly just wanted Soulmate time. Jimin pressed a quick kiss to the small visible section of Tae’s damp forehead before getting to his feet with a stifled cough.

“I’ll put these in water... You really didn’t have to come and check on me, you know.” Jimin said softly as he walked towards their kitchen. “Probably safer to just call.”

“I’m not scared of getting sick, Jimin.” A low voice that could only be Yoongi, reassured as he followed the other. – So more than a delivery then.- “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after yesterday. Hobi said he ran into Taehyung earlier… Although from the looks of things he should have probably stayed home, poor guy sounds worse than you did – than you do.”

Jimin hummed, and Taehyung shifted to cover his head entirely beneath the blanket, trying not to listen to the couples conversation. Maybe he should just move somewhere else and let them have some space without having to hide in the kitchen. Of course Yoongi would have to accept the fact that he was entering an area of disease, but he seemed more than willing considering he was already in their home.

Tae gave a sigh and then a deep sniffle. He plucked a fresh tissue to wipe at the tender skin under his nose. It took a moment to work up the energy but eventually he was able to twist so that he practically rolled off of the couch. His knees and hand connecting a lot harder than he’d predicted to the floor, while trying to keep the blanket as steady as possible on his hunched frame. With sluggish motions, he tried to sweep most of the used tissues up with his hands and dumped them into the wastepaper bin kicked under the table, then after achingly persistent hitch started up that had left him feeling frustrated at the lack of relief – he considered the area clean enough before standing unsteadily. Making sure the blanket was wrapped tightly over his shoulders, he grabbed the tissue box to take with him – Jimin could find something else, he felt he needed them more. Then he had almost tripped on the way to his room and had muttered half-hearted curses at the blanket for betraying him and getting caught up in his steps, until finally he was able to collapse onto his bed.

Sure it was cold and probably smelt of sweat but it was at least more comfortable than where he had been lying and it had pillows that he could hug in replacement of Jimin. He buried his face into his arm almost immediately, sneezing harshly twice before he was able to bring a tissue to his nose and smother three more, breaking off into an exhausted, thick cough that left him feeling miserable and wanting nothing more to recollect the bottle of medicine he’d taken earlier and take the rest of it.

God, he really was so over this stupid cold.

#bts sickfic #snzfic #platonic soulmates #established yoonmin #jhope appeared #Tae suffers #im sorry #only a bit tho #alternate universe #photographer taehyung #florist yoongi #florist jhope #friendship?

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midnightsnyx · 3 years

Text

Forever After All - Mat Barzal: part 2

summary: three years after a devastating break up, you wake up one morning in an unfamiliar apartment next to the man you thought was the love of your life: Mat Barzal. Is it a dream or a second chance?

a/n: here is part 2! i have no idea how many parts this will be cause i have many plans and ideas for it. so i kinda want to explain something about the fic so it makes sense. the reader remembers the past, her breakup with Mat and what happened but when she woke up in the first part of this story, she obviously thinks she’s dreaming because Mat is there and she can’t remember what everybody is talking about regarding the previous days. im going to write some flashbacks (there’s one in this part) to give some backstory on what exactly happened. not sure if my explanation makes sense lol but yeah i wanted to try to explain it before you guys read this part! anyway, i hope you guys like this!

word count: 2.2k warnings: none

forever after all masterpost

Part 2

You’re late for lunch because you spent nearly three hours picking through every inch of the apartment trying to get some answers because seriously, what the hell is going on? Everything you found was foreign and you couldn’t remember anything. Pictures, clothes, jewelry that you figured were from Mat that you had zero recollection of owning were neatly placed in the apartment you and Mat must be sharing.

So you’re not surprised when Hayden gives you her look. It could turn someone to stone but you’ve become immune to it through the years of your friendship. “You’re late.”

You pointedly look around the diner and raise a brow. “So is Jasper.”

She wrinkles her nose and shrugs. “Good point, I suppose.” Then she grins and looks at you expectantly. “So, how was last night?”

“Uh… last night?” You question because of course you have no idea what could’ve happened the previous night. You’re hoping she will fill in some of the blanks without being suspicious.

“Yours and Mat’s anniversary dinner?” She squints her eyes at you and then looks down at your hands that are neatly folded on the table. “And why aren’t you wearing it?”

You feel your entire body go cold and you know without seeing yourself that you look like a deer in headlights. “Wearing what?”

“The ring?” She says slowly and then her face drains of colour. “oh god, you guys didn’t break up did you? You two are like…” she waves her hands wildly. “The couple. This could break-”

You cut her off before she can stress herself out too much even through you’re still trying to process the current information. “We didn’t break up. I just…” you scramble your brain to come up with an excuse. “forgot to put it back on. After my shower.”

How the hell did you miss an engagement ring when you were going through your apartment?

“Okay, so how was last night? I want all the details. You know he’s been planning it for weeks.”

“Planning what?” Another voice says before you can answer. You look to your left to see Jasper sliding in the chair next to Hayden.

“Mat and Y/N’s anniversary dinner.” She explains and he grins.

“Oh, do tell. We need all the details.”

Great. They want all the details from a night you don’t remember.

You take a moment to figure out what to say. You don’t know if Hayden knew any of what Mat’s plans were so you can’t make something up completely.

“It was nice. You know what Mat’s like, he went all out.” You say because thinking back, when the two of you were together he had a tendency to go overboard. You knew it was his way of making up for being gone so often.

Hayden raises an eyebrow. “Awfully skimpy on the specifics.” you think she’s going to pry more but she just shrugs and smiles. “I’m sure it was lovely though.”

“It was.”

Jasper grins. “Good, ‘cause I don’t know if I could beat him in a fight.”

The smile you send back is forced because there’s so much information being thrown at you and you don’t know how to handle it. You just want whatever this is to be over.

Whatever it is, is messing with you and you’re not sure how much more you can take because it’s just reminding you of what you lost all those years ago.

. . .

After lunch you drive aimlessly through some of the neighborhoods on the island in attempt to clear your mind. There are aspects to what you’ve learned from Jasper and Hayden about your relationship with Mat that make sense. The ring caught you off guard but something that you knew after the two of you broke up was that he was planning on proposing.

It was a conversation you and Jasper had while you were grieving over your breakup. Your friends had been the rock you needed and listened when you needed to vent and were the shoulder to cry on. He showed up at your apartment at three in the morning when you’d called him crying with some chocolate and takeout in hand and the two of you had a heart to heart.

“Sam’s not mad I dragged you out of bed three in the morning is he?”

“Nah,” Jasper said. “He gets it.”

“Yeah,” you whispered. You knew the history Jasper had with dating and how understanding Sam was when they got together. He was the first guy who had the patience to deal with Jasper’s baggage and you were so grateful your best friend had found a guy who was deserving of him.

The two of you were quiet for a while, eating in silence and watching whatever movie he had put on.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked quietly and you nodded without looking up.

“He had a ring.”

It was in that moment that it felt like the entire world stopped. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were drowning.

“He kind of asked for my permission? I don’t know. It was weird. I guess because he couldn’t ask a father figure in your life.”

When you felt like you could speak, you asked, “what did you tell him?”

“I told him that if he was going to give you that ring, he’d better be one hundred percent certain because I knew that if he proposed and then the two of you broke up, it was something you wouldn’t be able to get over. I told him not to hurt you.” He looked at you sadly and you’d realized there were thick tears making your cheeks wet. “I’m sorry.”

You just nodded and looked down at your left hand where there may have been a ring if things were different.

But they weren’t and there was no way you could have changed it.

. . .

You pull into the parking lot of yours and Mat’s apartment and slowly make your way in to the building. You didn’t notice his car so it’s probable that he isn’t home yet. You are glad because you want to find that engagement ring Hayden told you about.

You thought you searched everywhere but it was conveniently sitting on the bathroom counter. It’s beautiful and exactly the kind of ring you had always dreamed about which makes sense because this is a dream.

Sliding it on your ring finger, you examine it in the bright bathroom lighting. It somehow feels like it’s meant to be there while simultaneously feeling like it weighs a ton. Standing there for what feels like hours, staring at it, you nearly jump when you hear the front door open and close loudly. Mat calls out your name and you try to collect yourself because you can’t act as weird as you were this morning. You need to act normal until you figure out what exactly is going on.

“Babe?” He calls again and you hear his footsteps approaching the bathroom you’re in.

You ignore the way your voice cracks when you answer. “Yeah?”

He stops in the doorway and the smile he gives you takes your breath away. It’s painful how easy this feels - standing here with him in the apartment.

“How was lunch?” He asks, walking towards you and taking your left hand in his. His thumb runs across the engagement ring and the way he’s looking at you distracts you long enough that he raises an eyebrow, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you smile. “It was nice. They asked about last night.” You say, hoping he might give away some details.

“It wasn’t too much was it? I know how you feel about making a big deal over occasions but I couldn’t help myself.”

Helpful. You want to say but he’s looking at you expectantly so you wrap your arms around him and hide your face in his chest to hide the disappointment on your face. “No, it was perfect.”

You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head when he slides his arms around your waist. It’s so familiar, being held in his arms that it makes you want to cry because as much as you tried to move on after your breakup, you missed this. You missed him.

“Still coming to the game tonight?” He mumbles in to your hair and you just nod, knowing your voice will probably give away how close you are to tears. You step back and turn towards the shower.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” You tell him even though you’d showered this morning. You need to distance yourself from him to clear your head.

“Cool. I’m going to make some food, are you hungry or still full from lunch?”

“I can eat.” You say, reaching out to turn the shower on. When you’re satisfied with the temperature, you turn to look at him. Despite the affection you’ve shown him, you’re not ready to undress in front of him even though he’s seen you without clothes a million times when you were dating.

But this is different.

“You okay with some eggs and bacon? I know it’s a little late but that’s what I’m feeling.”

“I think it’s actually ‘cause you don’t know how to cook anything else.” You tease, laughing when he pouts.

“I’m wounded, Y/N.” He says, placing a hand over his heart and you can tell he’s holding back a smile. You walk towards his and give him a small push.

“Go make food.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grins, leaning down to kiss you before leaving the bathroom.You close and lock the door behind him, quickly stripping and hopping in to the shower. Knowing Mat will take quite a bit of time cooking, you let yourself stand under the hot water longer than normal and try to calm your mind.

It works pretty well because you are fairly clear minded when you finally go out to the kitchen. He’s just finishing cooking and you sit at the table while he dishes up the food. He sits across from you and you listen as he rambles on about how practice was and you try not to zone out but you can’t help it.

Sitting here with him with your feet resting on top of his and him insisting on holding one of your hands while you eat makes your heart ache.

Part of you still wants whatever is going on to end so you can go back to your old life but the selfish part of you wants to stay forever because you have Mat back and everything feels so perfect with him and you almost think you can forget about the past and the horrible break up between the two of you. This past day alone feels like one of the best days you’ve had in forever and it’s not even over. You’re almost afraid to go to bed tonight not knowing what you will wake up to.

If this is a dream, it’s going to break your heart to wake up and you don’t know how much more pain your heart can handle.

So for now, you let yourself savor this moment and try to forget everything about the past. You let yourself be excited for the Islanders game you’re going to tonight and you let yourself lay down with Mat after you eat and watch him after he falls asleep for his pregame nap. You stare at his features, running your fingers softly over his face trying to commit everything to memory, scared for if you fall asleep, he’ll be gone when you wake.

#mathew barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal imagine #new york islanders fanfiction #new york islanders imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines

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fenristheorem · 3 years

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Lance finding out that Gardienne killed herself? After a while of her being in the HQ again, he has fallen in love with her. She just couldn't bear those seven years, having lost that many people and being here just to save this world by suffering.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, he knocked her door, he worried bc no one answered, and he finds her hanged up.

I know this is really specific, it's just kind of my OC ending😅😅 anyway, I'd understand if you weren't comfortable with this.

So I’m going to talk about the boundaries of what I write for a moment, starting by saying that I will write this BUT I won’t write detailed suicide scenes due to the sensitive nature of it.

This ask isn’t asking for a detailed scene, it’s asking for the effects the decision has on Lance, and because it’s asking for the long-term effects and not a scenario I’m just fine with writing this.

Thank you for asking this, Anon, genuinely. Being this specific was probably what gave me the push to write this in the end because I know you were looking for the reaction and not the actual scene. This is a good example of a post that walks along the lines of what I will and won’t write so anyone requesting future asks with a similar subject gets a better idea of what to ask.

Also, I apologize for how long this took to write. This ask was, unfortunately, the one that spent the most time eaten in my drafts folder so I couldn’t work on it until about a week ago. Fortunately that gave me a lot of time to think over how to best write this, so I think this’ll be appropriately written considering the subject.

*Warning / Note: This post contains heavy depressive themes and suicidal mentions, as evident by the ask and what I wrote above. I’m aware that this is a very sensitive subject and I intend to treat it with appropriate seriousness. This is not a happy post, please only read this if you know this won’t lead you down a dark path. To me, writing is another form of art, meant to express and draw out emotions from the audience, so I won’t subside the intensity of my writing even with this being a sensitive subject. I don’t intend to drive anyone to harm themselves, but I do intend to write with the intensity that I always do because this is my artform; so please prepare for heavy themes or don’t read if you’re not comfortable with this. On a side note: I care about everyone, I really do, so please take care of yourselves. If you’re feeling depressive or suicidal, talk to someone, please. There is always someone who cares about you.

Technically Guardienne's death may have a major adverse effect on Eldarya due to her link with the crystal, but for the sake of this ask I'll ignore any possible effects like that.

~Under the cut~

Lance’s reaction to Guardienne’s suicide:

Lance had seen a lot of terrible things in life and had done many terrible things in his life, but this reached a new type of fucked up for him. Not because it's truly disturbing - although it is deeply disturbing - but because it fucked him up even more in a way that he neither thought could be possible nor that he could bear.

He’s convinced that he’s cursed; everything that’s happened to him has been his fault. He started the war within Eldarya, destroyed so many faeries’ lives, killed his own brother, and now the woman he loved is dead because of him as well. Sure, he wasn’t the one to tie the rope around her neck, but there are signs for these sorts of things. Was he truly that blind that he couldn’t see that she was in pain? Did he ever truly love her if he couldn’t see the pain? Would she have done anything differently if he wasn’t there to constantly remind her of everything that was lost?

Lance believes he deserves this. He’s caused so much pain and agony for everyone, it only makes sense that he should be the one in pain now. Lance won’t try to fight the agony he’s in, he’ll let himself drown in it for nights on end to wake up - or not even sleep to begin with - feeling exhausted, reckless, irritated and - overall - worthless. He’s sure to emerge from his room in the morning without the slightest hint that he’s been sobbing quietly with the feeling of a dagger twisting itself over and over within his chest all night, and he’ll refuse to answer any questions about if he’s alright after the recent events. He was the one to find her after all; it would make sense that he was hit the hardest...

In the daytime he’ll be rough and withholding, keeping the Obsidian guard in a tight hold to reflect how he needs to hold himself tightly to keep from falling apart. It’s one thing for him feel and express emotions, but this feeling is an entirely different thing; this is something that should not be released into Eldarya. He realizes it and knows that this feeling - something that he recognizes all too well from his past - threatens to destroy everything that he worked so hard to gain in the past seven years.

Mathieu will notice Lance’s change in temperament immediately, and being the kind man he is he’ll want to be there for the dragon, but Lance won’t be looking for comfort; he’ll be looking for something that will change the past and take back everything that happened. But that’s impossible - he knows that - and so he’ll be stuck in a state of limbo, deemed to mourn for his unknown, unrealized love until... something happens to change him.

Ice cold fear will wash over him some days as he recognizes the familiar feeling that haunted him in the past, and while he’ll be aching to reach out to lean on someone for support - afraid of this feeling overwhelming him again - he’ll feel that he can’t lean on anyone. He doesn’t deserve that support at this point after all he’s done, and there’s so many others who are busy grieving; the guard needs him to be strong now. However, on occasion - when he has a clear mind - he’ll grieve gently with someone who’s somewhat close to him, sharing kind memories of Guardienne and gently advising them to spend time around friends if his co-worker feels it’s needed. He’ll never completely break in front of anyone though, he can’t bring himself to.

However, Lance falls apart immediately when he’s alone, sometimes even lingering in the conference room for a few minutes after a meeting to allow himself the private time alone to recollect himself. Grief will randomly hit him throughout the day, constricting his throat, burning his chest, and glassing over his eyes - and every time he’ll excuse himself from his company to isolate himself until he regains control again. This, of course, is taken into notice by a few others around the guard, and slowly there’ll be people who realize that Lance is not fine.

This becomes a further issue over time as his grief slowly turns into anger and disgust, and this is when that familiar, ominous feeling from his past really rears it’s ugly face. He should have seen something. Was he really that terrible to her that she felt she couldn’t trust him? Was everyone really that blind to not see her hurting?

Lance finds that he begins to choose to isolate himself, mentally and physically. He’ll leave the guards members alone that have stated they need time off, but he won’t be very forgiving with those who have chosen to continue their work but seem to be slacking. His mentality is that if you can’t handle continuing on, then don’t offer your service as it’ll become a hindrance, and this quickly becomes a major issue.

Huang Hua - knowing how important Guardienne was to Eldarya, and the guard especially - has let it be known that if anyone needs a break from their responsibilities, then it’ll be allowed, but she will stress that those who feel they can continue to function please try to do so, and be lenient and take on a few responsibilities that aren’t usually asked of them if they feel they can. She can read other’s auras and sense intentions and emotions of sorts, so she can generally get a good read on how someone is doing, but she can’t consistently do that with everyone, so while she’ll use this ability when necessary to enforce that someone take a break so they don’t fall apart, not every unstable case is known to her. This is the main reason why she slightly overlooks Lance for a while. When he first found Guardienne, he panicked immediately, rushing her to Ewelein and not even truly believing her death until many days after the event. Huang Hua - having sensed his shock and panic blocking out any other emotions - let it go for a few days; everyone goes through their own grieving process, some immediately and some not until many years afterwards. There was nothing that anyone could do for him until Guardienne’s death hit him fully. However, she also knew from her abilities that Lance was in love with her, or at very least had a deep liking for Guardienne, so the instant a few members of the guard come to her expressing serious concerns regarding Lance’s recent aggression and distance, Huang Hua knows immediately that it needs to be dealt with. This grief was an unknown factor in Lance’s new life - but his past with this type of grief shows clearly that this can really fuck him up - so it needed to be discussed, otherwise he risks spiraling back into the same place he was seven years ago.

She’ll approach him when he’s alone, or if they’re in a relatively public space she’ll take him somewhere private, sensing all the while the breathtakingly painful feeling of agony, anger and distress that’s clouding his mentality. It was just the same as when he was Ashkore, how did he not yet break? He’ll refuse to follow her if he knows she wants to talk about his emotions - ironic since he’s always been open to sharing his perspective and thoughts - so she’ll just tell him that she needs to talk to him in private regarding a few anonymous tips from some guards members if he happens to ask why.

Being alone with an unstable, emotionally distraught dragon with a history of violence while under heavy states of grief does unsettle her a bit, but she knows the outcome of this will be much worse if he truly feels isolated. He’s not going to reach out for help by himself - he doesn’t know how to, nor does he probably want to - so she needs to be the one to reach out to him and help him stabilize himself before another situation like Valkyon’s death occurrs.

She’ll consider first talking alone with him in his room - where he’d likely feel most comfortable - but considering he’d likely be defensive, that could then translate into aggression in his own territory, and that may lead her to being forced out of his room for her own safety. Lance has certainly changed in temperament, but heavy grieving emotions can blind someone, so there’s really no promising that nothing... destructive may happen, no matter how much he’s changed in patience.

She then considers talking with him in the conference room, but there isn’t a whole lot of privacy there. The conference room is more for business, rather than personal, private, emotional conversations. The last thing Lance needed in this moment was for his emotions to be treated even slightly like a business confrontation and not as an important part of his being. Frankly, even on a day where he’s feeling just fine he would never accept anyone’s emotions to be treated like a business issue, so the last thing she wanted was to imply that by bringing him into a room that could do just that.

Huang Hua then thinks over the idea of talking to him in her room; it would likely be safer, after all. He probably won’t become territorial or aggressive as it’s not his territory, and it’ll be a gentle reminder that she’s happy to welcome him into her personal life to help comfort him (therefore defeating the concern that it could seem like a business confrontation), but since it’s her territory he might emotionally shut himself down. It can be uncomfortable to fall apart in someone else’s room, especially knowing they’re higher ranking and could be interrupted at any moment to deal with something else...

Then she wonders if she should bring him outside of the guard to speak with him - somewhere that’s private and on neutral ground. That way they’d both be in strange territory and may not be interrupted, and if they are they’d receive prior warning by noticing that someone was walking their way.

Of course, Huang Hua then realizes that - no matter how much she’d like to think that she understands what would make Lance most comfortable - she truly doesn’t know what would help him best, but she can be there to provide support at very least, regardless of where they are. At the end of the day, Lance would probably know where he’d feel most comfortable, so when she approaches him to talk, saying that it’s an important but private conversation, she’ll ask him where he would rather talk. He’ll be slightly hostile, especially when he picks up on the fact that she’s going out of her way to word things carefully and prioritize his comfort, but he’ll decide to talk somewhere private outside the guard, where no one is around.

And that’s how Huang Hua finds herself in the middle of the open plains, far away from the guard to talk to a dragon who might as well be stabbing himself with his own dagger with how he’s been allowing himself to feel as of late. She’ll start off gently, telling him the recent concerns of a few anonymous guard’s members and Lance will stand a few feet away and listen coldly with a blank expression until she suggests that he take a few days off. He’ll debate things with her then, and it’ll escalate slowly until Lance is clearly distressed but still unmoving in his decision to remain active, and Huang Hua will know then that she can’t be gentle anymore...

“Lance, take a few days off, for your sake.”

“No.” His tone is harsh and cold as he snaps at her. “The guard needs me, there’s so much I need to do - so much I need to repay-” He didn’t mean to let that last statement slip - after all, his actions certainly couldn’t be made up for, right? - but emotions can be a powerful thing, can’t they?

“You won’t be able to do any of that if you’re destroying everything you’ve helped rebuild in the process.” Lance is pacing, keeping his eyes trained to the ground. Huang Hua - despite her anxiousness at the dragon being so stubborn on decisions made under heavy negative emotions - tries to keep a comforting, open atmosphere to avoid furthering any issues. “You know the pain you’ve cast upon on others, you’ve felt that same sort of pain now and you need to take time to be able to recover from that.”

“I can’t take time, it’s not something I can just accept! Everyone I’ve hurt before never had time to accept the situation before I made it worse, but they still pushed forward! There’s no reason for me to have it any easier!”

“And where would we be if we treated you the same way you used to treat the world? Would we be any better than how you used to be?”

Lance stops pacing but his eyes remain on the ground, his throat constricting as his thoughts run rampant. Would they be the same as how he used to be if they allowed him to keep running himself this way? He’s done terrible things, but he’s spent many years trying to keep that from happening again. Certainly he’s an asset to the guard now, so would it be cruel of them to ignore his distress? Or would it be justified payback for everything he’s done?

“Lance, you’ve done wonderful things the past seven years, and we want you to continue that and I know you want to continue that as well. Take some time off so you can do that without destroying yourself or your environment. Don’t ignore your pain like it’s nothing - it’s not nothing, and you have the resources to deal with it in a better way now. Use those resources, Lance, it’ll help you work your way through this.” Huang Hua’s tone is gentle and soft as she pleads with him, hoping that her blunt words will reach his common sense.

He tries to argue this, stuttering the beginning of sentences to try and disprove her point, grasping for any reason as to why his pain is invalid. However, Lance finds that there’s no sound argument against Huang Hua’s words, and constricting panic, horror, and then heavy tides of grief will hit him as he realizes that he is, in fact, dragging himself into his own downfall. He is his own worst enemy, once again.

In any manner, this is all his fault - his past actions, Guardienne’s distress of what’s changed that lead to her death, his emotional isolation, and disruption of the guard is all because he doesn’t know how to deal with himself and his abyss of emotions. How did this happen to him? He was never the type of person to deny and hide away his emotions, so how is it he ended up caging himself like this when under personal grief? Is it because the situation is so personal to him that he has a hard time allowing himself to seek comfort in others who likely couldn’t understand?

Lance will fall apart at this, closing his eyes and turning towards the ground to keep himself together, but falling apart all the same as grief overwhelms him one final time in a push that throws him over the edge. He’ll clench his fist and bow his head, bringing it over his mouth as he desperately tries to steady his breathing, to no avail as tears find their way from his eyes and his chest heaves in quieted sobs.

Huang Hua will lurch forward to comfort him, but stops as Lance whirls around to step back and snap at her - he didn’t want comfort, he wanted her back!

“Where were you for her!? Why didn’t anyone else see her pain!?” His eyes are tragedy and desperation underneath the weakened cold anger of ice blue, a faint few tears streaking down his face as his voice - thunderous and howling - cracks and breaks alongside his crumbling rage. If he couldn’t have fixed this, then someone else could have - why didn’t anyone fix this!?

“You know it’s not morally correct to monitor everyone’s private emotions all the time. What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t allow my people their privacy?” Huang Hua stills and clasps her hands together at her waist, understanding Lance’s outward anger. However, she realized his statement signaled something else as well; Lance could no longer fight why he should allow himself to grieve, so he was desperately clinging onto some semblance of needing to be distant by turning it to be someone’s fault - someone that he could hate. “You are right in a way; of the many people who knew her, someone might have been able to catch how torn up she felt, but people who wish to hide their pain, or spend so long hiding their pain that it becomes a part of who they are, learn how to hide their pain in ways too complex for others to realize. And, Lance, if she didn’t want anyone to know about her grief, there wouldn’t have been much that I could have done anyways.”

“You could have helped her!” The dragon’s voice was weakening as he spoke, distant anger being replaced by a cold, hollow emptiness as he realized the truth in Huang Hua’s words.

“Only if she was ready for that help. You can’t force someone to accept help, you can only wait for them to allow themselves to be helped.”

“She wouldn’t want me to find relief during this time...” He looked away toward the ground and hung his head, blinking rapidly as he began to heave for breath. There must be a reason why he shouldn’t be allowed to feel this way .

“Do you think she would have wanted everything good you did - whether she knows what you did or not - to be destroyed because of your grief for her?” Lance’s eyes squinted closed and he tilted his head a bit further away from the phoenix. It seemed as though every reminder of everything good he’s done continues to leave him with a hollow chest. “I think if she witnessed firsthand everything you’ve done the past seven years she would have thought very differently about you now than what she did when first having woken up from the crystal.”

Lance turns to face his back towards her, resting a palm on his forehead before brushing his fingers back through his hair as a tremble rolls through him. He could feel pressure rising from his throat as he bared his teeth in an agonized snarl before parting his mouth to silently gasp for air. His head tilted back to look at the sky, only for a few tears to fall from his eyes when he releases a shaky breath.

“Lance, your situation with her was very unique - no one else could begin to understand exactly what you’re feeling from your history with her. Take some time so you can understand it - and fix, or do, or feel whatever you need to - so you can carry forward knowing yourself better.”

He wanted to fight her statement, but his moral compass argued with his resistance on this as well. If anything, of whatever terrible things came as a result of her death, there should be some good sought from it as well. What’s the point of accepting a tragedy if not to learn something from it as well, even if it’s something quiet that no one else knows you learned?

For the first time in a long while - if not ever - Lance allows himself to break and be comforted. He lets himself embrace the burning, stinging pain that rises in his chest as he turns his head back to the ground and collapses on his knees. Huang Hua immediately reacts and is by his side in moments, on her knees and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder as she leans against him slightly. Sobs escape his throat as his body tenses and curls forward slightly, bracing a hand on the ground to steady himself as tremulous waves of emotions - any and all emotions that could possibly be named - wash over him and leave him gasping for air.

“I miss her, too.” Huang Hua’s voice shakes now as she leans further against the dragon, bringing her arms as far around him as she can while her head rests against his shoulder, away from the spines on his pauldrons. Lance brings his other hand up and tightly grasps the forearm reaching across his chest.

Huang Hua had spent so much time trying to help others through this that she had completely forgotten to make sure she was alright as well, and seeing Lance - the man she least expected to be torn apart by this situation - completely break and fall apart before her eyes reminded her of the true depth of their loss. They didn’t just lose Eldarya’s savior, they had lost a friend, a great warrior, one of the last angels, someone who was pure at heart and wasn’t afraid to face the darkness of life without so much as a blink of hesitation. They had lost someone who gave everything for the world, and suffered because of it.

Minutes merged until they were unsure of how long they spent in the fields, but in time both of them calmed down. Lance - now able to think clearer on the subject - began to reflect on the situation.

“This wasn’t her fault... the blame is on all of us, for not having seen anything... but she must have known that someone would have been there for her if they knew how much she was hurting...” He murmured this quietly, waves of shame washing over him again as he realized he was perhaps pinning some of the blame on Guardienne. Was there really anyone to blame here? She must have known that someone would have been there for her if she sought help, but it’s not right for others to pry into the personal life of another if the intrusion is unwelcomed, and who was to say she wanted help in the first place? Had she given up? Would anyone have been able to stop her to begin with? Who was to blame, if there was anyone?

“There’s nothing we can do now except honor her and move forward.” Huang Hua whispered back with a shaky voice and Lance faintly nodded his head. There were many things that worked together to lead to this happening, and in between there also were moments where something could have helped deter it, both by her doing and by others. At the root core, everyone and anyone could have helped stop this in some way, even if it was by giving her a small passing smile that could have helped remind her that there is good and hope in the world, but there’s also no guarantee that anyone could have stopped it. Regardless, this is how things happened. They can’t change the past, but they can move forward with her in mind and learn from this.

Lance - despite his heavy grief and complex emotions on everything - begins to soften himself to the situation. He’s not the only one grieving. His situation may have been the most complicated, but he’s still in the same boat as everyone else. He doesn’t feel the need to sob alongside the others anymore, but he does find that whenever the group he’s in begins to fall apart into wailing, he’ll bow his head and won’t hide the obvious pain that he’s in at the reminder of his lost love. His feelings for Guardienne will be kept quiet, and he won’t openly say how he felt about her - it could still be seen as wrong in the opinion of some people for him to have fallen in love with the same woman he hurt so much, especially knowing her pain is what led to her death - but he won’t deny the truth of his feelings to those who caught on somehow. Lance will find that he’ll slowly begin to mend after this death, many months after of course, but it’ll happen, and in some ways this will help him move past his brother’s death as well. After all, in the end both Guardienne and Valkyon came to accept their final moments in life before allowing Lance’s past actions to bring about their end, and although one chose to die to help mend him and the other chose to die to help relieve herself, the root issue of the situation that led to their death was still very similar. He’ll have a hard time allowing himself to move past the fact that his actions played a major part in both deaths, but he realizes in time that that’s what happens when someone has a violent past. It’ll haunt for many years, and the effects of it can never be reversed, but in the end this only inspires him to work harder to provide a better world. Maybe he can’t erase what he did, but he can make sure it doesn’t happen again and work to provide Eldarya with as much good as he can provide now.

Without a doubt Guardienne’s death hits him hard, but he’ll be sure to come back twice as strong from this.

I hope you like this, Anon! I feel Guardienne’s suicide would definitely hit Lance hard and remind him subtly of Valkyon’s death, but I don’t see Lance being held down by this for too long. He’d heavily grieve for her for a good while before he eventually finds himself standing on two feet again and powering his way through life, if not for his own sake then for the sake of others, both alive and dead.

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

#Eldarya ANE #eldarya lance #fenristheorem writing #askfenris

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bloodfromthethorn · 3 years

Text

The past is never dead. It’s not even past

Bozer and Riley knew, logically, that Mac and Jack would share some bad memories. They weren't expecting to stumble across one while they were busy planning some R&R over the Pacific Ocean.

Also on AO3 ->

Bozer was still getting used to the idea of going on actual, honest-to-god missions for a US government covert agency, but even he had to admit, this one sounded pretty simple. Mac and Jack apparently had some sort of aversion to the word - the instant Riley had said it earlier, the pair of them had looked a heartbeat away from running for the hills - but all of them had had to agree that being tasked to fly to the other side of the world and sit around surveilling a suspected dead drop was about as plain sailing as it was ever going to get. They didn’t even have to confront anyone who approached said dead drop, just record and report it.

The result was, unsurprisingly, Riley and Bozer planning what they were going to do with the ample free time they were sure to have. Jack had initially made some attempt at reining them in, reminding them that as easy as it may seem, they were going there to do some actual work, but he’d given up some time ago and now seemed content to listen to them plotting in peace. Amused, Mac had just watched the whole conversation play out without a word.

It wasn’t until Bozer and Riley had spent a solid ten minutes arguing about the possible pros and cons of a natural mud spa that the blonde figured it was time to intervene. “You two know that at most Matty’s going to give us a few hours of R&R before she calls us home. All of this planning is going to go to waste.”

“If that,” Jack put in with only a touch of sullenness. “Remember that time in Trinidad? We didn’t even get a full ten minutes before we had to be back on the plane.”

Mac wrinkled his nose at the memory. His recollection was foggy given that they had more or less crawled back to the landing strip and then passed out the instant they were off the ground, but then, that was really the point Jack was making. “Right? Just saying you shouldn’t get your hopes too high.”

Bozer scowled at them both. “You two have absolutely no faith. I have no idea why Matty thinks all four of us should be on this mission but I for one fully intend to make the most of it. If you want to sit back and be negative, that’s on you.” He let that indictment hang in the air for a minute, then bumped his shoulder against Mac’s. “'Sides, you’re supposed to be helping! You must know all the best sights, right?”

Unexpectedly, that earned him a confused frown. “Should I? Why? I’ve never even been to Fiji.”

Across from them, sprawled out carelessly against his seat, Jack suddenly went rigid. The change was sharp enough that all three of them picked up on it even though the man hadn’t actually moved, staying exactly where he was like a bug under a microscope. Bozer cast a quick glance at Riley but she looked every bit as lost as he did.

Fortunately, Mac was apparently more clued in. “When was I in Fiji, Jack?” He asked quietly, his voice very gentle.

For a very long moment there was no response. Bozer considered answering the question - he’d asked Mac about tourist attractions in the first place because he remembered Mac had holidayed in the South Pacific with Nikki three summers ago - but he’d gotten the sense that maybe this wasn’t a conversation he should involve himself with. Jack still hadn’t so much as twitched and he could feel Mac tensing up beside him.

Eventually, Jack answered with a heavy sigh. “July 2015.”

A short pause. “Ah,” Mac said quietly, his eyes darting to an unremarkable spot on the floor for a second before jumping back to Jack.

The pair of them fell silent, Jack glaring sharply at the ceiling of the plane cabin while Mac watched him steadily. Evidently something significant had just happened, and Bozer had a sneaking suspicion he was at fault for whatever it was, but he didn’t think he could just leave it there. Apparently, neither could Riley. “What happened in July 2015?”

Predictably there was no response, so Bozer offered her the little that he knew. “Mac went on a ‘work trip’,” he said with quotation marks. “I thought he was in Cleveland. Then just when he was due to come home, Nikki called me. Said they were taking a last minute vacation to Fiji and I shouldn’t expect them back for another two weeks. Ended up being gone most of a month.”

At the time, it hadn’t been that weird. Logically he understood that it might sound strange to most people, but Mac had always been a somewhat inconsistent presence in Bozer’s life, even when they were kids. It was just the way he worked: Mac would go where his brain took him and he wouldn’t stop until he’d achieved whatever it was he was hoping to do. In hindsight, that long standing pattern of behaviour must have been a godsend when Mac had joined DXS and Bozer had become part of his cover.

But that was then. Now, he knew the truth of those strangely frequent, unpredictable work trips - except in all the ways that he didn’t. “I take it you weren’t in Fiji,” he asked slowly.

Mac didn’t look away from where Jack was still frozen. “No.”

“Where were you?”

He hummed. “Not entirely sure, to be honest. I think I wound up somewhere in the Ural mountains.”

Bozer tried to work out the most delicate way of asking further and found none. The deadened tone of Mac’s voice would have made it very clear it wasn’t a happy memory even if the fact that he apparently hadn’t known where he was hadn’t given it away, and his eyes hadn’t drifted from where Jack was looking more and more strained.

As Bozer floundered, Riley pressed on. “A mission gone bad?”

“In the worst way,” Mac agreed, then seemed to come awake from some reverie. He blinked, and finally looked away from his partner to take the two of them in. Whatever it was he saw on their faces, he visibly made an effort to make himself smile and relax, shaking off the grim set of his shoulders like an unwanted coat. “We were in Minsk, tasked with surveillance on a human trafficker. Turned out that he was more well-connected than we thought, and some of his friends ended up grabbing me out of our hotel room.” His voice faltered ever so slightly and he bit off whatever he was about to say next.

Bozer did some quick maths and came up feeling ill. “You were gone for a month.”

“I wasn’t with them the whole time,” Mac hurried to reassure, immediately seeing what Boze was getting at. “Jack caught up with me after about ten days.”

“It was too fucking long,” Jack murmured, the first thing he’d said in over a minute. He still hadn’t moved, but he was wearing one of the darkest expressions Bozer had ever seen on his face. “Should have got there sooner. Should never have let them take you in the first place.”

“It wasn’t your fault Jack,” Mac said with the air of someone who had already said it a thousand times, but was willing to repeat it for as long as necessary. “You were on the other side of the city when they found us. We didn’t even know that they knew we were there.” He glanced back at Bozer to explain, “Someone at the CIA leaked information. The target wasn’t supposed to have any idea there were agents in the city, but somehow his guys knew exactly what hotel room to hit. We didn’t get any warning.”

“I knew something was bogus,” Jack said, more to himself than anything. “I said it felt off, and then I fucked off and left you in that hotel on your own.”

“Instinct isn’t everything. We had no reason to suspect the hotel wasn’t safe.”

Jack shook his head sharply and said nothing more. Mac sighed, but didn’t press.

Thoroughly thrown for a loop and feeling more than a little bit guilty for inadvertently touching on what was so obviously a sore point, Bozer cast a wild-eyed look at Riley. She looked little better than he felt, pale in the harsh white of the plane’s overhead lighting. They’d both known that, in theory, Mac and Jack both had years of service behind them and that those years were likely to be host to any number of bad memories, but to have the knowledge of that so suddenly and specifically confirmed was a lot to take in.

“If you were- there for ten days,” Boze started slowly, half-knowing the answer and needing to hear it anyway, “Why were you gone for so long?”

Mac glanced back down at the floor, looking distinctly uncomfortable before he settled himself. “I was in medical for a bit. Once I could shake the oxygen mask, I moved into Jack’s apartment for a few weeks. I would have been good to come home but there was- bruising.” He fumbled over the last word, waving a distracted hand at his face as though that explained anything.

For the first time since they’d broached the topic, Jack moved. He jerked to his feet with a strange lurching step, as though he hadn’t expected to do it himself, then marched towards the back of the plane, shaking his head as he went. Bozer caught the tail end of some dark mutters, but he couldn’t make anything out past the stormcloud of Jack’s expression. Startled, Riley shifted forwards to go after him, but Mac just waved her down, watching Jack’s retreating back with a careful eye before turning back to the two of them.

“He’s okay,” he said, as though that was in any way believable. “It’s not a great memory, for either of us. Despite what it sounds like, he got the worse end of the deal.”

Riley’s eyebrows rose. “You were in captivity for ten days and he had the hard time?”

“I knew he would come after me. He didn’t know what he would find when he got there,” Mac said with a shrug. He’d said it flippantly, like it was some great truth of the universe that was just the Way Things Were. Maybe to him, it was. “Sure, physically I was a mess, but that stuff heals. If I had the choice again, I wouldn’t have switched places with him for anything.”

Bozer was shaking his head slowly, trying to remember details he had brushed off as unimportant years ago. “I remember you coming home. There were bandages on your arm.” A pause, then, accusingly, “You said you got got by a jellyfish.”

Looking down, Mac tugged self-consciously at the cuff of his rolled-up left sleeve, only managing to draw attention to what he was trying to keep hidden. They were faint - so faint as to be almost invisible against his already pale skin - but for the first time Bozer was able to make out a fine tracery of scars marring the skin of his forearm like a spider’s web, twisting all the way from his wrist to beneath the fabric of his shirt. “Jesus, Mac,” Riley breathed.

“Electrical burns,” he offered as the explanation they wouldn��t have asked for. Catching their thunderstruck looks, he shifted his expression to what he probably imagined was reassuring. “It looks worse than it was, mostly; being shocked hurts like hell but there’s no real permanent damage to worry about. Honestly, most of it was superficial stuff, scarcely a mark left on me. The only reason I was in medical for as long as I was was because they had to drain my lungs and get me on antibiotics in case of infection. Could have been home within a day otherwise.”

Bozer wasn’t entirely sure what it was about Mac that made him think that explanation would do anything at all to allay their concerns, but he didn’t care for it at all. Worse than any of that though was the dawning realisation in the back of his mind that had been growing steadily ever since Mac mentioned moving into Jack’s place. “Except you couldn’t have come home,” he said quietly, needing to hear it for himself. “Because I was there.”

Mac shuffled in his seat, but held his gaze. “A couple of bruises could probably have been explained away, but I was… kind of a mess. Even if you could have believed I got hit by a car or something, all it would have taken was a few screaming nightmares to give me away. No way it wouldn’t have blown my cover.”

He sounded apologetic even as he said it, bracing himself as though he was expecting Bozer to lash out at him for something that had already been long forgiven. Sure, lying to him for years had been a shitty thing to do, but Boze understood why he had done it now, and he knew that Mac had only ever been trying to keep him safe. It might have been the wrong choice, but it was done for all the right reasons.

“Mac,” he started, uncertain and wounded and so, so guilty, “Mac, you should have been at home. After whatever it was you went though, you should have been able to recover in your own house.”

Mac blinked at him in clear surprise. Did he really not understand? Boze tried again. “I’m guessing that Jack wasn’t the only one dealing with some shit when you got back to LA and I’m not even going to pretend I can imagine what that was like. You should have been able to come home, come back to the place where you felt safe and cared for and-” He sucked in a hard breath. “And you couldn’t, because of me. I chased you out of your own house when you’d been tortured.”

The blonde was already shaking his head, looking stricken. “That wasn’t on you. Boze, that was never on you.” He finally stopped worrying at his sleeve to grip Bozer’s shoulder, tight and grounding. “I was the one who kept the truth from you. I lied to you, for years, and that’s all on me. I know that if you’d known what had happened you would have been there for me and you only weren’t because I didn’t let you.”

He wasn’t wrong and Bozer knew it, but he wasn’t exactly right either. “I get that. But you do know that you shouldn’t have had to make that choice, right? You should have been able to come home Mac.”

Riley was glancing between the two of them looking utterly lost, and Mac was starting to look not much better, so Boze took a slow breath and tried his best to let it go. He had spent years of his life trying to convince Mac that he should rank his own well-being at least somewhere on his list of priorities, and this was really just another piece of that endless puzzle. There would be time to fight that battle later. “I’m just glad you’re okay man. No lasting damage?”

Thankful for the lifeline being offered, Mac dropped his hand away from Bozer’s shoulder and shrugged lightly. “A few scars, but nothing else. Like I said, I had a surprisingly easy time of it in comparison to Jack.” His eyes darted over to where his partner had hunkered down as far from them as he could get. “And speaking of, give me a minute.”

He was on his feet and gone before either of them could even think about trying to stop him, not that they would have done. Bozer had the sense that this was a conversation they had had before, and he knew that Mac would have it handled. If there was anyone who could convince Jack that he hadn’t somehow apocalyptically failed the man he had dedicated his own life to protecting, it would be the man himself.

“How many stories do you think they have?” Riley asked quietly, soft enough that the others wouldn’t hear her. “All the years they’ve been doing this… How much is there that we don’t know about?”

Bozer thought about the scars on Mac’s arm that he’d never really seen before, about the number of unannounced work trips he had gone on after he came back from Afghanistan. Thought about the number of times he had heard him moving around the house late at night after a nightmare, or worse, the times he’d woken up crying out in panic. He’d known for years that Jack had a protective streak a mile wide and he’d centered it firmly on Mac; before he’d known about the Phoenix, Bozer had always wondered if the man was going overboard. Now, he knew with certainty that he wasn’t.

When he met her gaze, there were tears in Riley’s eyes. “Too much.”

#MacGyver #mac #jack dalton #angus macgyver #wilt bozer #bozer #riley #riley davis #fanfiction #my fanfic #mention of torture #i don't really know what this is #weird little gremlin inspo that bit me

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

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WAIT. I'm late to the party but I just remembered all those anons were sending in "why I send you asks" and their reasons and I actually really want to participate, so I hope you will accept late applications?

The reason I send you so many asks is because you've just...built such a nice feeling that anything can be discussed, and it's never too niche or cringy or boring, and that's really relieving and amazing.

I'm sure you (along with many others) have realized by now, but I suffer from....really bad anxiety, both social anxiety and just in general, and it very often gets in the way of my life. Because of this and past experiences, I'm always very scared and hesitant to talk about my interests and my thoughts on anything.

But every time I've sent you an ask, even if it was, in retrospect, probably really annoying to read through the one hundred "sorry"s and "my bad"s, you've always been nothing but kind and interested in my ideas, and that was just...so surprising. Because I never really knew anyone who was willing to talk about anything, and it was just...really amazing to meet someone who was! Especially because I love and am interested in so many different things and kind of need someone to bounce ideas at. And it was really cool to see someone that was unashamed of their own interests and thoughts, but didn't make others feel bad for having different ideas.

Every time I send you an ask, you always have something interesting to say back. Something I hadn't thought of or considered, or a query that would make me rethink my own theories, or just a very well-thought-out answer to a question. I remember sending in tons of asks about the wings AU before it was released, and writing those was probably the highlight of my day, because I knew you'd take them and run with the ideas, and do your best to match my energy, and I was really grateful for that. And you were always willing to dig deeper, to think "but what if there was more?" and that's just...incredible! I don't have any other word for it!

I love sending you asks because you don't dismiss an idea or deem it as stupid, and you're just...such a kind and wonderful person that can make even the most obscure subject infinitely more interesting than before, and you never fail to make me consider things again, to expand my thoughts and views, and I'm really grateful for that.

So, because it should definitely be said by now, thank you!

And, well, that's why I love sending you asks :]

- pyro

there is no timeline so there's no way to be late! and I'm answering this a few days after you sent this, so if you believe yourself to be late then we can both be late together :D. you are fully welcome to participate if you want to (which you said you did)! it was mostly just a random question I had because i'm just as analytical with myself as I am with keeper, and knowing how other perceive and think of me is helpful for that--and I was curious about how i'd aquired so many asks so quickly, and then you all just turned it into complimenting quil hours for some reason !! (but on to your ask before I get even more distracted)

(note from a quil who has answered all of this: got very long so that's why there's a readmore! i love you /p)

this means so much to me--specifically your use of "built" because I do try pretty hard to maintain a positive atmosphere and welcome everyone in and treat everyone with the same attention. it didn't just fall into place, i try to be encouraging to everyone and support all the amazing work--art, writing, ideas, etc--I see from people. (note: i've been wanting to do a thing where I ask for fic/art/other recommendations from others (can be friends or their own) so i can go through and reblog a bunch of them with comments and the like, I just want to get through more of my asks before I start something like that). But you're right--nothing is too niche! there's so many details in the story it's impossible for one person to notice anything, so people bringing up the obscure and their own thoughts makes the story richer and more fleshed out for everyone else! and i think it's really cool to just see what other people focus on (like I said, my analysis isn't limited to characters, but I'm not like dissecting you all to understand each of you in a creepy way or anything. I just like to get a better sense of someone so I can respond in a way more tailored to them when we interact)

anxiety can really suck, so as someone who also has anxiety i am giving you a comforting hug if you'd like one. it genuinely impacts everything you do and think about, rewriting how you experience life. a single, inconsequential experience to someone else can literally change major aspects of how we think, which makes interactions so scary sometimes. i remember things people said years ago and still base my actions around them, but those people have absolutely no recollection of ever saying it, but just the fear of having done something wrong once permanently altered my thinking. (this is not to make this about me, I'm just trying to show I understand by sharing an experience of my own).

reading through all your "i'm sorry"s and "my bad"s wasn't annoying and never will be. you have never had anything to apologize for, and I know that sometimes you feel you need to enter a conversation and first apologize for being there, but I'm thrilled to have you here and always love seeing you in my inbox. I don't know how to articulate this properly, but I'm going to try. i saw your apologies and your apprehension as...a puzzle? that's absolutely not the right word but I can't think of the right one so please let me explain (I don't mean to imply you're like something to be solved or a problem in any way. words can be difficult and I'm trying to describe something very intangible rn, so I hope this doesn't sound bad). I didn't see it as annoying (you're never annoying), I saw it like it was something to work through, and while it's not my job or anything to help other's with their personal problems, it was like if I could just provide one space where I could encourage you (not just you, but anyone) as a friend to try shifting your language and start thinking of yourself more positively, then I wanted to give that.

because I am interested in your ideas! and I want to be kind and welcoming to you! but I also want you to be kind to yourself, so any impact I've had to give anyone a safer, less scary space is really cool. I don't know if that made sense, but I'm not trying to talk down to you or anything or be like I'm this high and mighty figure harboring lost souls or something, just that connection is important and I like being there for people. kinda worried that sounded bad because it feels worded strange but I'm trying to reciprocate and say i appreciate you and am happy to talk about anything!

i love bouncing ideas back and forth and you are more than welcome to say anything and everything you're thinking about. talking to you is always an absolutely joy and I get so excited when you send me an ask and when you're reading my response, because it often feels like this like...buzz? like we're just vibing on this frequency and it makes it so much fun to throw ideas back and forth and just listen to each other talk. i am very glad to have surprised you and met you! I don't know a lot of people like myself either, so having someone like you interact with me and just go all out on these little things and what we personally like about different parts of the so much fun. a lot of the other people I know irl feel like they just scratch the surface, they say things just to get credit for it and to appear like they know what they're talking about while ignoring all these other things that have such an impact, so it's amazing to have found someone else who looks at everything and anything like I do. my brain really is "a little bit of everything all of the time" so knowing you have so many different interests too is really cool. i am giving you an internet high five and pretending you aren't so far away.

I spent so much of my life being quiet when I had so many thoughts, so now that I have this kind of outlet I just! want to say everything I can! i want to look at everything from every perspective possible! the world is a huge collection of things tied together and I love following the strings to find the connected pieces! but I think that's a way of approaching the world not a lot of people share (I could be wrong), so it's really cool to hear you think my thought process is interesting!! my brain is practically composed entirely of questions. any subject at any time of the day and nearly all of my thoughts are just wanting to know more and trying to understand things, so having that opportunity to ask further questions and just learn things (about what other's thing, how things work, etc) is so much fun. you might've seen me ask some questions of other's in a few of the asks I answer, but those barely scratch the surface of just how many I have. my handle is in_quil_sitive (inquisitve) on nearly every social media platform (except for this one) for a reason.

I remember some of your asks from before the wings au was published, too. those were absolutely incredible, and I got a rush of excitement every time I saw you sent another. those were the the highlight of my week, too!! your enthusiasm and excitement for something I hadn't even posted yet gave me so much motivation to continue and you helped me think through so many future ideas and consider things from new perspectives. i know i specifically wrote that you inspired one chapter in the notes, but you've had an impact on every single chapter of this story/ it wouldn't be what it is without you, and I mean that with complete sincerity. you were the one who made me think "what if there was more" so I could make this au even better and work towards something bigger. I just have so many thoughts about everything all of the time, I can't go more than a few minutes without being distracted by a different train of thought, but knowing there was someone who would want to hear all the weird, disjointed ideas i'd strung together and composed into a more cohesive format was so cool. there's just so much to think about!!

I probably sound repetitive at this point but I love answering your asks because you're so receptive to the way i say things and it's like you're actually listening and want to hear what I specifically have to say, not just the general ideas. you want to know my unique, personalized opinions and perspectives and don't just dismiss them when they're not what you expect to hear or aren't generic. you're incredibly kind, too, I hope you know. I love the description of how I can "make even the most obscure subject infinitely more interesting than before." that is such a meaningful compliment to me. I just keep thinking about this line over and over again and it just...it really means a lot. because you're saying it's me that interests you and not just what I talk about. I could talk about anything and you'd still want to interact with me and that's so fucking nice. I hope you know the same goes for you. we can challenge each other's thinking together and make things even deeper and more complex before together <33.

thank you for being here and being my friend, pyro. talking to you is always one of the highlights of my day and gives me a very positive feeling that I carry around for a while. I do this thing sometimes where I film myself to later observe my behaviors in the middle of intense emotions to understand myself better (back to that whole analysis thing again), but it's not just negative things, it's also when I'm really excited or pleased with something and jumping around and stimming and all that, and some of those are from when I interact with you. that might sound a little weird but I mean it positively, as in talking with you makes me ecstatic.

I have said. so many things. so I will stop (for now). but I really appreciate having you in my life <33

#this response is 1757 words long i--#i have written shorter essays for my college classes #pyro this better convince you that i care about you #you're one of my favorite people #just in general #i really value our friendship #and hope none of this sounded weird #i tried to articulate it but some of the concepts didn't want to become words #so please know this is meant to be loving and supportive of you #in all aspects #i wrote so much and still didn't say everything I wanted to #you should be asleep when I answer this so hopefully this is something nice to wake up to #still don't feel i've articulated myself fully #but I have tried #worried about that puzzle part but I'm trying to say I want this to be like a safe space of kinds #where I can support you and encourage you to stop apologizing when you don't need to #and do that without judging you #ah anxious about that #if you cannot tell I don't want to mess this up and am worried I will #hnnnng #if I said something weird please let me know so i can fix it #quil's queries #pyrokinetic-loser #nonsie love #long post

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cycat4077 · 3 years

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When the Time is Right

Summary: Is it time to take your relationship to the next level? Set at the start of S18 - roughly August 2016. Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: Mature themes...of the NSFW variety, some cussing, fluff, feels, etc. Words: 1927 AO3 here

Technically part 12 in the Changes verse, but can act as a stand-alone.

Consider this a Valentine’s day themed thingy even though it’s set in August 🥰

"It's weird I guess," you say in between sips of tea, "how some parts of our relationship have happened so quickly, like meeting his parents right away, while other parts of it aren't rushed at all. For instance, the two of us were complete idiots and it took a couple of months to formally say ‘I love you’." The admission makes you chuckle, but as you look up from your drink, the devious grin pasted across your friend’s face tells you that she’s hung up on one small detail.

"You guys haven't done it yet, have you?" blurts Sydney, sitting wide-eyed across from you on her sofa.

You're normally a pretty private person so you can't help it when your cheeks start to burn, effectively giving away your secret.

"You haven't!" she exclaims, eagerly setting down her teacup, ready for details.

"Syd!"

The blonde raises her arms in mock defense. "Hey, hey! There's nothing wrong with it but it's kind of a rarity to not be in each other's pants by now!"

You grow even more self-conscious, tracing the rim of your mug handle as a distraction.

"Listen,” Sydney begins sternly, “he's super nice to you and charming and sweet, so I just wanna make sure he's not -"

But you interrupt her before she can make the accusation. "Sonny isn't like that," you state, adopting a firm tone of your own. "We just haven't gotten there yet...there's been no rush. I feel totally comfortable around Sonny and he's never once made me feel like we should be doing anything."

"Good," she asserts. "I just want to make sure you're not being played because the good ones are really hard to find."

Ever since you met in college, Sydney has been fiercely protective of you, and clearly that side of her is something that's never changed. Despite her thirst for details, you also know that you can truly trust her so you suppose there's no harm in opening up a little. "I mean, it's not like I haven't thought about it,” you confess sheepishly. “I went on the pill not long after we started dating because you never know, but our lives have been so busy and messy. Especially this summer. We've had our ups and downs - some beyond our control and some were issues that we've worked out together. I really feel like we've come out of it stronger and the more we experience together, the more I’m certain that Sonny is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Sydney cracks a goofy smile.

"Yeah, yeah. Corny. I know," you wave dismissively, "but I can't help loving him more and more each day. Our relationship is so special to me and personally, sex is one of the most intimate things a couple can do. It's about love. So, waiting for the right time isn't a big deal. If anything, it will just bring us that much closer."

"Girl, you're crazy lucky!” chimes Sydney, affectionately. "And there's nothing wrong with waiting to bang. You remember me from back in the day and how I had my fair share of ‘promiscuous encounters’. Actually, with Geoff..." Sydney's eyes narrow as she recollects her ex, "fuck, do I wish we had waited! He said all the right things and made all the right gestures. Our relationship moved so fast! We hit the milestones at a hundred miles per hour…and I believed it! But then the cheating started. When I found out - and I still feel this way sometimes - when I think about having slept with him, I feel so dirty and cheap." She ducks her head and you can tell that the wound still smarts.

"You can't blame yourself for his behavior!" you rationalize, wishing your friend wouldn't be so hard on herself.

"I know! And I don't, but it's that shame and embarrassment of knowing I was so foolish to believe there was love there. Even the thought of having given myself over to him in that way makes me wanna upchuck. Hell, those one-night stands where the guy dips out as soon as he finishes don't feel as cheap or degrading. So, hon, there's nothing wrong with the pace you're moving at. Believe me. Maybe if I had waited longer with Geoff, his true colours would have shone through earlier..."

"It's in the past, Syd," you reason, "and you know what is special about that? It goes to show you how much you can trust and love someone. And even though Geoff was a total asshole, there's gonna be a guy out there for you someday who will be worthy of all that."

Sydney smiles despite herself. "You're a total sap, you know that, right?" You grin at her and nod proudly. "But I love ya for it." She then leans across the sofa and gives you a grateful hug. Parting, Sydney continues. "You'll know when the time is right," she reassures you. "You may talk about it or it may just happen, but you and Sonny are the mushiest, most in-love couple I've ever seen, so I know you'll be just fine."

-x-

Nights in with Sonny are the best. Lately you both had been so busy. Sonny was working overtime on top of double shifts, while you were occupied with perfecting your new course curriculum before the semester started.

When the two of you were finally able to have an evening off, you'd find something to eat and just lounge on the couch; maybe pop in a movie and sit snuggled up together. You didn't need to be doing anything in particular to enjoy each other's company.

Sometimes though, those cozy moments strayed towards other forms of physical affection. To put it in simple terms: you’d make out…And tonight happened to be no different.

"This movie's dumb," grumbles Sonny, leaning his head on the back of the sofa.

"Yep," you agree, staring blankly at the tv screen.

Sonny then turns his face towards you, offering a cheeky grin. "At least tha company's good."

You flop yours in his direction. "I suppoooose so," you tease with a roll of your eyes.

Sonny pouts and you laugh at how ridiculous he looks. When his put-on expression doesn't crack, you decide it's time to steer the evening towards a more preferable form of entertainment. "Y'know, if you don't stop making that face, I'm gonna have to wipe it off you myself." There's a deliberate hint of suggestion in your voice and you bite your lip to make your intentions crystal clear.

With a gleam in his eye, Sonny playfully deepens the curl of his frown which obviously leaves you with no choice but to reach out, nab his jaw and pull him to your lips. His arm encircles you and his hand presses against your back to coax you near. The quick peck blossoms into several more deep and passionate kisses; the two of you barely able to spare a breath in between.

As things continue to heat up you climb over and straddle Sonny’s lap. To your delight, this move elicits an 'Mmm!' of pleasant surprise from the Italian detective’s throat. Your hair falls over your shoulder as you peer down into his swirling blue eyes. "Hi," you grin quietly.

Sonny stares up at you in wonder. His hands fix themselves to the small of your waist. "Hey," he returns softly as the corners of his mouth cradle a gentle smile.

You hold his gaze a moment longer, soaking in the view. You're still in awe that the man before you is all yours, but as you lean down to capture his lips, you're reassured of your reality. Sonny mirrors your every move, matching your passion. The kisses grow even more heated. Your fingertips work at his silver temples while Sonny's hands burn up your skin where they've snuck themselves beneath your shirt. A gentle but firm squeeze is all it takes for your hips to involuntarily grind down against his.

Suddenly, Sonny raises your bum off of his lap. "What's wrong?" you ask with worry.

He shuts his eyes reluctantly before opening them to you, brow furrowed and expression vulnerable. "It's just...well, if we keep this up..." He winces and his cheeks turn pink.

You shift your knees on the sofa to steady yourself and raise your own eyebrows in understanding. "Oh," you say, growing quiet and nervous. The two of you never did get around to a discussion on taking things further, which left you to wonder where Sonny stood on the matter.

Ever the gentleman, he delicately tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, "I just don't know if we're ready for...this."

"Babe," you sit back on his thighs, rubbing your palms soothingly along his shoulders. "Do you want to wait? I know your beliefs are a little firmer than mine."

"Nuh-no! It's not that!" he exclaims. "I just don't wanna move too fast for you!" Sonny too, turns timid as he speaks.

You can't help but smile down at him. What had you done to deserve such a sweetheart? You recall the conversation with Sydney from a couple weeks ago. She was right.

"I believe in love," you breathe, running your thumb tenderly along his cheek, "and I love you more than anything."

"I love you too, doll," echoes Sonny, the confidence returning to his voice.

You kiss him again. It's long and lingering, reigniting the flame between you. Sonny draws you to his chest and you link your arms behind his neck. "I want this, if you do," you speak in a soft voice.

"I want this too. I want you...so much." The reply is almost a whisper, his lips mere inches from your own.

Emboldened, you withdraw and stand up, your skin tingling where his fingers brush along your waist. Never breaking eye contact, you reach out your hand. Sonny accepts and you lead him to the bedroom.

-x-

The next morning you awake to orange licks of early sunlight flickering through the blinds. Sonny's arm surrounds you, clutching you to his bare chest. His heavy breathing sounds beside your ear and you think it impossible for life to be any more perfect. You snuggle your naked form closer into his, wishing to stay in his warm embrace forever.

Then Sonny begins to stir. "Mornin' beautiful," he says, Staten Island accent heavy with sleep.

"Morning," you turn over in his arms to place a kiss at the corner of his mouth.

He releases you, propping his head up on an elbow. "Last night was..."

"Wow," you finish with a flirtatious grin.

Sonny sighs dreamily, "yeah." He then takes a finger and beings tracing light circles over your exposed shoulder. "Kinda wish we'd done that sooner." His tone is husky but his eyes are filled with affection.

"We've got our whole lives ahead of us, Sonny," you offer before delicately sweeping a piece of his hair away from his forehead.

You watch his blue eyes soften and crinkle at the corners. Dimples form from his smile. But instead of answering, he simply leans forward and kisses you.

Last night wasn't just physical; you found a whole new connection with Sonny. One deeply rooted in attraction but brought to life and nurtured by love. It was like you were completely in synch, giving and taking from one another wholly and completely. And, as you once again melt into his kiss, you know that everything had worked out just as it was meant to be.

---

Part 13 here!

A/N: I really love this fic. I've had it in my drafts for a long time and I really wanted to find the perfect place to add it into the series. I'm no expert but it kind of ticks me off how the media portrays physical relationships to be the holy grail...like it's a make or break type thing or that people need to be physical to fall in love. So, I tend to gravitate towards character-couples who do the opposite...and to me, Sonny seems like the type who values an emotional connection over a purely physical one. Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed reading this fic! The last paragraph is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written!

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi x you #sonnyshine of my life #law and order svu #svu fanfiction #The Changes verse #my fanfic #changes #SVU S18

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snelbz · 4 years

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Lost Time {15}

A/N: As always, co-written with my better half, @tacmc.

Elain awoke to steady beeping and dim light. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, for her memories of the day to be recollected.

Lucien had come to her work.

They fought.

He left.

She didn’t remember anything after that.

Now, she was hooked up to a heart monitor, a blood pressure band around her arm, and IV just below it. The night sky sparkled outside of the window, and she found herself wondering how long she’d been out. She looked around, thankful to find that she wasn’t alone.

Azriel was asleep in a chair, his chin propped on his fist, his mouth hanging wide open. His feet were propped up on a rolling stool, one ankle crossed over the other.

As if sensing her eyes on him, he stirred and his eyes opened. He was up before she ever had a chance to try and speak, cradling her face.

“It’s okay,” he breathed, “I’m right here, Lainey. I’m right here.”

Voice a rasp, she asked, “What happened?”

He chuckled, but tears were filling his eyes. “I was really hoping you could tell us that. You went into shock.”

She blinked.

Her ring. Lucien had pawned her ring.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. That ring was the most beautiful thing he’d ever given her, before she’d had Novan, but she couldn’t tell him it was gone. Better for him to assume it’d been gone for years.

“Lucien came by with some of my stuff,” she said, not a lie, but also not the full truth. “We just...got into it.”

Azriel tensed. “Got into it?”

“We fought,” she said, and he frowned.

She was fully aware by the look in his eye that he wanted an answer that held a little more of an explanation, but he didn’t push, whether it was because of her current state or because he didn’t feel it was his business, she didn’t know. She was grateful for it, though, whatever it was, because it meant she didn’t have to go into her and Lucien’s fight. “Water?”

He was instantly up on his feet, going to fill up a little paper cup with water. She was reaching out for it, but he never took his hand off of it as it touched her lips.

She tried speaking again. “Where is Donovan?”

“He’s at my mom’s,” he said, shaking his head.

She laughed softly. “Silly of me to ask.”

Azriel smiled and said, “I wondered why you didn’t just assume,” and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She smiled softly but he tilted her chin towards him when she tried to look away. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I am, I just-.” A shuddering breath. “I learned something unexpected today and it just was...tough to process. I’m okay, I promise.”

Elain leaned forward and softly pressed her lips against his. When she pulled away, he looked uncertain. “Elain-.”

“Please don’t ask questions,” she whispered. “We can talk about it later, okay?”

He nodded, slowly, and kissed her, once again to save him from asking any more questions. A nurse came in, smiling brightly once she saw Elain awake.

“Hello, my dear!” she said, closing the door behind her. “I’m glad to find you sitting up. How are you feeling?”

“Weak,” she admitted.

The nurse nodded. “Well, that’s to be expected. Keep resting, try to sleep a little more. While you’re awake, I’d like to take a few samples so we can run some tests, make sure there are no other underlying reasons as to why you fainted.”

Elain nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip. “That’s fine.” She rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm, turning to Azriel. “What time is it?”

He yawned, glancing at his watch. “Just a bit before four.”

“Four?” She repeated, looking from him to the nurse currently prepping her. “I’ve been out for…” she paused and did some mental math. “Nearly seventeen hours?”

“You hit your head when you fell,” she explained.

It was then that Elain realized that, yes, she did have a pretty solid headache, and she reached up to touch her forehead. There was a band of gauze wrapped around her forehead.

“It’s not bad,” Azriel whispered. “You hit a corner of one of the tables on the way down, though.”

Elain hesitated. “I have stitches?”

“Only a few,” the nurse said. “You should be able to get them out next week.”

Elain nodded, slowly, letting all the little details register fully.

“I’m going to take these samples back,” the nurse said, holding up three little vials of blood - Azriel had to look away. “There’s a cup for a urine sample in the bathroom. Do it when you can, then let me know. I’ll come back soon to check your vitals.”

Elain smiled. “Thank you.”

The nurse smiled in return before hurrying off.

Azriel was looking at her. She was looking anywhere but him, because she knew he wouldn’t let this go. She breathed, “Az…”

“I need you to tell me what happened today, Elain,” he said, voice hard.

She shook her head. “It was nothing, Az, he was lashing out because he was hurt. And I- I reacted. He was trying to get a rise out of me and it worked.”

His hazel eyes were hard. “Did he touch you?”

“What?” Her eyes widened, shocked that he’d even assume that.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, standing up and beginning to pace. “Did he come onto you? Did he say something rude? What happened, Elain?”

She couldn’t tell him about the ring, but she also couldn’t handle him being mad at her.

“I-.” She hesitated, a thousand different lies running through her mind. “Yes, he came onto me, told me I was making a big mistake, and I got pissed. But, no, he didn’t touch me, and he left, Az. Okay? Drop it, please.”

The way his jaw locked told Elain he definitely was not going to drop it. “I’ve got to go.”

He had only taken one step before Elain said, “No, you will stay here with me, and if you leave me here to find Lucien at four in the morning, I will never forgive you.”

Azriel froze, but he didn’t like that response. “He can’t treat you like that.”

“He left when I asked him to,” she said. “He said his piece, we screamed at each other, he tried to tell me he knew what was best for me, I told him to get out and he left. I passed out after he left.”

He had turned back to her. “Right after he left?”

She shook her head. “Not immediately after, maybe a minute or so. I remember calling you, telling you to hurry and then...nothing.”

“Nothing?” He asked.

Closing her eyes, she repeated, “Nothing.”

Azriel took a deep breath and sighed, walking back towards the bed and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek, careful of the tender spot above her brow. “Okay.”

After calming down, Elain did as the nurse he instructed and filled and left the sample cup in the bathroom. They called her back and checked her vitals, seeing that everything was reading mostly normal, save for an increased heart rate. Once they received her tests back, she’d be allowed to go home, but until then, they wanted her to try and rest.

It took very little convincing for Azriel to climb up in the uncomfortable hospital bed with Elain, to let her lay her head on his chest, tucking her in close. She drifted off to sleep almost immediately, the meds knocking her out cold, but Azriel laid there, his cheek pressed against the top of her head as he watched the sun come up.

He wasn’t going to push her. He wouldn’t press her. He’d let her come to him with whatever took place with Lucien today, but he knew she’d lied to him, at least about one thing.

She hadn’t passed out after she called him.

No, she’d made one more phone call before that, after they’d spoken.

He knew who it had been with. He just didn’t know what it had been about.

————————————————————————

Azriel sat at his mother’s kitchen table and stared at the sheet of paper in his hand, declaring that his paternity test concluded that he was, in fact, Donovan’s father. Rhysand had brought it to him an hour before, and Azriel had hardly taken his eyes off of it. He was going to be added to Novan’s birth certificate. It was becoming official.

He couldn’t help the tears that lined his eyes.

“Everyone’s coming over for dinner,” Miryam said, stepping into the kitchen. “We’re going to celebrate. It’s a good day.”

Azriel nodded, hearing Novan’s laughter from the living room, where he was relaxing on the couch with Elain, watching a movie. He cleared his throat, “When will they be showing up?”

“Soon,” Miryam said, smiling fondly. “You’re crying.”

He looked up at her, smiling broadly. “I know.”

She sat down in the chair next to him and took his hand. He rubbed his thumb over the back of hers. “Your father knew you’d come back one day.”

He blinked. “What?”

“He always knew you’d find your way back here. He just didn’t know how long it’d take.” She cleared her throat and for the first time since he’d been home, he heard her voice wavering as she said, “I just wish he could have seen what an amazing father you’re becoming.”

Azriel’s eyes closed, but not in any attempt to stop the tears. He knew there was no hope of that. So he leaned over and wrapped his arms around his mother, wishing he had been around to do it more in the past few years.

“Meme, may I have some juice, please?” Azriel and Miryam turned toward where Novan’shead peeked over the couch. When he saw Azriel’s tears, he hopped off the couch and ran over to him. He crawled up in his lap and asked, “You still crying happy tears, daddy?”

Azriel laughed, quietly. “Yeah, I can’t seem to stop.”

His little fingers reached up and brushed along Azriel’s tanned cheeks, wiping the tears away. “Don’t cry, daddy.”

Daddy. It wasn’t long ago that he didn’t even know he was a dad, and now he couldn’t imagine life any differently. He brushed Novan’s hair back off his forehead as he chuckled. “I’ll try my best. You know, your uncles will be here soon, you should probably go warn your mom.”

Novan grinned. “Yes! Okay. What about my juice?”

“Meme will get you juice,” Miryam said, rising to her feet after she kissed Novan’s forehead. “Not too much, though, we’re having a big dinner tonight.”

“And cake?” Novan asked.

Azriel laughed, “Yes, bud. And cake.”

“Yes!” He hopped off of Azriel’s lap and hurried back into the living room. He chuckled as his eyes followed him and heard Elain’s Oof! as he jumped onto her lap from over the arm of the couch.

It had been three days since they’d come home from the hospital. It was Azriel’s first chance to see Nesta, to ask what their phone call was about, but Elain was almost back to her cheerful self. She was still tired, but he knew she didn’t want to worry Novan. The sweet woman who owned the antique store had come by the house last night and brought them a plate of fresh baked cookies - which Novan has his eyes on all night - and told Elain to take a week or two off. She’d protested, but had ultimately accepted the kindness from her boss.

Azriel was grateful that Elain had such great people in her life.

Miryam began fluttering about the kitchen, after giving Novan his precious juice, and Azriel kept trying to help, but she just kept chuckling. “I love you, honey, but you are hazardous to have in the kitchen.”

Azriel scoffed, pouring himself a glass of bourbon. “That’s not true.”

“You burnt spaghetti once, sweetheart.”

Azriel screwed the lid back on the bottle and took a sip before he said, “I was seventeen, that’s not fair.”

He was kicked out of the kitchen soon after. It was okay, though, because it meant that he got to go snuggle on the couch with Elain and Novan before their family began to arrive. Nesta and Cassian were the first, Nesta plopping down in the armchair in the living room as their movie finished up.

“Aunt Nes,” Novan began, propping his little chin on his fists. “Your tummy is getting big.”

“That’s because your baby cousin is growing in here,” she explained, lovingly rubbing her hand down it. “Just like you grew in your mommy’s tummy.”

Novan turned to Elain. “I was in your tummy? How’d I get in there?” His eyes grew even wider. “How’d I get out?”

Elain and Azriel both froze and Nesta, realizing the likely incoming conversation she’d caused, was about to get out of the chair, when Cassian entered the room and said, “It’s a boy!”

Elain and Az were on their feet, looking from Nesta and Cassian. Elain asked, “You found out? When?! And you didn’t tell me?”

Nesta, with a look of genuine confusion, said, “We haven’t found out, I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

“I’m talking about Az,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because he’s officially a dad.”

Azriel rolled his eyes as Cassian pulled him in close for a hug, and Nesta groaned. “Oh, no, it’s too early for the dad-jokes to start.”

“It’s never too early.” Cassian winked at his fiancée as he ruffled Azriel’s hair, which earned him a scowl.

“Uncle Cass!” Novan said, jumping up on the couch. “Meme got me a new train, wanna see?”

“Of course I do,” Cassian answered, as if the tiny toy train was the most majestic thing on the planet. With a wide grin, Novan hurried away to get it.

Feyre and Rhysand came in a minute later, the latter holding a cake. “Close your eyes! I’ve been instructed to get this to the kitchen without anyone seeing. Little did I know you all would be standing directly in front of the door.”

“The one time we don’t walk through the back door,” Feyre muttered, and Elain chuckled.

Rhysand hurried through the house with the cake as Feyre hugged Azriel, then Elain, just as Novan came running back through the house with a little toy train.

He took a tumble right as he came around the corner and everyone froze, waiting to see if the fall would result in a meltdown or if he’d hop right back up and keep going. It seemed Novan was having a rough day, too.

He sat back on his bottom and looked at the carpet burn on his knee and then the tears began. He forgot the train on the floor and was up and running towards his family. Miryam and Elain were both ready to scoop him up and dry his tears, but he passed them and stood in front of Azriel. He wailed, “Da- Daddy, I hurt my knee.”

There was no hesitation as he picked his son up and said, “Let me see, bud.”

Novan moved his hand, where it was holding his knee, and the smallest of carpet burns made its appearance.

“Ouch,” Azriel agreed, kissing Novan’s forehead. “How about a Bandaid? Bandaids always help.”

Novan nodded, his bottom lip still wobbling as Azriel carried him into the kitchen and sat him down on the counter.

“You gotta remember to walk,” Azriel sang as he dug through the medicine cabinet.

“I was excited,” Novan replied, wiping at his eyes.

“I know,” Azriel said, laughing softly as he found the box of Bandaids and took one out that had Spiderman on it. He carefully put it over the carpet burn. “Even when we’re excited, though, we have to walk when we’re inside. Right?”

Novan nodded, and then his eyes caught something over Azriel’s shoulder. Azriel took Novan off the counter and turned around to see that Novan had found the cake, and remembering Rhysand’s earlier warning, he quickly hurried out of the kitchen. “Don’t tell Meme we saw the cake,” Azriel mumbled.

Novan’s hands flew over his mouth as he giggled.

They rejoined the family in the living room, Azriel sitting next to Elain, and Donovan took off, walking quickly, to retrieve his forgotten train and show his uncle. Before they knew it, it was time to eat and Cassian and Azriel carried in plates full of fresh from the grill burgers and hot dogs.

Azriel had been attempting to catch Nesta’s eye all afternoon, but whether it was intentional or not, he could never seem to find a moment to pull her to the side. He’d find a moment at some point, he was sure, but he didn’t want to let his curiosity ruin a perfect day.

Novan was eating a hamburger that was the size of his head when he asked, “Mommy, does this mean I get a second birthday every year?”

Everyone laughed as Elain said, “Not quite, buddy.”

“But, it’s a special day,” Azriel said, eyeing Novan next to him at the table.

“Because we eat cake?” he asked. “Thank you for cake, Meme.”

Miryam laughed. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Cake is good,” Azriel agreed. “But, it’s special because now I get to legally be your daddy.” Novan’s brows scrunched together, and Azriel realized that such a concept would be confusing to a four-year-old. “Nevermind,” he went on, chuckling. “Today is special because I love you, yeah? This will forever be our special day, bud.”

His hazel eyes lit up. “Just for us?”

Azriel couldn’t help but smile. “Just for us, but don’t you think we should let everyone celebrate?”

His eyes narrowed. “We share the cake?”

Azriel chuckled and kissed his head. “You’d have to share the cake regardless.”

Donovan sighed dramatically. “Fine. As long as it’s our day though. I’m glad you’re my daddy”

He dove back into his burger, not noticing that almost everyone else around the table had tears in their eyes.

Especially Rhys and Feyre.

————————————————————————

Once the cake had been cut and Donovan crashed from sugar, Rhys and Az took a minute to step out onto the back porch.

“So…” Azriel awkwardly began. How exactly was he supposed to pick back up the conversation about his brother’s infertility?

“You’re wondering about the results from Yrene?” Rhysand guessed. A small smile had appeared on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Azriel nodded. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I was just-.”

The door opened again and Cassian stepped out, a beer in his hand. “What’d I miss?”

Azriel frowned as Rhysand ran a hand through his hair. “I, uh, met with Yrene. Feyre and I have been struggling to have kids for a while, so we had some tests run.”

Cassian’s face fell as he stood by his brothers. “I didn’t even know you guys were trying.”

Rhysand nodded. “Yeah… And, it turns out, Feyre’s fine. It’s me.” His voice went so quiet that the words could hardly be heard.

“Is there...nothing you can do?” Azriel asked.

Rhys shook his head. “Not really, because as of right now, we’re doing everything right. I just have a, uh.” He shook his head and laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “I have a low sperm count.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Cass asked, leaning against the wooden rail. “You can cum but there’s no swimmers?”

Az rolled his eyes and said, “It means he has less than you and I.” He looked back to Rhys. “Which that’s not a definitive no, right? It could still happen at some point, in some way?”

Rhys was shaking his head. “Yes, but it’s not likely to happen in the traditional way.” He sighed. “They’re suggesting we try implanting it directly into Feyre’s uterus, but it’s expensive. Money isn’t a problem, I just don’t want to put Feyre through that for nothing if it doesn’t take.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Have you talked about a surrogate anymore?”

“I’d fuck her for you,” Cass interjected.

Rhys said, “Dude, no,” at the same time Azriel said, “Cassian,”‘and shook his head.

“What?” He asked. “It’s cheaper than paying someone else to do it with a big ass syringe, it would feel good for Feyre, and the kid would still look like the rest of the family.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes, completely ignoring Cassian, and said, “We’ve discussed it. She doesn’t want to use a surrogate. She wants to try the intrauterine implant method if we try anything.” He sighed and said, “And please don’t ever tell Feyre that you offered to fuck her.”

“Do you want my kid?” Cass asked.

“No, Cass, I don’t want your kid.”

“Cause you can have this one,” Cassian went on, sipping from his bottle. “Nesta and I will just make another.”

Azriel gawked, but Rhysand was shoving Cassian in the chest, unable to stop the genuine, little smile that had formed. “Fuck you.”

Cassian laughed, and pulled Rhysand in for a hug by the back of his head. “I’m sorry, man. Something will work out though, you know? You two were meant to be parents.”

He nodded his head, and smiled sadly, though Az could tell it was genuine. “I know we will. We just...never thought that it would be us, you know? You hear all of these stories about people having trouble conceiving, but you also hear about so many accidental pregnancies,” Azriel’s cheeks heated, though he knew it was unnecessary. Rhys went on, “So when you find out that you are the reason you can’t make a kid…” He shook his head. “Makes me feel like a piece of shit. Like I’m not that man I promised her I’d be.”

“Feyre loves you whether you can or can’t, just the same,” Azriel said, quietly. “And just because you can’t make a kid the traditional way won’t make it any less special. We all find different routes to parenthood, it seems. Some routes are harder than others. Never doubt yourself, though. You’re a good man, Rhys, and you’ll be a great husband.”

Rhysand nodded, and clapped Azriel on the shoulder. For a moment, they all stood there in a comfortable silence, dwelling on all that had been said, fully aware there was not much else that could be said to comfort him, but hoping their presence would be enough.

————————————————————————

After Donovan went down for late nap, he didn’t wake up for the rest of the night. A little after eight, everyone had packed up and left, and when they got back to their house, Azriel took Novan to his room and tucked him. He wasn’t sure how long he sat on the floor by his bed, gently brushing his hair off his face, watching him sleep. But he just wanted to be there. To bask in the peaceful moment of loving his son.

His heart was aching for Rhys. He was doing everything he could to fulfill their dream for Feyre but sometimes, there was only so much that could be done.

With a sigh, Az got to his feet and pressed a soft kiss to Novan’s forehead, before cracking the door shut and stepping into the hall. The sound of water had him heading into their bedroom, and the adjoining bathroom, where he found Elain soaking in the tub.

“Well, someone looks relaxed,” he said, pulling the small stool stashed under the vanity to the edge of the tub and resting his arms on the edge. He propped his chin on his arms and glanced down into the water, where Elain was blissfully naked. He glanced up at her and wiggled his eyebrows.

She laughed quietly and said, “Down, boy.”

He smiled broadly and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Well. It’s official. You have yourself a certified baby daddy.”

She laughed as she reached a wet hand out of the tub and brushed back his hair. “Sure do.”

“We’re a family now,” he breathed. “I mean, we’ve always been a family, but...now we can laminate it.”

Elain’s head fell back as she laughed. “You want to laminate our son’s birth certificate? I was just going to put it in the filing cabinet along with everything else.”

He grinned. “Fair enough. I’m just...excited.”

“Good,” she said, quietly. “Me too, for life with you. Our family.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “You look happy.”

“I am happy.”

“You’re beautiful when you’re happy,” he breathed, greeting her with the softest of kisses.

“Hush,” she breathed, blushing, kissing him back, unable to pull the smile from her face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he smiled, and looked down into the water again. Thanks to the oils, salts, bath bomb and whatever else she’d put in the water, he could make out her form, but couldn’t explicitly see her body. “You know, it’s been a long day, I was thinking about taking a bath, too.”

Elain chuckled and asked, “Really?”

Azriel shook his head, “No, not really, but I’ll never pass up an opportunity to be naked and wet with you.” She laughed and he kissed her cheek, heading for the bedroom. “I’ll be back with a bottle of wine and two glasses.”

She sank down into the water a little bit lower and said “Just one glass.”

He turned back, unable to read her expression, and said, “Why just one?”

His face made her chuckle and she said, “Pregnant women can’t drink, Az.”

“Well, I know, but what does that-.” His words broke off as the realization of her words hit him, as her grin spread wide. His voice was just a whisper as he asked, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

She shook her head, excitedly, unable to stop the melodic laughter that fell from her lips. “I’m pregnant, Az.”

His mouth fell open, and for a moment he was frozen in place, but then he was running toward the bathtub and throwing himself into the water, clothes and all. Tears were running down his face as he cupped Elain's cheeks, his knees on both sides of her waist, and kissed her lips.

“You’re serious?” He breathed, lips still on hers.

She nodded and Azriel noticed her tears as well. “They ran it with all of my tests when I was in the hospital. And it came up positive.” She reached down to the floor outside the tub and held up the little plastic stick. “I’m ten and a half weeks.”

“Ten and a half weeks,” he repeated, his heart completely full. “A baby.”

She nodded, laughing as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Don’t go running off this time.”

“Not a chance,” he whispered, and kissed her, showing her just how deep his loyalty ran.

#snelbz lost time #elriel #snacmc #snelbz tacmc collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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baobaojng · 4 years

Text

secrets of the hill (jung jaehyun) - first

secrets of the hill (jung jaehyun) - first, second, third, fourth, fifth

jung yoonoh (jaehyun) x reader - 1800’s jaehyun!au , arranged marriage! au , supernatural-ish?!au , victorian? i think? !au

themes: angst, fluff, (just some implied smut along the way, i’m far too soft)

reminders: i’m half lazy, so i might not be able to drown myself in as much 1800’s facts as i’m supposed to as a responsible author — SO, yes, this will purely rely on fiction

summary: in the present day you are confused; you do not know who you are and you find yourself on an impossible quest to find out— until you wake up in the 1800’s, engaged to a hauntingly beautiful and uptight man who tries to figure out why the girl he’s been betrothed to has drastically changed.

wordcount: 4,024

It has always been so difficult for you to express how disconnected you feel with your own life. Through months and months of therapy you’ve received, none of the diagnoses ever seemed to make perfect sense. Often times when you describe your hurdle, of seeming to be awakened one day into a stage of your life then continuing on as you do not recall anything of your childhood: how you grew up, the people you’ve met, and the tiniest details of your being, they have always tried to pin it down to some psychosis. You even took a few CT-scans to prove that there were no dysfunctional parts in your brain, and some suggested you had amnesia of some sort - but none of them could tell how it came about.

This mystery of a life you have been living has been going on for a year, and in each moment of confusion you never truly understood who you were and how you became this shell of a person. There was a never ending quest of you trying to find out why you felt so out of place.

“Out again?” You hear a voice come from the living room as you go down to pass through and get water from the kitchen.

Moon Taeil notices your attire: the mismatched shades of black thrown in together, but managing to look all the same. He is reading the morning paper as the television plays softly in the background, some tragic news report of a school shooting a few cities away. Background noise for the wicked, a tragedy for those affected. Although, you have to admit that the both of you have never really been so affected by life, or the loss of - sharing the same interest in morbidity and death as if it were a select personality that blended the two of you well.

You see, Moon Taeil was the closest thing you had to family. If you could understand the idea of what ‘family’ was, then it would be him. It seemed that the earliest memory you ever had was in this house you lived in with him, seeing the canvas hung up in the living room - velvet colors hugging the surface, a sad landscape portrayed. When you woke up on the wooden floorboards that afternoon, you had no recollection of anything there. All you knew was that it was warm, and Taeil was staring at you as if he understood what happened. Any first and logical instinct would be to immediately go into hysterics and freak out at the sight of a stranger, but when Taeil first offered a hand for you to get up it only seemed natural to accept his help.

Apparently, your parents both died in a fire years ago, and with nowhere to really go because your family history was close to nonexistent, you were directed to your only known aunt. This aunt was not of any real blood relation, in fact she was the only living close friend of your parents - and she had a son, and he was Taeil. His mother looked after the two of you for only a short while until she died of an illness of the heart, and Taeil was left in charge of you. Before you forgot everything, Taeil had mentioned that you were a practicing engineer that helped through a lot of the improvement of the business the family had, of course you lost some touch to the craft - but you could still easily pick up a thing or two. The family business they ran kept the two of you more than well off; and Taeil, from what you have seen, is really good at managing everything. It was never a hard time trying to get along with him, because it seemed that he did not mind how much you frequented out of the house. To be perfectly fair, it was his fault you were always out of the house anyway.

~ [flasbacks would follow this format]

“Who painted that?” You remember pointing at the painting of the landscape hung up on the living room, asking Taeil this moments after he had to explain to you who you were and who he was.

He was patient enough to nod his head at your question, but his eyes furrowed and his chin extended. “Yuno, an eighteenth century painter.” You hummed in response, still observing the painting hung up. “I’ve collected his works over the years, and he isn’t very popular but he has a very good repertoire.”

“It’s very captivating.”

“Yes, very much so.” You don’t notice, but Taeil could feel how fascinated you were.

A few days later he gave you an old leather bound book, the edges of the pages exposed were already browning.

“What is this for?” You wonder, and he smiles.

“You seemed to really love the painting in the living room, so I thought you might want to see this.” He offers, and you immediately proceed to open at the clasps of the book. You imagined text, or something poetic - but you did not expect to see different sketches and paintings drawn on the pages.

“Is this by...?” You are unsure if you would be able to say the name correctly, afraid of not doing it any justice.

“Yes. I know that there is only this original copy, but rumors say there are a few out there reproduced right after his death, although I wouldn’t know where those are exactly.”

You carefully skip through the pages, “what is this?” It seems, the concept of a book with art from that early on in time is foreign to you.

“In kinder words, it’s a sketchbook.” He shrugs, and you nod off the possibility of it being like that.

But you learn later on in time that you can barely call it a sketchbook, not when you’re absolutely enthralled with the thing. One day, bored out of your mind, you decide to go through the entire thing in one sitting. Something you’ve never done; somehow it has always emotionally exhausted you just looking at one or two pages, and you’d typically close it up and hide it away in the drawer of your bedside table.

Tonight was different as your body was washed through with a wave of nostalgia, and the only thing you could exhaust your emotion on was this damn book.

It was a collection of everything that did not feel real, portraits of people with no names, ponds and lakes with the lilies floating at the surface, and intimidating structures of rooms and buildings. You could and couldn’t understand this painter’s life all at the same time, with each touch of color and coal you felt yourself melt away. When you reached the end of the hundred or so pages, something had caught your eye - the ridged seams of the fiber were sticking out: the last page was ripped and only remnants of black stains were left on whatever else was connected to the book. The only thing you could feel was a surge of hurt, not knowing why you felt it and where it came from. But this missing page ignited some sense of determination to understand your purpose.

This was the beginning to a quest you were determined to finish.

“Yes, I’m going out again. I have to travel two cities over to go to this antique shop, I heard that they sell vintage items.” This was the third time you were going out this week, and it was a Wednesday. You cannot count the many many times you have gone to look for that page, and if you were being realistic about it and the page was meant to be lost - then you did not know how many times you have gone to look for an idea or a clue. Taeil’s collection of Yuno’s works proved to be limited; not answering any of the suspicions you had about the missing page. You did not know exactly what you were looking for, but you were looking for something.

“Be careful.” The only goodbye he bids, and then you’re off again.

Rain greets you the moment you step out of the house, but it is not heavy enough to soak you through the walk to the bus stop. The bus ride you took was rather quiet, only sharing the vehicle with around six other people who were silent as well. The drive would be two hours away, and you knew you would resort to falling asleep to skip the time.

You could not humor yourself with any game on your phone, nor did you enjoy the feeling that social media left you. You could not find it in yourself to listen to music either; always feeling a large disconnection with sound. Taeil once told you that you loved music: the symphonies of strings and the light touches on piano— apparently you were a wonderful dance partner in the ballroom. To which you simply smiled off; you couldn’t argue otherwise.

Sleep captures you, the moving of the vehicle is something you do not mind until you hear the bus dispatcher calling for your stop.

This city looked warm; all the buildings and houses had exposed brick walls, and the streets were lined with shops and orange toned lights. Although the ground was still damp from the light drizzle that was falling down from the sky and the gray clouds inhibited light from passing through, it did not seem sad in these streets. You would have very easily gotten lost, but the dimmest lit shop was the most distracting - and it was exactly the place you were looking for.

Everything about this place was much much larger than you anticipated; the way the place looked from the outside was very deceiving of it’s size. Little passage ways with walls of items and trinkets were countless, like a maze you were trying to skim past through. There were jars, and cans - silverware that was eaten away by the dust. Statues of gods, little porcelain men, and taxidermies of butterflies with little labels on the glass that encased the frame. You could feel the need to sneeze every few seconds each time you turned to face a new corner or direction.

Finding the art section already turned you into a mess; the piles and piles of old frames with mystery paintings were set up in many stacks. You wondered aloud if you were ever going to be able to get through all of this in one go, you had to thank the heavens that they were arranged per ten years.

Now this was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

To you right, Roman paintings of men in red capes. No you did not need that.

Next to that, Greek figurines. Definitely did not need those.

To the father right, Mesopotamian spoons and clay objects. No, now you had to definitely start looking somewhere else.

You scoured through the Mongol works, and those from imperial Japan. Until, bingo. Works from British India next to the works of the Victorian era.

Hands fumbling into the large pockets of your trench coat, you were trying to reach for the book that created a bulky mess inside your clothing. But it alarms you when your hands press against what feels like a stray page, and you immediately fish your hands out to see what it is.

To your surprise, all in black ink - like the remnants of those from the torn page from your book - is a portrait of your own self, with eyes sad, a wavering darkness behind. Body reacting in shock your feet bring you two steps behind, where you knock over a few pieces of silverware.

From around the corner, you hear a panicked voice call for you. He sounds as if he ran for miles with an expression so relieved to see you, “miss, we have been looking all over for you.” This man with white hair, peculiarly dressed in a tailored uniform, he looks familiar.

You realize, he looks exactly like one of the portraits drawn in one of the pages you have pondered upon when you viewed them.

As if your own body cannot take this torment of confusion, you feel your pulse rise to your head.

And then you faint.

“I will see you there soon.” A voice whispers into your ear, unmistakably Moon Taeil’s, and you wake from your slumber.

It would be impossible to ignore the throbbing sensation you could feel buzzing through the back of your neck. So you try to sit up in your wake, moaning terribly at the sensation. This all had to he some terrible dream.

“Miss, you are awake!” Your eyes are wide open, and you definitely would want to believe that this is all still a dream.

“What year is it?” The question rolls out of your lips naturally, because you can definitely note that you do not feel as though you are in a familiar environment.

“It is the time of Queen Victoria, miss.” Goodness, you didn’t expect anybody to answer you back. You had hoped he was a figment of your imagination. The time of Queen Victoria would have meant you were somewhere around two hundred years back, and to anyone who did not see through the situation with less panic and an open mind would think how this was all impossible.

“Where am I?” You say with squinted eyes, but you know you do not know where you are.

“Why you are back in the manor, miss. In your own quarters.” The man that scared you earlier in the antique shop mentioned, and you try to take a look around inside the room. No LED lights and modern dressers, just candles and carpets— lacquered wooden furniture, velvet decorated everything. No. No. No. No. No! This had to be a joke, right?

“My quarters?” No way in hell this was your’s, how could you have something like this in the middle of the fucking times?

“Yes,” he says, worriedly, “my lord has yet to be told of your return, but I do believe you need to recover from your fall.” It was either this was a horrible prank, a kidnapping gone wrong, or he was genuinely speaking his own truth: perhaps he did know you? Surely this was a mix up, maybe he mistook you for somebody else.

“Might I ask,” in your head you realize that you can take advantage of his attentiveness to you - that you might be able to get a little bit more knowledge of the situation, “what is my role in this household?”

“Must you ask such an obvious question?” He gawks, but you pretend that your head aches and you can see how he falters even more.

“It’s just, my head. I believe I might have gotten a concussion from my fall.” Your acting is perfect. Maybe you broke through something here.

“Oh!” He is alarmed. “You are the soon-to-be lady of the house!” Interesting, that would be enough to give you some clue as to why this man is acting overprotective of you. Miss, my lord, the manners. He must be a servant of the time.

“Lady of the house?”

“Soon to be, miss Y/N. You have been living in the manor for a year now, ever since you were determined to take my lord’s hand in marriage.” He used your name. Your name, how did he know your name?

Okay, maybe something was happening and maybe it was true. There was absolutely no way at this point.

“Have you pledged any of your loyalties to me?” You panic, asking him this just so you would be able to take things easier. If you were stuck in a time frame so far away from your own, you had to figure out who you were in this life.

“Yes, but not any more than that to my lord.” He answers honestly.

“Then if I had told you that I’ve lost some of my memories because of my fall, would you tell anyone that I was crazy?” You say, knowing that in this era memory loss could very well be attributed to being a loony.

“I have seen things beyond my own comprehension, miss. I am sure I can keep this much a secret.” He offers a sad smile, but he no longer seems as alarmed as earlier. “Although you would have to tell me the extents of your memory loss; I do not believe the other residents of the manor would take this news with kindness. I would not want to give them any more power to scrutinize your every move. The only thing I wish for is good fortune for your union with my lord, they need not intervene where they are not needed.”

You nod, trying to process everything all at once. “I’m afraid it is everything I have forgotten.” But he only nods his head as if he was expecting that answer from you.

“I will make sure you know enough before the young lord arrives from his travel.” He sends a bow and makes his way out the large double doors.

“What is your name?” You ask him before he is able to exit.

“Yuta Nakamoto, it could also work the other way around, miss.”

“Thank you, Yuta.” You offer him a smile, and he returns the same gesture.

Looking down at the clothing you are wearing, you notice they are still the same things you wore to the antique shop. Remembering the book, you reach out into your pockets and realize that it is no longer there.

Despite your efforts to constantly pinch yourself and slap yourself at the most random times to prove that none of this is real, you find yourself stuck in this manor - in the burrows of time, where there is nothing and no one who can explain to you why you were here - nothing ever really works. Unfortunately, even through the hundreds of times you find yourself pacing inside the room and repeatedly putting your hands in and out of the large pocket of your trench coat, no real answers are offered to you. The moment you breathe in as loudly as you do, you begin to accept your fate.

Then again, you’d like to believe that there is some divine purpose as to why you are set out to be here, but you wonder why it has to be as cruel as this? Was this perhaps a punishment?

To you and Yuta’s advantage, the manor was mostly empty for the two days it took for him to explain everything to you. Only the housemaids who tended to the kitchen and the other chores were there with you.

“I need for you to tell me what their impressions are of me, otherwise I wouldn’t know how to act around them.” You tell Yuta with caution before you enter the kitchen through the stairs of nook near where your quarters were, he woke you up very early to begin with what he called a ‘grand tour.’ You had change out of your questionable modern garments - discovering the scarily large closets filled with corset bodices and petticoats, large layered skirts that you heavily questioned. The thing that relieved you the most was that they were all dyed in your preferred black, although you could not shake off the image of your own portrait off your mind and how that all came to be.

“No worries miss, they adore you.” He says as if it were nothing. And once they meet you, they let out screams of relief. All of them claiming to have missed you, wondering about your whereabouts.

“How long was I gone, Yuta?” Walking through the west wing where apparently his lord kept all the rooms strictly for scholarly uses, you ask this very question. If time and space were any similar from where you came from, you would have been gone for a year.

“About four months, miss.” Not the answer you were expecting. “Although your disappearance has not been noted elsewhere as a disappearance. The lord of the manor has been very upset ever since you had gone, but he made sure to let the news come out as if you had studied far away for the time being.” And there it is again, the mention of this man you are meant to be engaged to.

“Why would he say that if my whereabout were uncertain?” You arch a brow.

Yuta lets a sigh leave his lips as you walk through the rotunda, with the goal to ultimately reach the foyer so he can show you what the gardens look like. “Image is important to my lord, if you have not noticed how grand his home is - I’m sure you will soon come to terms with the idea that you are marrying a very rich man, this means that he has to be sure that all words about him are only kind and unsuspecting. You are from a rather good background yourself, miss; never has anyone seen such a capable lady. His father struck a fair deal with regard to your hand in marriage, and the reason why my lord is able to call all of this his is because he did not refuse you among the other hundreds of choices he had lined up. He had to stray away from the truth because he did not want any panic to ensue on the basis of your sudden loss, but part of me wants to believe that he also hoped that you were going to come back on your own and that you disappeared for good reason.”

Realistically speaking, you find the idea of entering this life with no idea who you were meant to be already disturbing. But the added bonus of being somebody else’s fiancée, granting that you do not know him either, is absolutely nettling.

What did he look like? You think that you must not allow your imagination to go wild, and your mind would settle on a plump man who’s absolutely subordinate to the wishes of his parents. Maybe, just a little pathetic.

How did he treat you? Yuta’s constant adoration for his boss makes you want to believe that he was all kind and benevolent. But you were in the 1800’s! He must have been a perverted misogynist for all you cared!

Did he love you? Apparently you have been engaged for the better part of two years, and yet you haven’t married. But it would mean that you have been living here for quite some time now. Did it mean that the two of you were any familiar with each other?

Just when you expected for the surprises to be over, you notice the large painting hanging by the foyer. A freakishly detailed piece of work that spoke through the many different weavings of people, a crowd painted in front of you - and their limbs seemed to be moving based on how beautiful this piece was painted. You could not mistake this piece for anything else but that of Yuno’s work, and this you could tell by how you memorized those brush strokes and each emotion that flooded through your own body.

Maybe there was purpose to your arrival here in this period of time.

But then the large deep brown wooden doors decorated with accents of gold open, and your eyes skip to find out who just arrived.

The view of a man is the first thing that comes into view, and through his shellshocked expression your own body heats up at the sight of this man. He had the most beautiful hair, impossibly colored down to the richest regal shade of blue. His jaw, the way it clenched, accenting the proportion of his nose and the thickness of the eyebrows that framed everything together. His eyes, the gaze they held. God, this man was art if it were possible.

“My lord.” Yuta greets, panicked. While your eyes skip back and forth to the butler and to the man he had just greeted.

Oh, this was him.

end of first part.

next: second part

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0ghostwriter0 · 3 years

Text

PARANOIA // Thomas Shelby

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three

Fandom: PEAKY BLINDERS | BBC

Pairing: thomas shelby x original character

Timeline: post season five

Warnings: sexual language, extreme profanity and racial slurs, explicit scenes, gory detailing, triggering topics, drug use and abuse, alcohol use and abuse, underaged consumption of alcohol and smoking.

Description: In which the Birmingham boss finds a new ally in London and perhaps something more

Upon Tommy's return home, the bleak winter had taken a turn for the worse. Clear windows were now shivering under soft snow. The morning's milkman had delivered a frozen bottle under the frosty dawn light. Ghostly, The cold cobbled streets of Birmingham held a touch on notoriety with each step taken by the MP. Following his icy return home, Thomas Shelby had moved his family back to the working streets of their past home. At first, this request was vetoed but after a long week fighting with Lizzie more than any other member of the family, the Shelby's were back in Small Heath.

Thomas Shelby, in all of his distinction, entered the Garrison, a simple ghost of its former life, a pub in the rebuilt Small Heath. The place to avoid, as the Shelby clan had cleared it out to hold a family meeting. Among the present, there subsisted Ada, Polly, Arthur but no sign of Fin or Michael. Muttering quietly, Ada and Pol discussed plans for the newest Shelby babe. There was a comforting joy between the two women but Tommy, he was a whole mood on his own. As Fin finally broke through the doors behind him, the stoic brother only looked up to draw a cigarette to his lips.

"Fin!" Arthur's voice boomed as he pointed at the youngest brother while Ada pulled up another chair. Huffing heavily, the young boy took his place at the table. Leaning forward to address the table, Arthur wanted to know everything about the business in London.

"Come on Tom, tell us what's been 'appening in London then" Ada interrupted before Arthur could get a word out. Taking a drag of the lit bud, Thomas leant back to locate an object lodged in his inner jacket pocket. Due to the morning frost that stuck to the charcoal jacket, Tommy's shivers at the cold interior pocket. Softly, the MP plucks a small photograph of an honest woman. The delicate still graces the table contrasting the rugged face of his eldest brother.

"This is the woman-" Thomas began before Ada jumped in.

"Lucille Hughes, Tommy why are we doing business with the Hughes?" she questioned as the image was of a woman shed befriended during her time in London.

"HUGHES! This is why you TWO decided to go to London without... Wait this is why we had to come back, what did you do Thomas Shelby" Polly piped up as her gaze scattered between Arthur and the MP. Before Arthur could say anything to defend their actions, Tommy had already started chuckling to himself as he stubbed out the smoke. His mind wandered to how his sister knew more about Lucille than he did. The dirty blonde curls appeared, once again, in the clouds of his mind.

"Alright, Ms Hughes is open to discussing business with Shelby Limited, right Arthur?" Arthur sent a nod towards Tommy as his brother continued to smirk. In response, Ada and Pol both raised a brow while staring wildly at the MP.

"Tom, the Hughes will have your head if they find out you two are in cahoots," Ada illustrated to the icy blue-eyed man.

"Not me, us, Shelby Company Limited distilleries" Tommy followed up but Ada's frown confirmed his suspicions.

"Livelihood at risk" the words of the beautiful businesswoman echoed in the blinders mind like a harmonious lyric stuck on a gramophone. Thomas pierced his lips together as his mind was thrown back to leaving her office four days ago.

As Lucille walked towards the door of her office go see him out, Tommy took the time to admire the figure. Carefully, looking her up and down, the taller woman confused him. No ring. No tan line. No person. His eyes were constantly drawn back to the image of a strong working woman that resided on her bulky desk. While he was out of view, Tommy stripped the image of Ms Hughes from the desktop. His smile dropped as she turned down his business proposal. Standing immediately, the MP knew he'd have to woo and impress the woman but also look for holes in her business- her masterpiece.

"-Good day, Mr Shelby and send my regards to your dear brother." That was the last thing he wished to hear from her lips. She had sent him away without a second thought and instead of insulting him, this act had further intrigued Tommy. Unwillingly, Tommy exited the modest office into the dense space where the secretary sat fidgeting in her seat. While brushing off his long cotton coat, he zoned out to the exchanged between Ms Hughes and the younger worker until his ears perked up at "Lucille" She was sweet. The young secretary hadn't meant to call her boss by her first name in front of a potential client but instead of correcting the young woman, Lucille (a name me now knew because of that slip up) smiled and retreated to the bare main office.

"Pleasure to meet you Mrs Dennet" Quickly, Tommy plucked a business card from his wintered coat and tossed it to the fumbling woman. During his walk out of the converted warehouse, Tommy took note of the red lights that appeared as he drifted away from the Hughes. As he watched the way the red lights shifting back to a mundane position, he saw the guns held close to their chests. She has security. No. She has people who watch her movements. On Thomas' way out of London, he was constantly drawn back to the image of Lucille he had lifted from her office.

With a cough, Thomas was snapped out of the ripe recollections of his appointment with the elegant woman. Pol smirked as she finally discerned why Thomas was persistent about attempting business with the Hughes. Straightening up his suit, the MP cleared his throat before the Shelbys resumed their meeting about expansion. After three hours and two bottles of whiskey, Thomas got each of his kin on board even Michael who had shown up over an hour tardy.

TAG LIST: @evrthefanatic @i-should-probably-be-asleep-rn @esmmyy @thecavillstache @325575 @pamela-stark98 @abb-lan-5sos @jessiecavill @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat

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thetomorrowshow · 3 years

Text

Slower Than Words Ch. 23

First - Previous - Next

Hey..... a member of my household just tested positive for Covid-19, and I am displaying symptoms sooooooo hopefully that won’t affect posting but it has made this chapter a little shorter than I had wanted. Basically if the next chapter isn’t out on time that’s why.

cw: b a d parenting, references to trauma

Remus chewed on the end of his pen. Riley, Alberts, Robertson, Robinson, Richards, Allison, Reese, Arlowe . . . something that started with an 'A' or an 'R'. But what? Why couldn't he remember his own last name?

Logan was always saying something about brainwashing and trauma, but Logan knew his own last name! Stupid Logan Sanders and his calm explanations for everything in Remus's life. He didn't want someone telling him how he felt or why, he wanted to move on. He wanted to figure himself out for himself. He wanted out.

The trip to the library a couple weeks ago had been even worse than expected. Logan hadn't even let go of Patton, despite how uncomfy the kid looked. It had to suck to be twenty-something and have your dad drag you around by the shoulders everywhere you go.

Patton had only wanted one book, for some reason. There were so many books in that building, and Logan had pulled like a hundred from the shelves just to show him. He'd signed so quickly about the book that Remus couldn't keep up, but Logan had frowned and talked to the librarian for a few minutes, before eventually presenting Patton with a book—which was probably the one he'd been asking for. His face looked weird after receiving it, happy, but also seriously depressed. It looked pretty old, Remus had no idea why he'd wanted that book.

Rivers, Albright, Abbott, Ramsey, Russell, Reed, Rowell, Austen. . . . Nothing. Not even a smidge of anything. Well, if he couldn't remember his last name, what about the name of where he used to live?

The city came to him almost instantly.

Sharon.

Remus snorted. That was a stupid name for a city. Actually, he could remember joking about it with his brother, about how their mom shared it.

Energy flooded to his limbs with a suddenness, and when the bell rang from the door opening beside him he literally fell out of his seat.

“W-welcome to Chevron,” he said, straightening up. The customer nodded barely at him, making a beeline for the refrigerators in the back. Remus quickly wrote on the scrap of paper he'd been doodling circles onto so far: 'sharon – town and ma'.

Now he just had to figure out which state sounded the most familiar, and if Sharon was a city there. He'd spent days just driving around town with friends, he probably still knew his way around.

The customer paid for a few jugs of Gatorade, then left, dust puffing up behind his truck as he pulled out of the parking lot. Remus sat back down, scratching his mustache with his pen. He could google the city when he got home, then. . . .

Then he'd figure out how to tell Patton and Logan he was leaving.

Patton sighed, flipping through the first half of the book again. Summer, it was called. This copy looked almost identical to the other one. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers along the slightly indented title, like Virgil would. He'd had it for almost two months now, asking Father to renew the book instead of allowing it to be returned. He really wanted to finish it, after all.

Not that he could ever get himself to read past around the middle.

Patton's notebook was almost full now, but he couldn't ask Remus for another. Not after how much Remus was already doing for him. The pages were filled with studying mouth movements, bad jokes, and journal entries that mostly were about Virgil and what they'd do when they were together again. In tiny, cramped handwriting was a detailed recollection of everything Patton could remember that Virgil told him about where he lived—which wasn't much. It was hard to hold on to any memories from there. His therapist said it had to do with trauma memories being stored incorrectly, and said he might have flashbacks about it. So far, none had happened, but sometimes he wished one would—just so he could see Virgil again.

He wasn't good at drawing, but here and there in his notebook were vague sketches of Virgil. Some days, Patton woke up not sure what he looked like. He couldn't forget him. Patton would never forgive himself if he forgot the lovely mistiness of Virgil's eyes, the way his hair fell into his mouth and made him sputter, the stark paleness of his face against his black hoodie. . . .

Patton wrapped the hoodie around himself. He needed to think about something else, or else he'd start crying again. Crying made his head and ears hurt, which his doctor said would probably always be the case. So he mostly did his best to not cry, ever.

Patton cast his mind around for something new to think about, and landed on the trip to the library several weeks ago. The trip wasn't . . . optimal?

No. The trip sucked.

Father wouldn't let go of him, which just made him feel like a toddler having to be guided around. It was bright, and had a lot of people, and was a little startling, but Patton was sure he could have handled it. Why didn't Father trust him?

It wasn't just that. Father made him go to bed at a specific time every night, wouldn't let him have any say in what he ate, wouldn't even let him pick what to watch on the TV. It was . . . it was stupid! It was awful, it was embarrassing, it was demeaning! It made Patton feel worthless, like he wasn't even a proper member of society! He wasn't a boy anymore, he had even had a job back at the Haven, he wasn't helpless!

Maybe soon, with all that he'd been learning, he could prove to Father that he was capable. And if Father wouldn't believe him, well . . . Patton would have to make him.

Again, that anger was right at the surface, ready to spill out into the air. At least he had the book.

Somehow, Logan had let Remus convince him that he didn't need to go to every therapy appointment with Patton, so Logan was at home alone. For the first time in months. He was exhausted, but he did not have time to sleep.

Patton was hiding something. Logan was undeniably certain of it. And when Patton hid something, he hid it under his bed.

Logan didn't get up immediately. This was a matter of privacy, after all. He understood that he was likely being a little too restricting with his son, but who could blame him? He'd almost lost him. So if Patton was hiding something, it was likely best to know what it was. Patton didn't seem to realize the amount of danger he was in. It wasn't his fault, he was just a child. Children weren't supposed to worry about this sort of thing, it was their parents' jobs to care for them. So, naturally, he had to make sure that whatever Patton was hiding wasn't going to bring harm in some way. If it was, he could gently confront him about it, and explain why it was not acceptable.

With that plan in mind, Logan stood from his desk and made his way to Patton's room. His door was always open, even when he was inside—it made sense, all things considered.

The room still had almost precisely the same setup as Logan had put together, down to the making of the bed. He'd told Patton that he was allowed to customize his room and ask for personal items, but so far he had done neither of those things. The only difference was that the small closet now had a few more pieces of clothing in it.

Logan bent to his hands and knees beside the bed and peered beneath. Sure enough, there were items underneath the boy's bed: a battered blue notebook, the singular book that he had wanted from the library last month, the jacket that had belonged to the other other prisoner. Logan reached for the notebook, grunting when his back popped.

He pulled himself onto Patton's bed to open it. It was confusing, at first, some jokes in his son's handwriting, rather poor sketches of an unfamiliar face. Then. . . .

Oh.

That—that was bad.

Logan took a few deep breaths, then flipped another page, then another. More of the same. This wasn't good. This was not good at all.

These diagrams and instructions, clearly for lip-reading? These would get Patton taken away from him. These would hurt him. These would make Patton want to leave the safety of home.

These were dangerous.

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siremasterlawrence · 3 years

Text

Steve Rogers lay on the medical slab in the Shield issued Helecarrier after being rescued from the ice. He has been in a sleep like induce state for well over a year now, because of the incident as they called it when he woke up.

Obviously, it is not his fault at all when he woke up to find a poor fabrication of a hospital room from his time. A man out of his time it is only natural he freaks out in the middle of Times Square.

That is what Sam Wilson thinks to himself as he watches over his client in the room.He barely left his side for well over that year, and in fact he joins Shield just for the case.

Sam is suddenly shell shock out of his own thoughts, the machines hooked to Steve are rising, and he thrust upward in quick fashion. “Where am I? Who are you?” Steve can’t help himself his pulse racing.

“Just a friend, I promise you everything is alright, and you are in for a world of many surprises.” Sam says confidently applying a bit of pressure. Something in the man’s voice made sense to Steve it felt right.

Sam sighs as Steve lays back down lost to the world in confusion, and all goes to hell when Super Spy Nick fury enters the room. “How is our guest doing? Are you in need of anything?” Fury ask.

“Something does not feel right? Where are my troops? Did hydra get my unit? What about Bucky?” Steve’s head scrambling on his own questions. “I told you that mind mapping would not work Fury get out.” Sam shouts.

“Hi Mr. Rogers, my name is Sam Wilson a certified therapist at the VA, and I am here to help transition you in to the new world.”Sam’s voice once again has a calming affect on him.

“We are not in Germany any more are we?Did we win the war?” Steve questions with a more level headed thoughts process as he sits up. He takes a deep breath waiting for a answer.

The alarm blares on before Sam could say anything, the protocols begins locking down the room, and they are trapped in together for the long haul. “Sorry, Steve I can’t answer your questions right now, but I can provide you with yet best answers available.”

“What is this exactly?” He asks opening the suitcase sitting on his lap to reveal all of his items. The only things he had left as far as he is concerned, and a letter on top of a massive folder.

Dear Steve,

My dearest love if you are reading this it means your mission has only just begun.You woke up in the future fought against many unique opponents, and found your way back to me.

Unfortunately, due to recent events due to the timeline changes, and everything we went through. You had to undue our many years, please do not regret your actions because I shall always treasure this in my heart.

Love,

Peggy Carter.

“Peggy, my love...is this the future Sam? He says.

“It’s complicated Steve, but during the war you fell in to the ocean. Your were frozen alive till a few years ago.”

“Loki...Ultron...Thanos those names they sound familiar, and keep playing in my head.” Steve is overcome as he says it.

Steve hold his head laying his elbow on the table, he begins to sob hard, and Sam grabs on to his shoulder.

“You shall remember in due time Steve I promise.” He adds giving him some space.

Everyday Sam would begin, and end his day with Steve. Slowly giving him bits of information and his brain actively comes Bach to life.

They sit down discussing the last seventy five plus years, Steve’s eyes pop at the lessons he is learning, and Sam is in awe at his child like mannerisms.

Sam not always comfortable listens to Steve’s tales of his life, and watches as he reminisces about the past. Steve finds out more about Sam triggering memories.

The gasp start to close one day at a time till it all fell in to place. Steve has always been a Boy Scout so he had to admit the truth.

“Sam Wilson my friend so glad to see you .” Steve says with a smile.

“Someone is awfully cheery today huh?” Sam adds.

“Finally getting my memories back and in order.” Steve says with a smile.

“Excellent news!” Sam says sincerely he is refusing to show sadness.

Steve pulls out the letter from Peggy days later almost forgetting about. He never felt he could miss the past less and less.

He ripped the letter in to pieces throwing it in the trash, he shakes his head ready to move on.

“Hey Bucky, I missed you pal.” Steve said patting his back.

“Are you looking for Sam? He left Shield on a mission.”

“I don’t know any of the sorted details it is a solo act.” Bucky replies exiting the hall.

Steve Rogers felt a tug deep down inside his heart, and he knew something is off.

Steve storms down the hallway in anger of the situation and enter Furies Qauters.

“Where is Sam Wilson? What is wrong with him?” Steve demands to know.

“You really take care of your friends don’t you Rogers?” Fury eggs him on.

“A private matter out of Shields jurisdiction for now.” Fury states.

“Taking time off for himself.” Fury shakes his head leaving him be.

A week later Sam appears back on post very calm.

He is engaging in very flirtatious, and sexy conversation with this guy.

Steve has enough of this secrecy brushing with pass the man, and dragging Sam to the side.

“Did I do something wrong Sam? Talk to me please, because never in my life did I feel so connected.” He struggles to say.

“Even now after having a had another life time in the past, and one that I can’t try to recollect.” He states.

“I am so in awe of you Sam Wilson that I am ready to move on from Peggy.” He says.

“I need your strength.” He begs as Bucky walks by.

“Go ask Buck, and we are friends Steve .”

Sam continues.

“Listen to me...I want you not Peggy or Sam.” he finishes.

“Only you, because you complete me in everyway possible.” His facial expression covers with red.

Steve kisses Sam out of the blue their lips sizzle with electricity so hot. Steve shakes in his bed as his eyes pop open, and it is all a dream.

“Sam.” He whispers before falling a sleep again. Peggy’s back towards Steve face hiding the sadness in her heart.

The end.

More to come soon.

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