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freedomseeker91 · 2 years

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The Ultimate Betrayal....

Chapter 18

Title: Begin Again

Summary: As Chloe struggles to wrap her head around the realities of Beca’s time as a POW, the former soldier surprises both of them with something neither one of them was expecting.

Rating: T for Angst

Warnings: Mentions of torture.

Standing in the bathroom, hands grasping the edges of the porcelain sink, head bowed over the bowl, Chloe released the tears she had tried so hard to hold back as Beca unpacked the trauma of her time kept as a prisoner of war. She had tried desperately to keep them in during their discussion but her emotions had gotten the better of her, and when the first traitorous tear had fallen, it relinquished what little hold she had on the dam keeping them in place.

To Beca’s credit, she never gave any indication that Chloe’s tears bothered her. How could she be the one crying when Beca was explaining to her the horrific details of her time in captivity? But Beca had been more than sympathetic. She understood that it was hard to hear. Nothing about her time in Afghanistan was pleasant.

From admitting that she had shaved her own head to dehumanise herself, because the lack of femininity made her less appealing to the men who would’ve otherised raped her for their own sick pleasure. Admitting that the soldiers had been forced to soil themselves as a means of degrading them.

That every morning without fail, they would be beaten or whipped for information until they physically passed out, and even then, they sometimes carried on just to prove a point. Beca couldn’t count the amount of broken bones that the soldiers themselves had been forced to treat with minimal medical intervention. She herself had been concussed so many times, she often wondered of the long-term consequences she may have.

Beca explained in graphic detail the depth of her injuries, the numerous times a fellow soldier had been forced to try and stitch the open wounds on her back because they were so deep. The pain of laying in bed with burning flesh having been seared by a flaming hot rod. But those where just the physical brutalities. So many times soldiers had been forced to overcome illness without the proper means to recuperate.

Beca knew that her immune system was compromised, she fell ill much more often than she used to and with how poor the state of her organs had been upon returning home, particularly with her kidney function, she knew that there was every possibility she could suffer further problems down the road.

So much hurt, so much pain, so much trauma. Chloe had struggled to hold down the bile rising up the back of her throat by the time Beca had explained just how she had lost her legs. Strung up like a half dead animal, arms chained above her head while her feet were shackled to the floor, her restraints leaving no room for movement.

Beca could still vividly remember the pain as the flaming hot poker had been stabbed through her lower legs, the assailant making sure to twist the rod on its way in and out just to make sure she felt every ounce of pain that could be inflicted upon her. The smell of burning flesh mixed with the metallic scent of blood still lived inside her nostrils, it was a scent she would never forget. How could she when every single time she looked down or caught her reflection in a mirror, she was reminded of what she had lost?

Aubrey had been right, Chloe needed to hear all of this before the trial. There was no way she could’ve kept it together hearing it in front of a room full of people for the first time. It was….a lot. More than she was prepared for and somewhere, in the back of her mind, she made a mental note to speak with her own therapist about it so she could navigate how to work through it.

She wanted to understand everything in a way that made it easier for her brain to process it so that she didn’t become overwhelmed by it. She wanted to be able to be the person Beca could lean on to talk about all of that suff. But she realised now that meant learning how to process it herself so that she could regulate her emotions and find more positive ways to filter the information.

Glancing up into the mirror, Chloe began wiping at the tears that had fallen down her face and then turned on the cold tap, cupping some of the water in the palm of her hands and splashing it on her face, the ice cold feeling of the water doing enough to pull her out of the depths of her emotions so she could breathe again.

Taking the towel hanging from the rail next to the sink, she wiped her face and hands and turned the tap off, taking one last look at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but at least she looked somewhat more together than she had been when she had excused herself to the bathroom. Neatly folding and tucking the towel back over the rail, she turned toward the door and made her exit.

Stepping out into the small corridor she saw Beca still perched on the couch where she had left her, a cushion now resting in her lap as she fidgeted with the label of a beer bottle Chloe had grabbed for her earlier. Beca didn’t drink often, what with all of her medications and mobility issues, it just wasn’t something she was willing to partake in. She didn’t want to mess up her recovery.

But some conversations just required a little something more than coffee to take the edge off. Walking over towards the couch, Chloe gestured toward the bottle as Beca’s head lifted in time to see her approach.

“Do you want another? Or I could make you some of that herbal tea? I was gonna make one for myself anyways,” Chloe offered and Beca placed the empty beer bottle down on the stand next to the arm of the couch.

“Tea sounds good, it might help me sleep better,” Beca replied, giving Chloe a grateful smile.

The redhead nodded her head and made her way to the kitchen, making quick work of boiling the water and adding the teabags to the cups she had pulled from the cabinets. Once the water had boiled and the two cups were filled, she carried them carefully into the living room, placing Beca’s down on the stand next to her before she took her seat back in the spot she had vacated earlier.

As Beca thanked her and they both took a minute to enjoy the first sips of their hot beverages, they couldn’t help but acknowledge the heavy feeling in the room. It wasn’t tension, far from it, it was more of an unease. Not with one another, but with the realities of being a prisoner of war.

It was a concept so foreign to so many that it almost felt like something that was made up in movies, something to create drama or tension. But this wasn’t the movies, it was real life and as much as Chloe never wanted to make Beca’s experience about her, it hurt her so deeply thinking about what Beca had been through. Her heart literally constricted every single time she thought about what those animals had put those soldier through.

“’I’m sorry,” Beca finally whispered, breaking the silence. Chloe looked up at her, curiosity in her eyes.

“For what?” she asked as Beca ran her finger over the rim of the mug in her hand.

“That was a lot to take in, I shouldn’t have just dumped it all on you like that,” she elaborated. Chloe simply shook her head, waving off the comment as she placed her own mug down on the coffee table, before twisting sideways and leaning back against the couch.

“Bec’s I’m glad you told me. I mean, not glad, I hate what you went through with every fibre of my being,” Chloe said, eyes ablaze as she spoke, “but I’m glad that you told me, that you opened up. I know it wasn’t easy.”

Gazing into Chloe’s eyes, Beca felt something she hadn’t felt in a while. That spark, the one that she remembered from before her last tour, the one that carried her through two years of torture. That feeling that only Chloe Beale was ever able to ignite.

Relinquishing one of her hands from the mug she was holding, Beca reached over and grasped Chloe’s hand with her own, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she interlocked their fingers, basking in the feeling of the hand she was holding responding to her soft squeeze with a firmer one of its own.

Chloe stared at their joined hands, a smile edging its way across her face as she glanced back up at Beca who was gazing back at her with her own soft smile. After a moment, the brunette licked her lips, brow furrowed as she thought about what was ahead of them.

“This isn’t going to be easy you know, the trial,” Beca said, her eyes lifting back up to Chloe, “they’re gonna throw everything at us to get Chicago off.”

Chloe just shook her head lips pursed at the thought.

“I don’t care. They can throw whatever the hell they want at us. We’re stronger than that,” Chloe simply replied, not a single ounce of uncertainty in her voice.

Gripping Beca’s hand tighter, Chloe reached over with her other hand and encased Beca’s between both of hers.

“Nothing will ever break me or hurt me like those two years we were apart. Chicago’s already done his worst there’s nothing he can do at this point that could ever compare. He did everything he could to get what he wanted and he still lost. So let them say what they want, try whatever they want, it doesn’t matter. Nothing will stop me from sitting in that courtroom with you and watching him get what he deserves.”

Beca wasn’t sure what was running through her mind, hell she wasn’t even sure her brain was engaged, but before she knew it, that spark that had been swelling inside suddenly exploded. With the hand still holding Chloe’s, she tugged the redhead closer and before she knew it, their lips were connecting.

Chloe was momentarily stunned into inactivity, her brain trying to catch up to what was happening. But then she registered the soft feeling of Beca’s lips against her own and, as if on instinct, even after over two years of being apart, they reacted to the familiar feeling of being kissed by the woman before her.

Lifting her hand she cupped Beca’s face in her palm as she savoured the sweet taste of kissing the love of her life again. It was beyond words, beyond any sense of expression. Chloe’s heart was soaring in ways she never thought it would again.

Then Beca was breaking the kiss, but she didn’t pull away, she simply rested her forehead against Chloe’s, her eyes closed, both of them panting for breath.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over my me I just, I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” Beca smiled.

Chloe couldn’t help the grin on her face as she shook her head, eyes welling with the happiness of tears.

“Don’t ever apologise for kissing me. I’ve been dreaming about it since the day you left,” she replied.

Both women sat there taking everything in. Sure, they may have been breaking their own rules and rushing ahead a little bit, but it felt so right. If felt, like coming home. After everything they had been through, didn’t they deserve a little bit of happiness? Beca gave Chloe one more peck before sitting back a little but never releasing Chloe’s hand.

“I still think we should take things slow, and, I’m not ready for everything. But I want you to know, I wouldn’t be opposed to doing that again,” Beca said sounding a little nervous.

Chloe simply smiled at her, a warm, heartfelt smile as she leaned in as if to test out Beca’s previous statement and kissed her again.

“Good, because I would really like to do this more often.”

#Bechloe #Pitch Perfect #FanFic Drabble #The Ultimate Betrayal #Chapter 18

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bluedevilsrpg · 1 year

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MOON BLADE

STRIKER. W. ( 28 ) Neelam Gill. TW: implied emotional & physical abuse

HISTORY

YOU TOUCH THE MOON THROUGH YOUR FINGERTIPS AND IT SUBMITS. The manner in which your mother severed you from her womb grew the invisible roots of your very own decay. She does not touch you, restraint in her fingertips as she calls you to stay away. Into the woods you went as the girl with no home to call her own. You make a game of pretending because, you see, this was what you did best - there never was a woods, there was never a little girl who was undesired. It was merely easier for you to separate yourself from the creature you called your mother. Such a vicious entity that only brought you forth into this world to be what she could not be. But there was no choice, not when all the other sisters who came before you were slain by her brutal affection. You, with your unwillingness to fall prey to the same fate, held onto the facade of a harmless, sorry thing. You were not stubborn in your submission, instead, you wore your weakness as your hide.

Even as the rain stung your skin and the light hurt you; you survived in the very flesh of your mild nature. You were sweet to the monster, mercy, mother, please. But even as you played the part of a wispy weed, there was strength and cunning strategy laid beneath. You learn all too well how to discern every slight contortion and play them to your own tune. You manipulate and bend, never using your own hands to commit your atrocious acts of violence. Through a series of harmless incidents, you become the one that slays the beast. But in the truest fashion, it is never by your touch - for who would believe a girl who only knew how to smile woefully and cry sorrowfully?

CONNECTIONS

ANGEL OF TERROR ⌱ TO BE HOLY, ONE MUST DEVOUR THE HEART OF A GOD

He reeks of the stench of grief and abyssal anguish, the shadow of damned souls trailing every footstep. It was in the horror of the grim that drew your attention to his teachings. Unlike his other followers, you weren’t spineless nor were you quietly pious in your worship. A baptismal made of grotesque limbs stretched in prayer, you yearn for more than what he offers. In those cold, calculating eyes, you reach through to the very depths and wonder: if you drown in his scent and gnaw through his flesh - will you too become untouchable? Will you be able to ascend into the divine world as a god of your own choosing? The delectable taste of being reborn plays in your mind. You hide your greed in the pauses between your words. Your ambition is unseen, but hidden behind the facade of a fearful sheep is an insidious wolf growling with hunger. One day when he finishes his last word, you will dismantle the prophet with a knife pointed toward his own God. To become heaven’s new voice, a sacrifice in blood is required to begin the first chapter of your reign.

CROOKED HOUND ⌱ AND FROM YOUR SCALP I WILL TAKE ALL THAT IS YOURS

Of your new life where your mother became his father’s whore - you were tucked into the shadows like a mistake begging to be rewritten. Palace life was suffocating as were the new step siblings that you were made to bow to; their arrogant faces looking at you from above with disdain. You wore a mask of meekness while you plotted behind their backs as a means of your own retribution. Perhaps you believed yourself clever and capable of amassing power regardless of the blood in your bones. Yet of all the people who stood in your way, it is he who sees through the faux flesh you wore. You’ve learned to inhale defeat by the way in which he maneuvered. His warnings were always made with tact and discretion, one that left you on your knees as he never ceased to remind you of your place. He treats you like filth and you caress the wrath that lights aflame like a war beneath your soul. You shall take everything he’s desired, the crown, the kingdom, the subjects and bring upon ruination when you remake yourself, a new evolution from the prey to the predator.

LITTLE MISS RED ⌱ THE SCREAM OF GRIEF IS A MELODY THAT YOU AND I KNOW TOO WELL

You loved your sisters with a fierce protectiveness ever since your mother proved incapable of truly loving. So you took it upon yourself to care and watch out for all that would pose a threat to them. Perhaps it was jealousy when you found your sister in a delusion, raving about her love to an ill-fitting man. He was the son of a notorious family that was incapable of anything beyond bloodshed. How could he bewitch your dearest sister in all his evil ways? So you took matters into your own hands, feigning innocence when in reality you made no mistake of sending him to his death. The tale was to end with nothing else but your sister's tears and her life, or so you thought. It wasn’t until you felt the same pain you had inflicted on him from his sister that you allowed hate and spite to seep through you. You killed someone she loved, she killed someone you loved - you are transfixed by the idea of her end next.

QUEEN OF PLAGUE ⌱ MY HEART HITS THE GROUND LIKE AN EARTHQUAKE

It was perhaps the differences in your exteriors that created a magnetism that neither of you were able to resist. You remember your mouth opened in awe at her magnificence and her regality. This was what true power looked like. She appeared to be untouchable and all knowing. Compared to her, you were nothing more than a stepdaughter of a measly providence. But you wanted to have everything she had and more. This unwavering loyalty was a devotion that became an infatuation. She taught you the tricks of the upper echelons and you blindly followed. It wasn’t until you learned that she manipulated you to do her dirty work that you allowed anger to fester. But there’s no satisfaction in standing still when she looks upon you haughtily. It is her arrogance and madness that fuels you to quietly disassemble the mask she dons.

MOON BLADE IS CLOSED & THEIR SPECIAL STAT IS AGILITY.

#moon blade.#all.#agility.#closed.

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followthemoonrp · 2 years

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☾ Crescent City has a new denizen~☾

Please welcome Kim Yong Sun;

A malakhim from the House of Sky & Breath;

He is a City Head also known as The Governor

face claim (stage name/legal name): gong yoo (actor) physical age: 43 new to crescent city?: No. He would have been in the city for a very long time. defining features: the malakhim tattoo on the arm pack/family (if applicable): n/a occupation: city head - the governor

powers: enhanced strength, speed, and regeneration abilities. fly at high speed. elemental control of lightning. i was imagining perhaps he can summon thunder and dark clouds in the sky, then make lightning strike the ground/his enemies. strengths: open minded, collected, he is literally a super strong archangel, good at compartmentalizing his emotions weaknesses: helfire, tight spaces, weapons associated with helfire, love

personality: disciplined, patient, and decisive. yongsun believes in fairness and would never enforce a rule on citizens that he himself cannot follow. he likes to hear everyone’s opinions on topics of interest. in meetings, he is always the last to express himself, but because he’s the final person to speak, he expects his words to carry weight.

as an individual, he smiles often and can be very kind, but should people step out of the line and heed no warning, then that smile just may become the last thing they’ll ever see. his ruthless side can be frightening, as he will spare no one, not even the wailing infants in your household, should you commit a crime heinous enough and be caught on unbent knees. yongsun shows more mercy to people for their crimes if they are willing to publicly admit their guilt and beg for forgiveness. under those circumstances, the individual’s family may be exiled or otherwise punished instead of eliminated.

he rarely attends executions himself, as he believes his attendance will give the accused too much honor.

bio: yongsun was appointed the governor by malakhim territories outside of the crescent city in his early 30s and has been in the position for approximately ten years. prior to his appointment, he was known for his strength, devotion to the gods and his people, as well as for his impeccable reputation. even as a youth, he would have been the one the parents around him compared their kids to - the one so perfect that he almost felt unreal.

to maintain such a spotless record required a lot of time and dedication on his behalf. yongsun had always been aware of the fact he might become governor one day and worked steadily towards his goal. he did not allow himself to have fun, let loose, and considered the extra restraints he carried to be part of the price he must pay for power.

he had two lovers, one when he was young and the other after he became the governor. the first lover gave him a child and left him because she needed freedom and his life was full of structure. the second lover he couldn’t help but gave his heart to, only for it to end in betrayal and death. he killed that second lover himself and to this day preserves the blood-stained dagger that was the weapon in a crystal case - it was a reminder to himself that he must never love again.

no longer interested in finding a soulmate, all who seek intimacy with governor kim now must subject themselves to strict background checks. in addition, when/if they enter his bed-chamber, they must be fully bare to demonstrate they are not carrying weapons.

#cc: welcome #krp #kpop roleplay #gong yoo #crescent city rp #supernatural rp

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writteninscarlet · 4 months

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Peace was never an option. That’s what their actions were screaming at her. Wanda didn’t believe that for one fucking second. There could have been compromise and a level of peace, even if it wasn’t solid or stable. Nothing good came all at once. They could have worked on it together and promoted a level of companionship and trust between nations. Instead, haters would always do what they did best: fear what they did not understand. Wanda know fear well, and though it had long been a curse she could she the gifts fear sometimes could bring. But their fear was unnatural and they were blinded by ignorance.

Mutants and humans were not destined to fight continually. It was not some law of fate, it wasn’t something written in stone that could not be diverted. There was no need to be mortal enemies, when even a grudging rivalry would be better for both parties.

The screams were now vocal and loud and primal. Someone was in PAIN.

Wanda didn’t want to face Kate Pryde’s wrath, the young mutant could be incredibly vicious and was as lethal as they came. Already the organised group was becoming disorganised in the chaos of lost limbs and lost lives. Wanda couldn’t focus too much on what the brunette was doing, she had her own bigots to deal with, but Kate was dancing through the crowds and leaving a trail of bodies in her wake. Wanda was not dancing - yet - but she was moving swiftly and capably.

Her hexes were enough to ward most away, and to take them out completely. For those who dared step even closer, Wanda was kindly showing them the results of training from some of the best physical fighters the Avengers and other heroic teams had to offer.

She was angry. Rage was pulsing through her, a flash fire deep within. It wasn’t all consuming this time like such emotional outbursts had been in the past. Wanda was very much still herself, but she knew that such a rage wasn’t going to go any time soon and that some of her hexes were perhaps stronger than needed. But her rage was fuelled by injustice and pain. There was more than enough fuel to keep the fire going. These anti-mutant haters had picked on the wrong two mutants. These woman were going to obliterate them.

Or close enough.

They couldn’t kill them. Not all of them. Not unless necessary.

It didn’t matter that THEY had started the fight. It didn’t matter that Wanda and Kitty had been doing no wrong. They were simply two friends in a public space. It didn’t matter that THEY would happily kill the two mutants or make a show of them. This fight would end up in the news if it wasn’t somehow hushed up first, and it would be the mutants of the world who would come of looking worse.

There was a flashing pain in her side as she released someone had thrown something - a knife? A pole? Something. Didn’t matter what unless she somehow found out that there injury was infected later. It was enough to know that it was bleeding, but not heavily. She wasn’t dying on her feet, and she should have seen it coming. The hexes stopped, briefly, as she punched the fucker nearest hee. A clean cut to the throat, a gargling sound from the man perhaps two or three times her weight, down he went.

Her hands moved as quickly as a speedsters, the hexes coming more frequently now. Things were TOO chaotic.

She sensed Kate by her side, and said (though was sure Kate knew it too), “We need to finish this quickly. We’re drawing too much attention. Someone could get hurt.” Someone OTHER than the idiots and bastards currently around them. She didn’t know how Kate was doing either. Wanda thought she could feel a magnificent bruise forming on one of her cheeks, and there was the cut above her hip of course. Probably others. These were humans and no REAL match for either of them. But their sheer number told her this had been organised, and that someone above the level of these goons knew the mutants wouldn’t be prepared to annihilate and kill them. They had to exert restraint. That meant taking a few blows.

“I wouldn’t trust them to organise a piss up in a brewery,” she added through gritted teeth as the end was in sight. A few more fell. A couple left. So was behind it? There were any number of organisations that might wish mutants harm, from Orchis to Hydra to AIM and beyond (to other mutants in fact).

Closed Starter ;; @onlyaphcse

#onlyaphcse #ᗢ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ once and always a witch ; ic #tw; injury #tw; blood

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growandrecover · 2 years

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hello i need a bit of advice, i hope thats ok;

i’m 18 and i think i have a bed. my parents recently went on holiday for two weeks, leaving me at home alone (i have exams), during this time i felt fully in control of what i was eating. i was eating good meals and only ate too much a few times and was overall making good progress towards my goals. (cutting out foods that make me feel sick, not eating too much so that i’m uncomfortable, eating 3 meals a day, being generally healthier). because i was in control of the food i was making and therefore buying, i didn’t buy foods that i binge and it was great. cut to now, my parents come back from their holiday with one of those big duty free things of my favourite sweets and i immediately felt all my self restraint go and ended up eating half of it in one go, destroying my progress from the last two weeks. they go food shopping a few days later and buy 3! tubs of ice cream that normally eat way too much of. i don’t want them to keep buying these things but i don’t want to arouse any suspicion that there’s something wrong with the way i eat? so i’m not sure what to say. my mum is literally like 🤨🤨🤨 if she sees me eating a salad or things that are generally healthier than what i used to eat. on top of that she’s on one of those bozo slimming milkshake diets at the moment and thinks that she’s the only one who has an issue with how they look, combined with the fact that my parents really aren’t in a position to get me the help i need because my dad is really ill and the financial and emotional burden would be too much for them to handle i just don’t know what to do. my main issue is them buying things that i overeat and i dont know how to tell them to stop without it becoming suspicious but any advice generally would be appreciated. i know this is superrrr long so thank you so so much in advance <33333

hi :)

i want to start this off by saying that i’m so sorry this has been happening to you, i know that eating disorders are so hard on people’s minds and the way they view themselves. i totally get where you’re coming from and you’re not alone. i’m so glad that you were able to have a good couple weeks, you should be really proud of yourself!!

as for communicating your issues with your parents, you could ask them not to buy those foods because they upset your stomach, they just don’t make you feel good physically, or you’re trying to eat better. since your mom has her own diet going on right now, she’d most likely understand if you told her that you want to start eating less of your binge foods (without telling her they’re your binge foods if you’re not comfortable).

but, if you get to a point where you want to let them know, or if you just decide you want to tell them, you could say something like, “hey, sometimes i binge and it makes me fell really bad about myself, if you guys could stop buying these foods, that would be a big help.”

i hope this helps and i wish you the best of luck ❤️

if you want to reach out again, please don’t hesitate!

#asks

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austarus · 3 years

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HR Wells x Reader - Reversal of Denouement

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.

**Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

***I’d also like to thank @grimtamlain-writes for being my beta reader.

Word Count: 8251

MASTERLIST

A low groan left HR's lips. His body felt numb, his chest ached - tingled as his heart beats steadily. Is it beating? The darkness of his eyelids eased the stinging coming from his mind – it wasn’t so bright. The headache formed there. His body screamed at him as the novelist made the slightest of movement. His left shoulder in particular had protested in desperate agony. He couldn’t move it very much, the area succumbed to restraints of some sort. HR’s throat felt raw as his body throbbed, the blood coursing meticulously through his blood vessels. The sound of a soft voice greeted his ears, but his eyes refused to open.

"I... you, HR... even if... see it." The voice was so familiar, so gentle. So sweet. "Should... better." A drop of water hit his numbed hand, static still prominent there from the little movement his body had done. “I wish…” The dark-haired doppelganger could only understand fragments of what the speaker was saying. He felt a pressure on his hand, tender skin holding onto his before something tickled his forehead. Feather-light. What was it? Who was it? A few moments passed and he heard nothing, the novelist only assumed that the voice’s owner had left. He didn’t want to be alone right now though, not with the darkness.

It had become unbearable.

Since... Since when did…? How...? Oh. Right. Savitar... Am I dead? Is this where spirits wait for their turn to pass into their designated afterlife? Have I really...? Events from earlier resurfaced to his mind, his senses coming together. Right, had to protect Iris. For Barry – it was my fault Savitar had gotten to her. My big mouth. Even if Barry didn't really see me as a helpful friend. At least... At least I proved Savitar wrong, who ironically is a version of Barry. That's hella twisted. He huffed out a breath before venturing back into the calmness of sleep. Maybe a little more rest will help?

***

HR cracked an eye open: this time, harsh filtered light had greeted him. The novelist grunted in pain, adjusting himself slightly to assess where he was. What day was it? What was the time? How long have I been here? A yawn left his lips this time, his throat and mouth as dry as a desert.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up?” HR’s eyes met Cisco’s, who stood with a tablet in hand. “How’s sleeping beauty feeling?”

The Wells doppelganger cleared his throat. “Like I’ve gotten assaulted by an Amtrack bus, and not the good kinds.” HR’s baby blue eyes scanned the room, landing on the flower vase that was set on a table near him. Blue forget-me-knots and pink hydrangeas stood proudly in their vases, nurtured well. HR felt his heart swell, his eyes not daring to leave the delicate petals that accented the med bay in better tones. Cisco handed him a cup of water to which HR downed it immediately.

“Amtrack does trains.”

“Not on my Earth, Francisco.” The author couldn’t help but ask, his eyes lingering on the flowers once more. “Did Tracy bring those?”

Cisco pursed his lips, an odd look present on his face. He wanted to tell HR, but… “No. Um, she didn’t.” Tracy had been visiting, though it had become some sort of a nuisance to all her complaining at this point. She hadn’t even known HR for that long, anyway.

“Oh?” His shoulders dropped subtly in disappointment. “They’re beautiful, I was just wondering and…”

“Let’s just say, a special someone’s been… dropping by and bringing a new flower each day. That’s all you’re getting from me, Aurora.” Cisco reasoned with the Wells doppelganger. The mechanical genius knew, but it wasn’t his place to say. It killed him, but… “I wouldn’t move around too much, if I were you. You’ve got a fractured shoulder and that chest wound. I’ve been told to relay the message that you’re to be on strict bed rest until that shoulder further heals.” HR lowered his gaze to see the cross-body sling. He clenched his slinged hand and unclenched it to bring some feeling into the limb.

“What about my chest?”

“Miraculously, that’s been healing really well since day one.” Cisco kept the talk real, showing the injured doppelganger the schematics and pictures. “You got lucky that it missed your heart by a centimeter.” A stab wound like that should have… I wonder if she knows that I know.

HR blinked at the seriousness in his injury, the looming idea of death from his decision. “How long was I out?”

“A week and a half.”

“What?” HR’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I-”

“HR!” Tracy’s sudden voice pierced the room, stunning Cisco and triggering an ache in HR’s head. The grad scientists shuffled over to him, both forgetting that Cisco was in the room. “HR, my love, how are you? Are you feeling okay? Is there any pain?” He continued checking his friend’s vitals and adjusting dosages to the IV and morphine administered – as per your request. The room was growing ever louder with HR and Tracy. Tracy embraced him, minding his injuries as she continued to fuss over him. It made the Wells writer smile, yet… his heart didn’t swell as much as it used to.

Odd.

Cisco sent you a quick text while the two were preoccupied, but you were already at the Labs. You stopped just outside the entrance, the wall and dimly light hallway obscuring you from who remained in the med bay. They wouldn’t be able to see you from where you stood. A shaky breath left you as you clutched the Freesia flower in hand. Your heart shriveled in your chest as you backtracked. Hearing his voice is enough. After all, with Tracy around you couldn’t be near him – those dirty and hateful looks she’d send you. Best to keep my distance, I guess. You couldn’t help but sneak a peek at him though, the man who had unknowingly captured your heart and would never reciprocate your love. You pushed down the lump in your throat. Hastily, you sent Cisco a text to check on the flowers. Silently, you trailed away from the med bay and to the upper levels of STAR Labs. I wonder if he liked the flowers. Standing at such altitude with the wind blowing lightly had calmed you a bit. Looking down at the flower, you gripped it tightly before you began to pick off the petals one by one. The little moments you had with the goofy novelist surfaced to the forefront of your mind with each petal you held. Your little curious escapades. The little talks. The nights you’d visit him when Tracy wasn’t around.

“He loves me, he loves me not,” You murmured, a stray tear trickled down your cheek. The freesia symbolizes unconditional love and honor. “He loves me, he loves me not,” Your voice cracked as more tears fell. “He loves me, he loves me not…”

***

A frown presented itself on HR’s lips as he tilted his head to crack his neck. The crack relieved him tremendously. It didn’t make sense. The novelist mused to himself, setting aside the current chapter draft he was working on. The voice I heard was… different. It didn’t sound like Tracy’s. HR couldn’t get that voice out of his mind – the tenderness that was laced in the tone of that voice. Nothing like the slight shrill in Tracy’s. He eyed the flowers once more that day, their presence was prominent. If Tracy hadn’t brought those, then who had?

The team had helped situate HR in his room in order to vacate the med bay should another imminent event occur. He had overheard Cisco tell Wally that you were preoccupied with something in Star City – a bit of disappointment twinged inside him. HR had taken up doing bits of physical therapy for the rest of his body without moving his shoulder as much. His shoulder and arm remained in a crossbody sling. The flowers sat on his bedside counter; he tended to them as best as he could with the limited movement he had. Tracy protested that they don’t need to be around, but the novelist was vehement on keeping the plants. HR won’t deny the fact that he had gotten annoyed several times with her around when he needed thinking space for his writing. He couldn’t write with noise and nonsensical chatter, especially if it’s mainly coming from someone who doesn’t want to really listen to his input. She’d go on and on about her scientific research and such, but wouldn’t hear a word from HR regarding his writing. The longer the novelist was confined to his room for rest, the more he had time to think – to contemplate. Yes, he liked Tracy, but… it just seemed that she didn’t really see HR. She does all the talking; she doesn’t really ask about how I feel about things or ask me about my life, even things about Earth-19… It’s like she doesn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face. It’s not even my face that Tracy sees, just Randolph’s. Was I too quick to jump at the first person who showed interest in me? Had I rushed into ‘forever’ with her?

He tabled those thoughts for now. HR reached for his laptop; one hand opened it to start it up. While the device loaded, he grabbed his black-clear glasses and set them on his face. If anyone saw him as such, they wouldn’t be able to tell the physical difference between him and his handsome, yet grumpy doppelganger. Except for the eyebrow scar, but that was obscured by the glasses. HR did a couple of searches with a concentrated look. Surely, it was the person with that… angel-like voice.

“Hydrangeas,” HR whispered as his eyes skimmed over the text that had popped up. “The hydrangea represents gratitude, grace and beauty. It also radiates abundance because of the lavish number of flowers and the generous round shape. Its colors symbolize love, harmony and peace.” The Wells doppelganger scrolled further. “Pink hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions.” Interesting. HR continued his research, glancing at the other flower type that resting in the vase. “Forget-me-nots symbolize true love and respect. When you give someone these tiny blooms, it represents a promise that you will always remember them and will keep them in your thoughts. They are also considered a symbol of fidelity and faithfulness.” A particular link caught his eye, he clicked on it. The novelist read to himself the text once more, “Based on Christian lore, the story about forget-me-nots is that God was walking in the Garden of Eden. He saw a blue flower and asked it its name. The flower was a shy flower and whispered that he had forgotten his name. God renamed the flower as forget-me-not saying that He will not forget the flower.”

HR swallowed thickly; contrary to popular belief around here, he wasn’t stupid. Sure, he wasn’t a science-based genius, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t an expert on other aspects of life and had basic common sense. The author was emotionally intelligent and intact with the world around him. These flowers weren’t picked out on accident. But who would do that? Who doesn’t want me to forget about them? The dark-haired man shook his head slightly as he shut his laptop. A surge of sadness welled inside him at the notion of ‘being forgotten’. Who had he done that to? He’d get to the bottom of this mystery in due time. Right now, I need to jog my memory on what I was writing. A hand found a rough draft paper, his eyes scanned over the words he had typed out. His brows creased as the written notes he’d made on the paper as well. (Y/N) … I had… What had I been writing about again? The novelist read each line, each note he had made no drafts and scratch paper.

The hairs at the back of his neck stood up as realization hit him the more he had read on. The drafts, the notes, all of it – the little novel he had been writing regarding his adventures. But this particular part of his story – the ‘angel’ in his story. The one who stuck by him since coming here, the one who had given him a safe space… And the one he hadn’t seen since waking up. How could he forget? HR lowered the paper; his eyes became half-lidded as guilt shot through him. Before Barry had gone to the future and gotten hints of Tracy with her Speed Bazooka, HR had been working on his book. A book that he had pushed off to stick with Tracy and help in any way that he can to make the speed weapon possible. He had gotten distracted from doing the things he loves. A few conjectures arose in his mind as he slipped his glasses off, one arm end pressed to his lips. His heart hammered into his chest; you were among the last faces he had seen before passing out that night.

The irony. How could I forget that (Y/N) was the ‘angel’ in my story?

***

“Look at you, up and at ‘em.” Cisco strolled into the lounge with a cheeky grin. The mechanical genius didn’t take HR for granted anymore, not with the stunt he pulled. No, Cisco willingly checked up on him – not just for you, but for himself. HR had truly become one of his close friends in the end, especially with all the advice about Gypsy. “What are you cooking up this time?”

“Just an omelet with a side of bacon and toast, Francisco,” HR turned to the mechanical engineer who continued to tinker away at the schematics to get Barry out of the Speedforce. He offered Cisco some with a gesture only for the scientist to politely decline. “I haven’t seen (Y/N) anywhere. Um, is she also…?”

“Oh, you know how she’s like. Either up in the vents or chilling in her birds’ nest on the roof. And on that note, our resident hummingbird has become quite the firecracker.”

HR raised an eyebrow at his friend. “How so?”

“She punched Savitar square in the face then decked him multiple times over when Barry brought him in. Harry had to be the one to pull her away – well, more like carry her away kicking and screaming bloody murder at him. It sounded badass; wish I had been there to see it.”

The Wells doppelganger gritted his teeth at the mental image of Harry carrying you – touching you. The thought ruffled his feathers for some reason. HR expertly masked his irritation, turning the stove off and assembling the food on his plate. “Why?”

“Because he hurt you, HR.”

“…”

“He almost killed you.” And that was unforgivable, especially to her. “We almost lost you. She almost lost you.”

A rough sigh escaped HR as Cisco had sent him a knowing look before exiting the STAR Labs lounge. The Earth-19 man chewed on the inside of his cheek. Only a fool would misunderstand Cisco’s subtle intentions. HR knew what he had to do – he’d been reflecting on his time here, thinking about the people around him, about the relationships he’s formed. The novelist glanced outside – the sun shined, the birds chirped, and the trees rustled with the wind.

And the world continues to move on.

***

“When are you going to tell him?”

“…” You tensed at the abrupt voice. You snapped your head up, eyes darting to find Cisco approaching you with pocketed hands in his gray-black jacket. He wore a Bulbasaur shirt. The clouds surged by with the intensity of the breeze. Your hair blew over your shoulders slightly. Tilting your head, you turned back to watch the city. Days had passed and you refused to see HR, content on what Cisco had been telling you. He’d been recovering tremendously well, but… you didn’t really want to hear about what he and Tracy were up to. It wounded you. “Tell who, what?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about, Ms. I’m-going-to-put-my-feelings-in-a-box.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ohohohoho, no. I am tired of the love eyes, the lingering gazes, the pining. It ends.” Your best friend came to sit down next to you with that frustrated look on his face. “I know you have powers.” Your heart stopped in your chest at his accusation. “I know you used your powers to heal HR.” You bit down on your lip, not wanting to validate his statement. Cisco saw “I analyzed the wounds, looked at his healing at a microscopic level. I’m not Caitlin, but even I can pick up a few things. His cells were excelled to heal, but there were residues of your genetic markers at the wound point. You stitched his wounds together, cell-by-cell. My point is: why didn’t you say anything? Your powers are a-”

“-A curse.”

“What?”

“They’re a curse.” You threw a hard look at Cisco, making sure your hands wouldn’t touch him. “I can’t be playing God, Cisco. And… it’s unpredictable, volatile. I could either heal the life in my hands or take it away. I could rip someone ‘cell-by-cell’, Cisco. There’s no ‘in between’, not this time. He got lucky with my powers. He got lucky I didn’t make things 100% irreversible.”

“But why didn’t you say anything?” Cisco eyed the gloves you wore; it wasn’t the season for leather gloves.

“Because I didn’t want to give anyone false hope.”

“You don’t want to give yourself false hope, you mean.”

“…I can’t even heal a plant, Cisco. No matter how hard I tried, it wilted further. It’s a curse.”

“That’s not guaranteed every time, you know. It takes practice – discipline to get your powers to work with you instead of for you.” He nudged your shoulder with his, turning his gaze to the flock of birds drifting through the wind. “You know, he broke up with Tracy.”

“Ok?”

“Happened a week ago. She didn’t take it well and let me tell you. Tracy Brand was livid – the rage and yelling were off the charts. I think she has Harry beat. I knew it wasn’t going to last anyway, it was too superficial to begin with.”

“Uh huh.” You tried to sound uninterested, but deep down you were relieved. You heard a little ring in your ear. You wondered…

“She’s gone, won’t be coming here anymore.

“Ok.”

“So, go make your move.”

You turned abruptly to face him. “Cisco, have you thought that maybe HR doesn’t want to dive into a relationship right away? That… maybe he needs space to focus on himself?” All were things you had contemplated for yourself before.

“And what better way to do that than with a new roommate.”

“Excuse me?”

“Surprise, you’re getting a temporary roommate while we fully fix up things around the labs. I volunteered you since you have the space and the patience to deal with HR.” Your blood froze in your veins.

“Francisco Ramon, I am going to-”

“-Thank me, you’re going to thank me.” He had already breached away before you had the chance to strangle him. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the idea of HR living with you, even if it was a temporary living arrangement. You scolded your heart for beating loudly in your chest. One hand gripped tightly to your other. An audible sigh escaped you as your mind played with the idea.

Shit, what am I going to do?

***Day 1***

Cisco blew out an exhausted breath, setting down another box on top of a box in the guest room. You and the mechanical genius had been breaching back and forth with HR’s things as said novelist was crippled. His arm would take about another four weeks to heal. About 20 percent of shoulder fractures are displaced and may require some type of manipulation to restore normal anatomy. Occasionally the rotator cuff muscles are injured or torn at the same time as the fracture. Fortunately for HR, his rotator cuff muscles weren’t as damaged. This can further complicate the treatment. Therefore, in that time, HR would just be handling the lighter stuff, bless his heart. The novelist entered the room with his black backpack slung over his functioning shoulder – it was the last thing that he could carry.

“I think there’s one more box left,” HR pointed with his thumb towards his back direction, the breach closing behind him.

“I’ll go get it, not a problem. Why don’t you two get started on unpacking, huh?” HR shrugged with one shoulder and stepped away to set his bag down by the bed. Cisco threw a cheeky look your way when HR had his back turned, his eyebrows wiggling. ‘Have fun love birds,’ the scientist had mouthed at you. You flicked him off with a deadpanned look. Instantly you dropped it when the Wells doppelganger turned as Cisco snickered before he breached away. He gave you a confused look, but you waved it off.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For allowing me to stay obviously. And for all the help since I’m, well, a bit tangled up at the moment.”

He was referring to the cross-body sling that clung onto him like a spider. HR rubbed the back of his neck, and you didn’t miss the way his bicep flexed at the motion in that gray short-sleeve shirt. Calm the fuck down, it’s just a toned muscle. You’ve seen things like that before. The puppy-like smile HR sent you had your cheeks warming up. The gentle smile that made your heart melt all over again. You cleared your throat as you reached for a box. “It’s no big deal, HR.” Undoing the tape seal with scissors, you opened the box- and the first thing you see are a pair of handcuffs accompanied by a silky black blindfold.

“What’s in the box?”

A little noise left you as you shut the flaps of the box, trying to seal it again. The flaps remained downward in the box. “Nope, nothing. Just some clothes here. I’m going to get that one box from the living room.” You had backtracked right into the door, your nose throbbed in response at the collision. “Ow,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing the skin.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine,” your response was quick, but not rude. A deep chuckle made its way to your ears as you scrambled out the room, your heart hammering in your chest. Your thoughts scolded you for being so awkward and flustered around him. Be cool, just chill out… The man you’re hopelessly in love with is just living with you temporarily, it’s not like anything will amount from this. You picked up the last box in the living room, hoping that just clothes would be in here and not anymore kink toys. I mean… I have toys, too. AW SHIT, I HAVE TO HIDE THEM!

HR’s eyes never left you as you made your panicked exit. He let out a little breath before shuffling over to the box you had been attending to. Immediately, he face-palmed hard when he had opened it with one hand. His face felt impossibly hot at what you had seen. She must think I’m an idiot or something. His mind thought back to when you helped him shop for some new clothes then it had gotten ruined from a meta. His hand fell away from his face, the image of your kind grin imprinted in his mind. I am an idiot, though. A fool.

Once Cisco returned, you three continued unpacking HR’s things for the time he’d spend here. The labs were still in ‘piss-poor’ shape according to Cisco and that he’ll need to consult with Harry and Wally regarding repairs.

“HR, how are you showering?”

“Um, like a normal person?” A dumbfounded look crossed HR’s features as he set the plate of sandwiches down. The novelist had knitted his eyebrows at Cisco. He had taken up to experimenting in the kitchen when he wasn’t writing. The tea and coffee were still brewing in your kitchen.

“No, I mean with how your shoulder is injured,” Cisco snuck an evil look at you, you returned it with a glare, “must be hard handling it alone.” You knew exactly where this dumbass wanted to take this conversation, so you stayed silent as to not get caught in the crossfire.

HR thought to himself for a moment. “Just a bit, but I’ve gotten used to the mild discomforts and pain. I can mostly reach everything thanks to my long limbs. But I think the nice thing is that it’s an internal issue, not an external one. An external injury or wound would require me to really have help with showering that way the area doesn’t get infected or irritated with the contents of soaps.” A laugh fell from his lips, but his mind wondered what his friend was playing at while you were around.

“I’m just saying, if you ever need a hand well,” Cisco trailed off with a smirk, chomping on his third sandwich.

Oh, I see. Devious, but a futile effort. “I’ll make sure you’re the first one I ask for help,” HR teased with a smirk of his own for Cisco to drop his in disgust. A cough escaped you, which had HR’s eyes land on you. Your eyes met for a moment before you deviated your gaze. HR felt hypnotized for a moment. Hm… The engineer quickly recovered from HR’s snide remark.

“Alright kids, I’ll be going now. The labs require some diligent work that I, a capable and distinguished engineer, could only do.”

“Yet, we still have the occasional security issues,” You sipped your tea once the snarky comment was out. HR stifled a chuckle, but you heard it. The corners of your mouth lifted slightly at the notion.

“Hey, that’s not fair. They always come up with something new to invade our space by.” Cisco pointed a finger at you, mocking a hurtful expression on his face. It dropped into a sneaky smile. “Make good choices and always use protection, you two!” He breached away before you could throw your cup at him.

***Multiple Days Pass***

Through his time here, you noticed HR fueled to write what’s on his mind in the guest room. You could only assume that he continued his adventure story. Sometimes he would venture out for some coffee or take a walk to give his creativity a break. Keeping that in mind, you gave HR the space he needed as well as all noises to a minimum. You knew he liked the quiet atmosphere to pour his heart and soul into words as he did research for a scene. Pulling your jacket on, you compiled a list of groceries before you stepped out of your apartment. Locking the door, you headed out to the store picking up a few necessities as well as some snacks for HR. Like Harry, the novelist can easily lose himself in his task – which meant that he tended to forget about eating and such. You found a bag of Jitters coffee beans, adding it to your cart of items. Buying some snacks and fruit, you’d leave a note in the kitchen of the snacks when he emerged from his writing cave.

On the way back, you stopped by at Iris’ studio to check up on her. A few groceries for her as well were in hand. Cecile and you did your best to visit Iris. But you can’t deny that you blamed her to a certain extent. Had she spoken up once she had left Savitar’s place disguised as HR, HR wouldn’t have been hurt that night on Infantino Street. Surely, she could have contacted her father or Cisco or something. The transition could have been smoother. HR wouldn’t have been… The journalist was faring; she pushed through the pain and as Barry had told her ‘to keep living’. So, Iris did. She hadn’t been herself since Barry went into the Speedforce – she pushed too much, the smile wouldn’t reach her eyes sometimes. You sympathized; she lost the love of her life. But you almost had too.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, just… taking it one day at a time.” You nodded at her response, a small smile on your face. “How are things with you and HR? I heard of the temporary living conditions.”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m in my bubble and he’s in his doing his writing.”

“Right. Nothing going on whatsoever?”

“Iris.”

Iris set her cup of hot chocolate down and raised both hands in mock defeat. “We all saw it. We all see it.”

“See what?”

“How smitten you are for him.”

“I’m not-”

“-Don’t say you’re not. If you weren’t you, Harry wouldn’t have to pry you off Savitar before you clawed his eyes out.”

“…” You just looked into your tea, the honey that settled at the bottom. Iris placed a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t look at her.

“The heart will want what it wants, (Y/N). Pushing your feelings into a box and denying it out loud won’t change things.”

“I know.”

And my heart wants him, over and over again. Even if he can’t see me.

***

HR tapped his pencil against the desk at a steady pace. His mind wouldn’t focus on the words in front of him, on the scene he wanted to set. Instead, it kept drifting further from it. Further towards you: your eyes, your smile, the kindness that you held; the serenity that your existence held as the world continued to turn and chaos had unfolded at each turn. HR didn’t see much of you while he was here, the novelist missed your company. You were here, but you weren’t really here. You were either in your room or at the balcony with a book or on the couch with your Switch. He didn’t want to bother you, but… sometimes HR just wanted to sit beside you and pull you close to talk. To hold you in his arms and ask you about your day, to understand what you were thinking. HR cracked his back in a stretch from where he sat on his bed, being mindful of his injured shoulder. It didn’t hurt as it had originally done a few weeks back. The Wells doppelganger noticed that you were careful to avoid touching him or him touching you. Not even a hug that you used to graciously give him. You were especially guarded with your hands. A rough sigh left him as he threw his pencil down. The frustration was setting in, he was getting nowhere. You consumed his thoughts. HR wondered if you were revolted by him but doesn’t verbalize his thoughts to you. He didn’t think you’d give him your truthful answer. Maybe she is revolted by me. She did find the cuffs and the blindfold… No, she knew about the cuff stage thing well before that.

The sound of the front door greeted his ears followed by the soft tune of music. A frown made its way onto his face. Might as well take a break. HR stretched once more when he fully stood up, a little noise of relief left his lips. He cracked his back once more before smelling himself. For safe measure, the novelist sprayed a bit of cologne on himself and turned off the candle he had on. He mentally noted to take a shower after dinner since his last was yesterday. He liked the feeling of being clean, to be honest. HR carded a hand through his hair. I need a haircut soon, too. Yeesh, I feel like I’m letting myself go. Once I’m all healed it’s back to proper cuts and the labs’ recreation room. He wanted to go back to lifting weights and doing yoga for body stability purposes – especially now because of his shoulder. HR rested a hand on his chest, the wound had healed completely, but a scar remained. Upon entering the kitchen, he saw the groceries on the table and heard you whisper along with the lyrics. The music was set to a low level that your whispers were audible enough. He watched you sway a bit with the tune.

So please don't break my heart

Don't tear me apart

I know how it starts

Trust me I've been broken before

Don't break me again

I am delicate

Please don't break my heart

Trust me I've been broken before

The guitar tune pulled at his heart, feeling the raw emotion behind the lyrics. He eyed you for a moment. HR cleared his throat to make his presence known, he knew you didn’t like to be snuck up on. However, a little gasp left you from where you were. “You went out shopping?”

You looked up from where you crouched to put away the cereal. “Uh yeah, we were running low on some stuff.” You shut the cabinet and went to the other items you had bought. The music continued to delicately play.

“Need any help?”

“Um, sure. Uh, just set these into the cabinet on the left.” Normal, be normal. He’s not going to eat you or anything. Distance is good. Distance keeps you safe. You didn’t meet his eyes, the eyes that’d pull you in and never let you out – your heart shook with him here and the song that played. You were hoping HR wouldn’t come out while you prepped dinner to have a sort of peace of mind. The next song played before you could stop it-

My last made me feel like I would never try again

But when I saw you, I felt something I never felt

Come closer, I'll give you all my love

If you treat me right, baby, I'll give you everything

“I like this song,” HR started as he was finishing up with putting his side of the groceries away. Another guitar-like song that brought out the soft feelings of love and rejection. HR mused to himself if fate had planned this out. If this was some sort of sign or a cruel joke… You had stopped yourself from clicking the button to skip the song at his comment. You don’t know what possessed you to let him indulge in another song that you’ve cried to late at night. “Hey, I can cook dinner tonight. I have something I’ve been wanting to try. I’m not that crippled so I can manage with a few cookware.” HR chuckled to himself, a goofy grin on his face. Your heart leapt in your chest; his grin caused a small smile to pull at your lips. “You can wash up first?”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes meeting his icy blues. You felt your cheeks warm up slightly as the nerves crawled up your spine. “Oh, ok. Cool, yeah. Can’t wait to see what you cook up.” You nodded, ducking your head away and shuffling out of the kitchen with that shy smile on your face. You missed the longing look he had sent you as you fastened your steps to head to your room.

God I love that smile. What goes on in that little head of yours? We used to be so close… before Tracy came into the picture. HR pulled out the spices and the chicken breast. He shook his head and proceeded to prep the food with his one useful hand. I need to consult Francisco.

***

“We need to talk,” HR’s voice broke the silence in the side lab of the Cortex. He had breached to the labs using the Breach Extrapolator after he had showered and such. His damp hair was pushed back in HR’s normal style.

“About what?” Cisco raised a concerned eyebrow at the writer, stopping what he had been doing.

“(Y/N).”

A nervous laugh left Cisco as he went back to attempting to make the necessary modifications to the Speed Bazooka. Tracy was reluctant to help the mechanical engineer after the breakup. “What about (Y/N)?” Cisco put down his screwdriver. “Did you do something weird to her?”

“What? No! I- we used to be closer. We always talked, we’d hang out after a long day here at the labs.”

“Uh huh.”

“And, maybe it’s just me, but things have changed.”

“How so?” Cisco was wondering what conclusion HR was leading himself to.

“Things changed when Tracy came into the picture.”

Cisco made a little ‘o’ with his mouth with a little nod before closing it. He pushed a rough sigh past his lips, he was getting really tired of this puppy love game. “Why do you think that?”

“Francisco, she flinches when I get close – almost when I touch her… Does she hate me?”

“I think you and I know the answer to that one. But I think the real question should be: Why do you care so much? Why does it bother you? Do you love her, HR?”

The novelist tensed a bit. “…” HR pursed his lips as Cisco walked around the table that the speed weapon was mounted on. Blueprints were scattered on one table while the glass board held variables and equations he could not decipher. “What?”

“I said what I said,” the mechanical genius smoothly responded. One look at HR and Cisco knew that he was baffled by his forward words. But they needed to be said. “Now run along and use that head of yours to think about what your heart wants. Barry isn’t going to get himself out of the Speedforce.”

***

Cisco’s words mulled through HR’s mind as he breached back to your apartment’s living room. Only the lamp light on the side table was on. HR’s eyes landed on you, who laid on the couch with the book you had been reading on the back ledge of the couch. The novelist took off his shoes and set down his bag. He had detoured to the bookstore, looking for the next installment of your current book. The Wells doppelganger had assumed you didn’t buy it yet as it was vacant from your bookshelf. The gentle giant stepped silently closer to you; the dim light cast over you like a glow. There were slight bags under your eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Spotting a large and fluffy blanket near, HR grabs it and lays it on top of you. He remembered you mentioned to him prior that you easily get cold, especially at night. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, HR contemplated something before his body moved impulsively. The novelist placed a gentle kiss on your forehead; his lips lingered for a few more seconds. Pulling back, HR watched your chest rise and fall. He turned the light off and stumbled over to his room with his phone light guiding him. He knew what he was going to write. Cisco’s question pestered him enough though.

Do you love her, HR?

HR took one look out his door before shutting it, his heart squeezed tightly in his chest as he whispered, “Goodnight, my angel.” Only the shadows that lingered were a witness to the fondness laced in those simple words.

***

You woke up with a start, you hand instantly smacking right into your chest. Heavy breaths left you as your nerves were in overdrive. Cold sweat beaded your skin as you gasp for air. It was another night terror – the same one for a few weeks now; a new way in which you caused HR’s death. Swallowing thickly, you screw your eyes tightly shut and whisper the mantra that calmed you down. After a few minutes, you started to regain control of your breathing – the thoughts that ravaged your mind finally ceased like the tides subsiding after a tsunami. You blinked languidly, hating nights like these. They weren’t rare, but they weren’t an uncommon occurrence. Deciding that you needed to step out for some air, you did so with the intent of getting a glass of water from the kitchen. Your fingers found the lights for the dimmers in your room, setting it to its lowest setting for you to see yourself out.

Cracking the door open, you were instantly met with the scene of HR passed out on the couch again. He’s been doing that for around two weeks now, the couch his new base of operations. His mouth was slightly open as little snores escaped him. A lovestruck smile crossed your features at the sight. Papers were littered around him, on the ground, and on the tables. Must be the manuscript he’s working on for his final draft. I hope I can read it at some point. Coming back from the kitchen with the water in hand you couldn’t help but stop to admire the sight. You noticed the glasses still perched on his face. Moving as silent as a ninja, you inched closer to pull off the glasses from his face. They’ll break if he keeps them on while he sleeps. Then he won’t see for shit when reading things. You nibbled on your bottom lip as your eyes drifted to the papers. One peek won’t hurt anyone. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Seating yourself on the ground, you leaned your back against the foundation of the couch. You were opposite to where HR’s upper body was. If there were any telltale signs of him waking, you’d hightail out before he could fully wake up and process what you were doing. Picking up a small stack, you started sifting through them. Your mind became engrossed with the words – the beginnings of the story he had spun about his adventures as to how he came to Earth-1. Then… mentions of an angel eluded you. It couldn’t be Tracy, could it? I know they broke up, but… on the other hand, it doesn’t mean that he can’t say that she was his angel at the time. Like a character development thing leading to their break up?? Well fuck, I don’t even think he’d mention such a personal thing in his book. I know I wouldn’t… would I? I don’t know. A little smile danced at your lips while you read on about the synonymous things regarding Team Flash that you failed to notice HR rouse from sleep.

“Do you like it?” Lethargy intertwined his words. A stunned noise left you as you clutched the papers. You turned to see HR rubbing his eyes before gazing at you.

I could get lost in those eyes if I stared too long.

“Uh, yeah, its- it’s really good,” you stuttered, setting the papers down in your lap. Embarrassment of getting caught gripped you. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind you taking a peek. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of in it.” HR shifted his lithe body to sit next to you on the ground.

“Oh.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s not that important, I’ll be ok.”

“If you say so,” HR’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I’m here if you want to talk.” You nodded at him, whispering a little thank you. HR ran a hand over his knee, he took a glimpse at you who stared at the papers. He noticed what chapter you hand been reading – the angel was making an appearance in the story. The hair at the back of his neck stood while you thumbed the words on the paper back in forth, just lost in your mind. Your hair was messy from sleep, the bags under your eyes were still there. It killed him how you wouldn’t confide in him anymore. But he didn’t push you. You would open up to him if you wanted to or not, even if he wanted you to do so as so his mind can be at ease with knowing what’s going on with you. Cisco’s question sprang up in his mind once more before he licked his lips, his eyes watching you. “I do.”

You gave HR a strange look. I do, what?

“Tracy wasn’t her.” Realization struck HR the more you whispered with him.

“Huh??”

“I heard this voice before I woke up.” The novelist fully turned to you with intense eyes, the enlightenment in them – the fire that burned brightly. “The tenderness in it could rival any tasteful delight in the multiverse.”

“A voice?”

“Mm, it made me think that only a heavenly deity would have such a voice.” You remained silent as he spoke. “I never got to hear that voice since my coma… until now?”

You tensed at what he was insinuating. “Now?”

“How could I forget?”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“How could I forget about you?” The baritone huskiness in his voice made you melt with the way he said those words. You swallowed, trying to calm the butterflies that raged in the pit of your stomach. “The flowers that were left – beautiful, delicate, yet meaningful. You left those after visiting me.”

“…”

She didn’t deny it. “But you never visited when I was awake because of Tracy.”

“She hates me.”

“And I was too blind to see that until I broke up with her, she threw quite a fit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you must have loved her so much that it would be hard to let go.” She was your angel, after all.

“She didn’t even know me. Truly know me.”

“… Did she hurt you?”

“Slightly, but the bruise is gone.” You and he were silent for a moment. Only the sound of a distant car horn was heard from the streets. “You didn’t deny it.”

“Deny what?”

“The flowers, the visit…” HR licked his lips as a rough breath left him. His nerves were climbing, but he needed to do this. “Cisco told me what you did to Savitar when you saw him. How angry you were that Harry had to pry you off him – I was so angry.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know then… but I know now.”

“And?”

“Tracy was never the one written in my story – she didn’t care. She didn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face obsessed with coffee. You did.” HR tucked your hair behind your ear, carefully gauging your reaction. He saw how you tried not to flinch away from him. “Do you hate me?” He asked as he retracted a hand from you, happy that he was at least getting through to you.

“Never could I feel such a way towards you.” You hesitated for a moment before testing the waters. You started to explain, “I- the night you were stabbed by Savitar I… I just broke. I pushed Tracy away, I had Barry rush you back to the labs. You were dying, unconscious on the gurney and… I got to work trying to resuscitate you. I had Cisco take care of Tracy while I worked, I needed space to think clearly, but I couldn’t. When- when the others were preoccupied with Iris’ appearance, I used these powers.” It was now or never. “I was desperate. Your life was hanging by a thread- I didn’t think it was going to work, but nothing else was working. You were bleeding so much. But I had to try. I…” Your glassy eyes locked back on his, your hands pulled close to your body. HR understood now why you never tried touching him. Why you are avoiding getting too close. “Cisco found out, he confronted me. But these powers, life isn’t guaranteed. They’re volatile, unprecedented – regardless of how I feel in the moment the balance can tip between giving a life and taking one.” There was a tightness in your chest as your voice cracked, “I’m cursed, I could hurt you.” I’m dangerous.

“I don’t think you will.”

“You don’t know that!”

“But I do,” HR reached a hand out to hold yours. Tension filled your heart as panic started to settle. “You wouldn’t let yourself hurt me. It would pain you too much.” HR squeezed your slightly shaky hand, his other hand still bound by the cross-sling. “My life is in your hands.”

“How can you trust me so much?”

“Because love cannot be built without a foundation of trust.” He placed a sweet kiss on the knuckles of your hand. “And understanding.” He took the other and kissed it, baby blue eyes shifted back to yours with such intense emotion. The adoration that filled the author to the brim for you. Just for you. Only you. The one who saw him for everything and anything that he is. His safe space – the one other thing he wanted to be for you as well. He wanted to eliminate any fears that resided in your heart, the pain and doubt that remained.

“Do you hate me?”

HR cupped your cheek tenderly as he leaned close, your heart wanted to stop as blood rushed to your cheeks and ears. Your half-lidded eyes shut slowly as his lips skimmed over your own. “Never in my life, angel,” the novelist whispered as he captured your lips in a tender and sentimental kiss.

Never in my life could I hate the one who my heart has yearned for.

#harrison wells x reader #harrison wells #hr wells x reader #hr wells #hr wells imagine #the flash cw #the flash #harrison wells imagines #earth 19 harrison wells #cw #cisco ramon #tracy brand #iris west #Iris West-Allen

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angellbarnes · 3 years

Text

Forgotten Love - part six: no longer one of them

chapter summary: the truth will set you free, if it doesn't kill you first. The team interrogates you and your past.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

words: 2.3k

warnings: language, mentions of torture, needles

A/N: sorry it's been a while but finally got around to finishing this chapter. Pls like, comment and reblog as always! :)🤍

series masterlist

You look around the blank, boxy room. Then down at your hands, where your wrists are chained to a table. Then down at your ankles, where they are chained to the chair you’re sitting on. It’s been at least thirty minutes since you were left in here by yourself, struggling in your restraints. Your breathing becomes rugged and you can’t hold down the panic rising within, no matter how hard you try. Even closing your eyes, all you see are them. In a sudden rush of emotion you manage to yank yourself free from each chain and stand, pushing the chair from behind you and sending flying back, hitting the wall and crashing to the floor. You look up to the wall opposite, noticing your disheveled reflection in the mirror, fists balled up tight. A one-way mirror, no doubt.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You repeat to yourself. Your hands fly to your hair, raking through it and grabbing while your chest heaves and your head spins. Steadying yourself with the table for a moment to calm yourself as best you can. You tread carefully towards the door but stop in your tracks, physically frozen in place as you try and place how many footsteps are heading towards you now.

There are seven of them. Three, you notice, stay at the door whilst the others carry on, presumably to whatever room is behind that mirror.

The door opens.

“What in the-” Fury begins, seeing you standing before him and noticing the mess you’d left. “Let me see your hands.” He brings up a gun that seems to glare straight at you, as if to say there’s no getting out of this. So, you show your hands.

Tony and Nat are behind him and Natasha walks to the chair that is on its side, picks it up and sets it back down at the table, then motions stoically for you to sit back down.

“Take a seat. We’re gonna be here for a while. And before you try anything stupid, don’t.” Fury states. You sit back down and suddenly notice the dryness of your mouth and throat.

The three of them now stand before you, looming over like the shadows of your past.

“There’s a lot to unpack here, so I suggest we start with whatever the hell just happened upstairs.” Tony begins. His face is forbidding, as are the others, and his arms are crossed.

You remain silent.

“This is the part where you start talking.” Your gaze shifts to meet a single, harsh eye. God knows he only needs one to get the job done.

“I-”

“What Barnes said. Was it true? Did you help torture him as the Winter Soldier?” Natasha’s voice is demanding, needing.

“No.” You say, finally mustering up a word. “Well, yes. No and yes.”

“What do you mean no and yes?” Fury leans forward on the table.

“Not exactly.”

“Cut the crap. Did you, at any point, help HYDRA in torturing Bucky?”

Silence. Then,

“Yes.” It came out as a broken whisper.

Behind the glass, Bucky takes in a sharp breath. Deep down he knew it was true, but that didn’t stop him from wanting it not to be.

Someone begins walking towards the door from the opposite room. Steve enters and switches out with Tony. Steve looks more disappointed than anything, which makes your heart ache more.

“Why? Why were you with them?”

“Steve-”

“Just answer the question.” Steve closes his eyes in exasperation, letting his head fall forward. He can barely look at you.

“I was alone, back when I joined.” You begin. “At the time I was sheltering in an abandoned warehouse that was half blown to pieces. They found me. I was vulnerable and they knew it. So they took me in, fed me, gave me a roof over my head, a proper one. I thought they were good people, at first.” You’re looking down at your lap as you speak, not wanting to risk looking anyone in the eye.

“And how do we know this isn’t some bullshit story you’ve made up to get us to sympathise with you?” Nat chimes in, brows knit together by the thread of betrayal.

“For all we know you could still be one of them. Feeding everything back to them since you got here. Is that what you’ve been doing? Gaining our trust in order to have inside information? This whole goddamn time.” Steve is angry. More than you’ve seen him before. But it’s not the kind of anger that him and Tony might share when the other gets on their nerves, no. This anger is the one that comes from deep within you, that only shows when you’ve been stabbed deep enough in the back for it to come seeping out all crimson red.

“No, it’s not like that. I’m done with HYDRA, I promise.”

“Well that promise doesn’t mean much to us.” Fury comments.

“I know. But it’s all I have.”

Fury holds his fingers up to his ear. “Hill, bring it in.” A moment after Fury’s request she is heading round and into the room. She passes him a folded piece of paper.

“This,” he begins to unfold it. “was surprisingly easy to find. Inside a book? Really?” He leans onto the table and slides the paper forwards. You are now face to face with yourself; the file page you'd retrieved from the first mission. You rub your hands together, as if hoping for a genie to appear so you could wish for this to have never happened.

“That’s not me. Well, it is me. But it’s not who I am. The person you’ve come to know since I joined this team is the real me. I’m not that person.” You look back down at the photograph of your deadened self. “Anymore.”

“Care to explain?” Nat asks.

“After a while with HYDRA, I realised that some others from the rooms near me were being taken somewhere else. I didn’t know where, though; they wouldn’t tell us. Eventually I was the only one left, and none of the others had come back yet.” Your throat is dryer than ever. “They took me to a room. A dark one. And they sat me in a chair. Strapped me down. I could hear some screams from neighbouring rooms but they dismissed it, said people were hurt and they were treating them. They were lying, of course, but at the time I was naive enough to believe them. They stuck a needle in my arm and released an acidically blue liquid into my bloodstream. At first it was excruciating. It felt as though someone was searing my veins as it moved from my arm and into my chest, then up my neck and down my torso. Then it was everywhere. My mind was so clouded with pain, until it just… stopped. I felt numb. And after that, HYDRA turned me into their own personal weapon. Because I was their success. I was the one who survived. They had used a different serum on all twelve of us, trying to find one that worked. And it finally did. At first I felt special to have been the one that survived. Proud, even. But soon it turned into something more sinister, and I realised how lucky the others were…”

The silence in the room is deafening. To a point where you have to start shuffling in your seat just to rid it. It’s hard to gage anyone’s emotions at this point. Natasha leaves, silently, without glancing back. Though she doesn’t head towards the others behind the mirror, she walks away in the opposite direction. Your heart hangs heavy in your chest with the thought of having hurt her this much.

“So, you’re telling me, the serum we found on that mission last week hasn’t just been created? They’d already figured it out and used it on you?” Steve’s question is spoken as more of a statement, everyone already knowing the answer.

“Yes.” You whisper.

“And that’s where these powers came from? The serum?”

“Yes.”

“Another supersoldier. ‘Cause we don’t have enough of those.” Fury scoffs. “And why do they always have to come from HYDRA?”

“The serum made you stronger and faster. But it doesn’t explain your extra power. Where did that come from?” Steve interrogates.

“The serum as well.” Your voice is weak and strained by guilt as you speak. “When they were recreating it they also… experimented with it. Once they knew they perfected the original serum they started tampering with additional elements and quantities. It wasn’t until me when one of them worked. The serum they’d created managed to grip on to certain sensory nerves and cells and increased the sensitivity, or… something about exteroreceptors, maybe? I can’t exactly remember the science of it all-”

“So, just like that, we’re supposed to trust you?” Steve cuts you off, his vigilant tone as unnerving as his stare.

“Send Barnes in.” Fury motions to agent Hill, who exits the room, only to return with him: the one person you thought could get you out of this situation.

Bucky keeps his head down, making sure to avoid any eye contact. You desperately want to yell the truth at everyone - the whole truth - but you know that wouldn’t be wise. Especially since they’re already sceptical of everything that’s coming from your deceiving lips. They would never believe that. He would never believe it.

Not until he remembers it all.

“Bucky, do you know if this is the truth?” Hill cautiously asks him.

“No.”

“No, you don’t know, or no, it isn’t the truth?” Fury inquires.

“No, I don’t know.” He states, finally looking up and meeting your gaze. You can see the hurt in his eyes. It’s evident that these newly found memories haven’t treated him well. Especially since he’d started to take a liking to you, which he never let be known. He didn’t know what to make of it when he began to feel a strange, but strong, pull towards you. As if there was some invisible string that was pulling, connecting, the two of you together.

It frayed and snapped as soon as he remembered.

But knowing that he’d felt it in the first place makes his head hurt all the more.

“So, number 12, what is your real name?” Fury looks straight into your eyes, almost burning through your skull with his intensity.

“And don’t even think about lying to us again.” Steve snarls. You hesitate for a moment, drawing heavy breaths.

“My real name- my real name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Let’s put it to the test, shall we?” Fury proposes.

A few moments later, you’re being hooked up to a lie detector by Bruce. He then sits diagonal to you with the polygraph machine in front of him.

“We’re set.” He states.

“Perfect. Let’s get started, shall we?” Tony is now back in the room. A full house.

They don’t hesitate with the questions, getting straight into it, yes or no.

“Before you joined this team, were you a HYDRA agent?” Hill begins with. There is no way for you to escape this, no stopping the rollercoaster from plunging down as you reach the top.

“Yes.”

“An assassin?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still work for them?” Steve’s turn.

“No.”

“Do you still associate yourself with them in any way?”

“No.”

“Are you in contact with them?” Tony asks.

“No.”

“Do you plan on going back to them? Becoming one of them again?” Steve begins again.

“No.” You answer through gritted teeth now.

“Bruce?” Fury chimes in, and all heads turn to him, as he reads the coloured lines on the paper.

“She’s telling the truth so far.” He confirms.

The questions, the interrogating, it continues for several more minutes. Questions like: Are you loyal to this team? Are you really here to make good of your past? Is that life with HYDRA over for good?

Yes, yes, and yes.

“Did you assist in the torture of a Seargent James Barnes whilst you were a part of HYDRA?” Fury reads from a sheet, making sure to leave no stone unturned. A stone that it feels as if he just threw at your stomach. You force your eyes upwards and to Bucky’s, brimming with sadness.

“Yes.” Your answer feels so sour against your tongue. You pry your eyes away and they fall to the floor once more.

“All true.” Bruce confirms once more.

“But-”

“Last question.” Fury walks forward. “How did you manage to get through our system, without us finding any trace of who you really are?” He speaks slowly, deeply, sounding like he has gravel in his throat.

“The old me was classed as dead. I had nothing to my name, not even a life. And HYDRA didn’t make it their first priority to give me one. So, technically I was no one. It wasn’t that hard to create a completely new person. A clean slate, if you will.”

Everyone’s faces are stern, yet utterly mindfucked. No one knows what to think. Fury stands tall and motions his head to the door whilst looking at the others. Everyone exits the room in a disappointed silence.

Bucky is the last to leave. He stands, with his arms crossed and brows furrowed, directly in front of where you sit. The prolonged eye-contact is laced with an unknown, but oddly familiar, tension.

“Bucky, I-” As soon as you begin to speak he follows after the others and shuts and locks the door behind him.

Once again, you’re left with just yourself in the vacant room, besides the company of the chair, table and your infinite, anxiety-ridden thoughts of what the hell is going to happen to you now.

•••

Taglist:

@buckysjuicyplums @901seconds @walkwithfluffyangels @infernal-fire @ohashley101 @mrs-fanfiction-2001 @buckys2thicc @freigeistundanderes

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violets-page · 3 years

Text

Shot down Pt.3

Allie takes over your mind and all Raven can do is watch, feeling helpless.

TW: self-harm (kinda extreme)

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Masterlist

You relied often on the extension of crutches to be mobile. However, things that worked on the ark were not always as great on the ground.

Things like executions, lunch, and crutches, were all much better on the ark. All involved much less suffering. The bumpy terrain and muddy roads made you slip often. Walking made you anxious, afraid that at any moment your legs would give up and you would plummet to the soil. Stuck there until someone become willing to help. Needless to say, you avoided it at all costs. Or at least avoid walking alone.

Today was one of those days where you were forced to. Raven was working on some sort of electric fence around the camp and had begrudgingly left your side after you begged her to. You knew that being cramped inside all day with nothing to work on was worse than hell for her. It had rained earlier and the ground was a cesspool of piss and mud. Falling into it was ill-advised.

You were immensely grateful for the returning strength to your arms and spent many hours working out. Pull-ups were your preference. Without them hobbling along would have been much harder. Raven often commented on them with a smile and a laugh, it always made you blush.

The jagged metal of the crutches sank deep within the soil each time you set them down. It took forever for you to get more than a few feet from your tent, but by that time you had already grown too tired.

You practically fell onto a stray box before hurling the crutches into the mud next to you. You felt your foot twitch. Abby had stated this was a good sign of recovery but to you, it just felt like a painful reminder of your limits.

Your head fell forward as your palms dug into your eyes, holding back the tears like a damn.

The chip in your pocket felt like a hundred pounds as you pulled it out

* * * * * * * *

When Jaha gave you the chip he had seemed so sure of himself, so convinced that these people would be happy. Hell, the man fell from space in a death capsule, was stranded in the desert, almost died, and somehow, and he looked happier than anyone else on this damned planet.

You had run out of other options. The worst that could happen? It turned out to be a piece of plastic and you were left with the unsatisfying taste of dirt.

You held it against your lips toying with the idea, you had run out of time, out of patience, out of hope.

Raven had slowly gotten over her guilt (all thanks to you) and due to your inability to travel more than 30 feet without screaming, you barely saw her. Abby was the only one who checked in regularly and most likely because you spent most of your time in her makeshift waiting room.

Waiting.

You were always waiting. Waiting for your friends to return, waiting for your leg to heal, waiting for love.

Before you could stop yourself you let the chip slide onto your tongue. It dissolved quickly at tasted faintly like salt and dough.

You sat there, waiting for euphoria, waiting for...something.

The kids on the ark sometimes smoked herbs. You thought it would feel like that, the world fading around you as bright colors floated around and everything else just ceased to matter.

Instead, you wiped tears from your eyes all the while cursing Thelonious. You grabbed your crutches, the walk back would take your remaining energy, but better than then be stuck in the oncoming rain.

You felt your annoyance growing with each step as the crutches creaked irritated by your weight on them. You couldn’t take it anymore, the anger came crashing like waves. You slammed the crutches in the mud with a scream. You hated them. They poked you in the arm, they were too tall and made your shoulders ache, they sunk into the ground and were too nosy.

you stood in front of the crutches before raising your leg to stomp on them.

You took your anger out, everything that was wrong with the world you suddenly blamed the crutches for.

“Stupid mother fu-”

Your stomps slowed to a steady pat before halting completely. You were moving, standing. Without the aid of crutches. You took a few more steps, and a few more, and some more. Until your eyes were met with a pristine pair of black heels.

Your eyes trailed up the ivory-toned legs and over the tight red dress of a figure, you'd never seen before. You stared at her in confusion.

“Hello y/n”

* * * * * * * *

Raven hadn’t realized what was happening till it was too late.

You fought against the hold on Clarke and Bellamy in a fit of screams. The forest looked the same to you no matter where you were and your eyes hungrily searched for anything you could recognize

You heard the familiar faint whispers of Raven’s ‘I’m sorry’ before a needle was plunged into your neck and everything went dark.

* * * * * * * *

The drive to the grounder camp felt long and hopeless to Raven. She spent the drive running her hand through your hair hoping part of your unconscious mind would recognize her touch and be soothed by it.

She watched as Clarke and Bellamy hopped out of the truck to reason with the vicious-looking grounder. Her Breath hitched waiting and hoping they would be able to reason with her. She couldn't bear to lose you.

You were all she had.

She felt you shift in her arms, your eyebrows furrowed and she could see your eyes flutter but remain close. For a second she forgot the situation, a gentle smile down at your waking form. Then reality came crashing.

“Hurry she's waking up!”

You felt the fabric of a blindfold as rough hands shoved it down before you could even open your eyes.

Hands were on your body, their touch felt familiar but not enough that you could place the figure. The blindfold cocooned your ears and amplified the sound of your breathing so that Clarke’s voice was a dull mumble.

You felt your body being released from your arms as your back sunk it to something soft and shiny. You immediately started trying to get free. Attempting to rip the blindfold off, you felt your hands and feet grabbed by multiple sets of limbs. Restraints were bound sloppily but tightly around your wrists, with the addition of the blindfold and multiple pairs of hands trying to hold you down you weren't making much, if any progress.

The smartest thing to do was to obliviate one of these obstacles. You choose the easiest one. Your hands clawed at your face, you could faintly feel your skin under your nails as you ripped at it before your fingers were finally able to latch onto the blindfold, yanking it down and around your neck.

Alie’s familiar red dress stood out strongly against the dull tones of the unfamiliar room. The group stood in tense anticipation as you snapped your head around, trying to recognize the room. You knew it wasn't part of the ark, it was too dirty and earth-like. The fur rug made you think Trikru but where you had no idea. When your mind drew a blank Alie grew frustrated. Or at least, her version of frustrated.

“We need to know where you are.”

Your thrashing resumed this time tenfold.

“WHERE AM I. WHERE AM I.”

They struggled to hold you down as you fought past your physical capabilities to escape. They all had a grip on a limb making movement nearly impossible. Injuries, even if you couldn’t feel them, weakened you.

You turned to the closest person, who happened to be Raven, and sunk your teeth into the flesh of her wrists. It was shallow, she yanked her hand back before you could go deeper. Her pain barely registered in your mind, her tears didn’t tug at your heart like you knew they should have.

Instead, you seized the opportunity to reach over and punch Jasper square in the nose. His hold loosed but by then Raven had latched back on, the blood from her wrists trickled slowly down onto your exposed skin. With each failed attempt at escaping struggling grew harder.

Clarke and Bellamy had been quick to grab a spare rope, using it to bound your hands and feet to the posts of the strange bed. You screamed in frustration as Alie stared at you. She showed no emotion, just the same semi-pleasant stare she always held.

“LET ME GO.”

You knew the awful things Alie could do and you were no stranger to them. The scream was a mix of terror and anger. You tossed your body up and down hoping to break the posts, the bed, something to set you free.

“LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO.” Your voice grew more strained with every word. If you could feel pain your throat would probably ache immensely.

The group stepped back after thoroughly double-checking the knots. The sheer look of horror was displayed across all of their faces and it vexed you deeply

Didn't they know you were doing this for them? For her?

* * * * * * * *

Raven stood in the other room, watching you made her feel sick to her stomach. Not that listening to your screams from a different room made it any better. She could hear the creaking of the bed and pained screams throughout the entire house. So she stood, waiting anxiously with Clarke for their next move.

Her nails had been chewed to the beds and she knew that if- when you came to, you would scold her till her ears bleed.

Clarke said she knew where to get a wristband and Sinclair knew how to alter it to suit their needs. But Raven grew nervous with the time it was taking for either of them to follow through on these promises.

She glanced to where Clarke was talking to the grounder and felt her muscles tense when the girl gave Clarke an angry glare. Whatever Clarke was trying to achieve, she was doing a horrible job of it.

By now all of her nails had been chomped town to raw skin so she switched to pacing. Back and forth, back and forth trying to drown out your ever-fainting screams.

Raven let an audible sound of relief when Clarke set the wristband on the table. It had been a silent mutual agreement that Sinclair would be the one to work on the wristbands.

One part because He knew them best and the other because Raven couldn’t keep her fingers from trembling long enough to do the necessary machine work.

“So how do we do this?” Clarke seemed the calmest of them all. Losing Lexa had numbed her in a way.

“If we can turn it into an EMP we can use it to fry the bitch out of her head. The electromagnetic pulse would destroy the critics. You just need to reverse the polarity and...”

Raven droned on in her explanation, faintly aware of how quiet the neighboring room had grown.

“We don’t know what the chip embedded in her brain is like, it could cause a bad outcome”

“Worse than this?” Her question was met with a defeating silence. Not that she expected anyone would answer. She wasn’t feeling too strongly about the plan either but she couldn't watch you slowly break apart, her lover disappearing with every day until all that's left would be a hollow shell. She tried to reassure herself that it was what you would want.

The group continued to talk, working up a solution until they had a solid plan mapped out. Monty and Octavia had fled to the dropship to gather the necessary parts while everyone else had stayed behind.

She made her way back into the room to watch you.

Maybe for a moment, she could envision you back to normal, pretending that she was simply watching you blissfully relax.

* * * * * * * *

Raven stood in the corner of the room. Her posture was rigid and he hands crossed over her chest relaying defensive positioning.

Not that you even cared. You surveyed your bound wrists with a bored expression. Her eyes fluttered between you and the floor constantly. The floor was basic dirt and about as interesting as well... dirt. Meaning that she was avoiding your eyes.

You rolled your wrists thoughtfully considering a slip-out process, you knew how Raven worked, how she thought, her weak spots. You could take her easily. You tugged at the right wrist restarting trying desperately to wrench your wrist free.

Alie watched you robotically her red dress unnatural in the atmosphere.

“With marginally more slack, you could reach those knots.”

The idea hadn’t occurred to you before. without pain inhabilitating you, you’d be able to dislocate your shoulder, properly creating more slack.

You twisted, you could feel the muscles in your arm pulling taut as you put out exasperated grunts. Raven’s eyes snapped to yours, her worry clouding her fear.

“Y/N, please...”

When you made no effort to stop she took note of your clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

“What- what are you doing?”

Her voice no longer had any effect on you. Your heart didn’t ache when you saw the pain in her eyes, you didn’t feel the need to comfort her when you could sense her anxiety. You were trying to help her, get her to take the chip so that you could be happy together so that her pain could end. But until she did, she was just a pest in your mission.

You kept tugging, you could feel your muscles grow stressed as you got closer to your goal. The grinding of your bones scrapped your ears as your arm popped out of its socket.

Raven stood frozen in shock. The fear on her face was evident but she was too startled to have a reasonable reaction.

“There is no pain here Ray, you could be free.”

Maybe it was the nickname rolling off your tongue, it’s lack of love or familiarity, or maybe she saw you trying to chew off the restraints, but she finally snapped out of it.

“STOP IT! GUYS.”

The blood has started to run back down your arm. Somehow in forgetting pain you also forgot about death. Raven didn’t know what to do, how to stop you, and stop the bleeding all at once.

Her heart was pounding out of her chest as images of your still body lying in a pool of blood clouded her thoughts.

“Oh god.”

She reached for your head, her calloused fingers against your cheeks as she tried to turn your head away from her wrists. You snapped at her, your teeth clenching around the air, but it was enough to get her to let go. The memory of your teeth in her skin and the stinging of her wrist were a painful reminder of how far you would go.

Clarke came in as you resumed chewing on the restraints. So close...

Before you could get them Bellamy and Raven had yanked you away. Enforcing your body in its position with more rope.

Clarke shouted at you to stop but you drowned her out, straining your neck in a futile attempt to reach the restraints.

“Alie.”

Your head snapped to Jasper’s as the familiar probing sensation in your brain occurred. Everything went dark, when you came back to it, Alie was staring at you. The slightest traces of distaste etched across her red lips.

“Let them help you”

You froze, staring straight ahead. For a moment everyone else did too. Probably expecting you to lash out again and bite one of them. When you didn’t Raven quickly took to untying your wrists.

You watched her with faint interest. You couldn’t remember why you wanted to save her but you knew you did, somewhere deep down. Your eyes traveled down her arms. Her fingers were latched tightly around your arm. The teeth marks were barely visible, caked under her dried blood. Or maybe that was yours. You felt something in you ache, you can’t feel pain but this feeling... felt painful?

You pondered upon its appearance as Clarke used her foot to relocate your shoulder.

You didn’t even flinch.

* * * * * * * *

Raven had volunteered to stay with you. God knows why, you had hurt her enough. You rolled her eyes when she did, not that anyone noticed.

She sat at the end of the bed. you didn’t really mind, not that you could even do anything if you did.

You looked her up and down.

“Do you still cry?” It wasn’t really a question, you knew the answer. You just wanted to hear her say it.

Her eyes shot up to yours. Her hands tensed in her lap and you momentarily took note of her bloody nails.

“What”

“You used to cry over my leg. Why did you stop?”

She opened her mouth but then shut it not knowing how to answer, or who was even talking to her.

“If I’m being honest I think it was quite selfish of you. I’m the one with the fucked up leg and yet, I was the one comforting you about it.”

Her expression hardened but the tears in her eyes stayed. your stomach ached again but you ignored it.

“Get out of her head Alie”

You smiled at her, a nice teethy one, completely catching her off guard.

“It’s not Alie. It’s me Raven, your- your.” but your mind drew a blank. How did you know Raven? You couldn’t remember and it made you mad.

“You're the reason I’m in here. the reason I took the chip. Because you let me get shot.”

“Shut up.”

“You couldn’t help me and when I needed you most you disappeared.” you sneered at her as tears ran down her face.

“I’m sorry... I-”

Clarke’s hand was on her shoulder, leading her out of the room before you could get another jab in, but that didn’t stop you from trying.

“I HATE YOU RAVEN. I HATE YOU.”

* * * * * * * *

You watched as Sinclaire put together a type of bracelet device.

“Their design is good, I won’t be able to get here before they disconnect you.”

You felt your heart rate spike knowing what was to come and that you had no way of stopping it. You struggled to try to pull your hands free before they could latch the device on. Your attempts were pathetic.

“You know too much. I can’t let them have you.”

The red dress disappeared and your head felt like it was on fire.

Die. Die. Die. Die. Die.

You had to get rid of the burning, it engulfed your head, shooting from the base of your neck, its flame growing stronger every second. You slammed your head against the headboard. Once. Twice. Every time you did the burning seemed to stop for a second, so you speed up. Screaming as your brain felt like it was being incinerated. You didn’t even notice when the bracelet was strapped on. Your eyes moved to Raven's tear-stained face and her mouth open in an apparent scream.

You almost stopped. A second of hesitation before the banging resumed.

You didn’t notice when blood started to run down your neck or when Octavia grabbed your head in an attempt to hold it still. You tried to scream at them to stop, that they needed to let you stop the burning but you couldn’t seem to form words.

You screamed as tears ran down your eyes.

“Please please please Raven. I don’t wanna die. Please don’t let them kill me!” You hiccuped. Your neck continued to jolt as you tried to smash it against the headboard. She looked heartbroken as her hands fell to your cheeks. You closed your eyes as sobs racked your body. The faint feeling of her lips against your forehead felt like a drop of water in the desert.

“I’m sorry love” You felt all the blood in your body vibrate as the current soared through you.

* * * * * * * *

When you woke up everything hurt. The pain shocked you at first. You’d grow accustomed to its absence. You went to move your hands to your head, the sticky blood coated your fingers as they rested upon a thin cut at the base of your neck.

“Ow.”

Everyone let out an audible sigh of relief. Her familiar hands were on the sides of your head, pulling your face into her chest. You allowed her scent and the smooth folds of her shit to engulf your senses as you tried to ignore the bustling headache that was sneaking up on you.

As if suddenly remembering you grasped her forearms pulling them away from your head, You stared at the deep, red indentations on her wrists.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you let out a soft gasp.

You had done that to her.

She sensed your emotions, she always did. And she always knew exactly what to do about it. Her hands moved back to your hair, stroking it gently while avoiding the cuts and bruises you’d received.

You stared up at her for a while until the pain grew too much and you closed your eyes, allowing your head to fall back forward against her stomach.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

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cerises-amoureuses · 3 years

Text

Firstly, what we need to realise is that Harry was incredibly attracted to Ginny throughout HBP, to the stage where seeing Ginny kiss another boy drove him up the wall. He spent a better part of the year wrestling with his emotions, which is something he didn’t go through with Cho Chang. Of course, this could be because Ginny, being Ron’s little sister, posed an interesting dilemma, but also because Harry’s feelings extended beyond a simple crush. The easiest way to deduct this is to go back to Harry’s infamous first kiss: he did not enjoy it, nor did he express any sort of desire to do it again. But in Ginny’s case, he had barely worked out his feelings for her when he started envisioning himself kissing her. Harry only ever thought Cho was nice-looking, but he experienced a very typical, boyish sort of lust and want when it came to Ginny.

“She began popping up in his dreams in ways that made his devoutly thankful Ron could not perform legilimency.” – Harry, HBP.

It does not take a genius to figure out exactly what he and Ginny were doing in Harry’s dreams. This inneuendo is remarkably suggestive; Harry had begun having sexual, inappropriate dreams about his best friend’s little sister that made him feel guilty and embarrassed. Moreover, note the instances when Ginny and Harry came in contact; they were often punctuated with Harry either feeling a “swooping sensation” or getting so tense that goosebumps erupted on the back of his neck. There is no evidence of Harry ever feeling jumpy by a girl’s slight touch before, which begs the question why it flustered him so physically in the first place. All evidences point to the thick sexual tension that Harry was feeling between himself and Ginny.

Simply put, Harry’s attraction to Ginny had permeated the boundaries of innocent crushes and gone straight to lustful thoughts and wild dreams.

“… He had received a lot more Bludger injuries during practice because he had not been keeping his eyes on the Snitch .. “ - Harry, HBP.

There is little room for argument for one trying to say that Harry was admiring Ginny in all innocence from a broomstick suspended in midair. This is another not-so subtle allusion to Harry’s burgeoning sexual attraction. Being a sixteen-year old boy, it is fairly plausible that Harry was being highly inappropriate, possibly undressing Ginny with his eyes, and he needed the force of a Bludger to snap him out of it. It is ridiculous to insinuate that Harry wasn’t looking a little intently than he ought to at Ginny; how else could he have ignored a Bludger speeding at him?

Quite apart from the fact that Harry described his impromptu mid-common room snog with Ginny in a remarkably heavenly fashion, he also explicitly went on to say that if they had time, they would talk about the Quidditch match. This does not specifically point to anything too scandalous, but it does make very clear that Harry intended on taking Ginny to a deserted area for more kissing. This seems a terribly bold step for two people who haven’t even started dating yet. It speaks a lot about their relationship that they started things off with a good, (presumably) lengthy snog, and jumped headlong into the opportunity to snog some more. It insinuates that the two were already very comfortable with each other, and already moving very fast in their relationship.

If that didn’t scream CLUE!!! enough, the next sure indicator was Harry’s feelings while they were dating. His narration was light, airy and genuinely happy – a dramatic change from the teenage angst that readers had been dealing with since GOF. It might be in my imagination, but I have always thought Harry in that period to be all kinds of insufferable, walking around with a goofy grin on his face and not paying much attention to anything – that lovestruck behaviour is largely hinted at in the books,after all. Hadn’t Professor Slughorn attributed Harry’s detoriating Potions grade to “lovesickness”? This obviously meant that Harry had been displaying visible symptoms of the same, which prompted that line of reasoning. What else could make the Boy-Who-Finally-Got-A-Girlfriend “happily impervious to gossip”?

On a particularly striking instance, Harry states that he was reliving a happy moment spent with Ginny in the grounds – if it was “happy” enough for Harry to dwell on it later, what could they have been doing, one wonders? (Cough, cough). Harry expressed explicit frustration that he could no longer spend time with Ginny, and there a very choice things that would, per say, “frustrate” a sixteen-year old boy.

Perhaps it isn’t overly obvious on skimming HBP, but if one analyses Harry’s narration, as I have, it becomes laughably clear that Harry and Ginny were almost definitely being adventurous. Ginny, for her part, is described as fiery and passionate – nothing in her character suggests restraint or holding back. A war, of which Harry was a main part, was going on in full-swing outside the cosy walls of the castle. It is additionally suggestive that JK Rowling also wrote in a specific conversation where it was revealed to Harry that people often elope during times of war. Ginny herself had commented playfully on it. If taking that step as such a young age wasn’t exactly responsible, the could hardly be blamed for it.

Another compelling argument is the fact that Harry, in particular, was, for want of a better word, especially well-equipped. For goodness’ sakes, the boy owned a legitimate Invisibilty Cloak, the Marauder’s Map and was an active user of the Room of Requirement. While Harry made use of these magical items for relatively noble and innocent purposes – in a non-Voldemort dangered world, what else would students want to make themselves invisible for? Ginny, in particular, doesn’t seem the type to ignore the dual potential of items like the map and Cloak.

Lastly, the dealbreaker was the stiflingly unbearable encounters between Harry and Ginny in DH. If there was slight sexual tension in the air between them in HBP, this was magnified about a hundred times in DH. Not many people choose to dwell on this, but I invite you think for a moment – imagine being boyfriend and girlfriend scarcely two months ago, and having a blissful, perfect relationship. Now, imagine being forced to live under the same roof – two teenagers – when they were so unwillingly forced to break up. They had barely spent a month dating, only to be brutally separated, and then made to live together again? Forget Crucio, there’s nothing more torturous than that.

Every time Harry made eye-contact her, he starts to recall moments spent with Ginny in secluded parts of the grounds, which is possibly the least subtle reference in the entire franchise. Again, he experiences acute, agonising frustration, to the point where he is actively trying not to brush against her while they eat dinner – it sounds almost as if he doesn’t trust himself. Another extremely suggestive moment is when Aunt Muriel makes a comment on the scandalous, revealing quality of Ginny’s bridesmaid dress, and the latter turns around and winks at Harry.

No explanation needed.

Need I dwell on Harry’s absolutely endearing jealousy while Ginny danced with other boys at the wedding? He, quite literally, leans against a pillar, folds his arms, (presumably with a glare on his face) and stares fixedly at Ginny.

One confusing instance, however, was Ginny’s – ahem – birthday present to Harry, in which he says, “And then she was kissing him like she had never kissed him before ...” This could somewhat serve as proof that they never progressed farther than snogging, but this greatly contradicts that aforementioned alusions to the same. It also seems a little naive to assume that they were exceedingly good little children while they disappeared for hours to secluded corners and fondly dwell on those instances to the point of distraction afterwards. No, it is my belief that it had been so long since Harry kissed her that he was automatically prone to over-exaggerating their sudden reprisal.

As I come to my conclusion, a few worthy mentions – Harry’s thoughts just before Voldemort struck him in the Forbidden Forest in DH: “And Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his –“ Alas, he never completed his train of thinking, but it does leave considerable food for thought.

Therefore, one can comfortably assume that in at least one area of his life, Harry acted like any normal boy his age. He had strong, passionate feelings for Ginny, and she unquestionably felt the same about him (“I never gave up on you. Not really. I always hoped …”), and those kind of things are recipes for teenage intimacy. However, anyone clinging to childhood beliefs can also safely predict that they waited. We may never know, but the evident has always been there, just as JK Rowling intended.

What are you thinking? 🤔

#hinny #Harry #Ginny #Harry potter #Ginny weasley

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

You Never Notice

Sykkuno x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Summary: The center of someone’s world is never aware of their importance even when everyone else is in the know. People are hard to understand, no denying, but if we all spilled our truth like how Y/N admitted her feelings to Sykkuno, mutual understanding would be achieved a lot more easily. JK, she needed an eternity and maybe a thousand pushes. What’s important is the result though, right?

Requested by Anon. You are my first Sykkuno request and I wish I could thank you with a tag. Instead, I’m gonna thank you with a fic in which I put my all. Thank you for the request, hope the final product doesn’t let you down. 🥰

Here we go again. Sykkuno’s love life is brought up. This time it’s more frustrating cause I can’t shout how wrong he is about himself and the effect he has on the people around him. He has no room to speak, he hasn’t experienced what I have - one of your best friends living in your head rent-free because you’re just that whipped by them. That’s right kids, some of us never grow past the middle school crushes - they are a constant for some. That can be a good or a bad thing, it completely depends on how you view it.

Currently, him and Rae are addressing some dating rumors that started spreading about them earlier this week while Felix, Sean and I are kicking each other’s butts in Party Animals. We’re not all playing together, actually, we were all playing different games when we hopped into the call and just grouped together after playing solo got boring. Rae and Sykkuno are playing Among Us on a random server, her being the only person who’s streaming right now. She said she just wanted to clear up the dating rumors cause they were annoying to see popping up on her feed on every social media platform she’s active on.

“It’s ridiculous, really. People just look for online personalities to put in imaginary relationships. Are they that bored? I know quarantine is getting to everyone, but damn“ Rae says, laughing a bit to take the edge off her words but I know she’s bothered by this ordeal more than she’s letting on. I know how much it bothers her when people ship random youtubers and streamers together, even when she’s not involved.

And I agree. Ever since I started streaming I’ve been shipped with my friends left and right. First Corpse, then Dave, Joel...you name them. It gets kinda gross cause these people are legit like siblings to me. Unlike Rae, though, I don’t waste my breath trying to clear those ‘talks of the net’ up. I don’t know if it’s for better of for worse that I remain silent on the issue when I’m involved but am willing to stand up for my friends when they find themselves in a similar situation. Some people think the reason I don’t share my thoughts is because the rumors are true, but the hint is most often taken, resulting in the ship ending. Well, that ship ending, there’s always a new one popping up. As Rae said, it’s ridiculous.

“Why does everyone think I am ever dating anyone? I’ve already commented on this: no one would date me.“ Sykkuno says through a sigh-like laugh.

“Why are you so sure?“ I blurt out without as much as a second thought

My eyes widen just a bit, just a bit. I’m not too surprised with myself. I am slowly losing control of my raging emotions and I’m afraid of what I’ll turn into when all my restraints snap. A mess, that’s the most likely answer.

“Well....“ Sykkuno trails off, clearly more than a little nervous, “I don’t have a girlfriend right now, and I haven’t had one in a while...Nor has a girl shown any interest to be more than friends with me in what feels like forever.“

“I’m sure you just don’t notice the hints girls drop. We can be pretty subtle.“ I try to sound as nonchalant as possible while I’m still in my panicked animal mode. And by animal I mean a cub. A scared cub that is now showing confidence but will run and hide right afterwards. I silently thank the universe that I’m not streaming right now. I can feel the heat on my neck and cheeks which is pure embarrassment and would have been more than evident on-camera.

“Yeah Y/N’s right, Sykkuno. Girls can be very subtle, but they will always let you know if they like you, even through the smallest of gestures. You gotta keep your eyes open.“ Rae backs me up reassuringly.

“Guys never notice anything.“ I say, rolling my eyes. I feel the pressure lessen thanks to Rae’s involvement in the conversation.

“That’s not true.“ Sean protests, “We pay close attention, especially to girls we are attracted to.“

“Yeah!“ Sykkuno pipes in again, “I’m pretty sure I would notice if a girl was dropping signals that she likes me.“

Now that stings. That legit makes me wince and cringe as though his voice delivered an actual physical hit to my chest and stomach. It’s really unpleasant, painful even.

“You never notice.“ There’s something about this triple opportunity - proving him wrong that he’d catch onto a girl’s signals; proving him wrong that girls aren’t attracted to him; coming clean about the biggest emotional struggle I’ve experienced in recent years; - that snaps my last emotional restraints. I will totally regret this later, but after the regret comes the relief which is 100% worth it.

“What?“ He sounds very puzzled. I can just about imagine him frowning as he tries to wrap his brain around something even I can’t wrap mine around.

“You say you’d notice a girl’s hints of attraction. OK.“ I nonchalantly throw Felix off the submarine in Party Animals while I keep talking, “Would you notice if a girl purposely doesn’t kill you in Among Us when she’s impostor? Or would you notice that a girl always sends you links to videos she finds funny? Or that she always shares music and movie recommendations with you and you only?“

Dead silence ensues. I feel like they have all glitched, considering Sean didn’t even try to put up a fight when I lifted him and threw him in the ocean as I previously did with Felix’s avatar.

Maybe I was a tad too specific and made the whole situation hit a little too close to home for me.

Sykkuno and I have become really close friends and we chat and play games regularly. As I mentioned, I give him movie and music recommendations and I only recently started acknowledging the fact that I’ve never killed him in Among Us. Natural instinct I guess. In fact, I feel the need for vengeance when he’s killed. I refuse to even vote for him unless it’s absolutely necessary.

Now that I think about it, it’s not his fault he has no clue. I just don’t know how to properly drop hints.

“Um...I mean, I guess I would notice but I’d never think they are that type of hints.“ He finally replies.

On point there, dear. On damn point.

“What does it take for you to be convinced that a girl is into you?“ Who cares that a bunch of people are about to witness this outpour? It’ll make it more real, yes, but it will also help me believe that it happened so I don’t try to crawl back to the point where return is an option. No return now. You’ve already passed two thirds of the way. The last one will set you and your mind free.

“The only way I can be sure is if she tells me, really.“ He sounds so nervous and shy, like he’s trying to draw as little attention as possible.

He doesn’t have to worry. I’m about to pull all the attention on me.

“Well in that case....you leave me no other choice.“ My screen displays me as the winner of this round of Party Animals - an easy one considering my friends are glitched in real life. “I like you, Sykkuno. I like you a lot. And I know you will see it from every context except the one its meant to be in so I’ll be even more head-on - I’ve liked you, as more than a friend for quite some time now, but buddy, you can be sooo oblivious sometimes. Anyway...“ Here’s that regret I was talking about, it’s already creeping in. “Don’t feel the need to say it back. I don’t wanna hear it if you don’t mean it. And Rae,“ I can’t help but laugh at the thought, “Sorry for making your chat go crazy. Peace!“

And I disconnect from the Discord call.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?“ I say out loud, staring at my desktop. “The cat’s out of the bag and you can move on now.“

I push myself to get some work done in order to get my mind off the mess I’ve created. I’m afraid of thinking about it, I know I’ll get too upset to do anything with the rest of my day if I do.

Suddenly, just as I’m about to open my email, my phone chimes. My brain doesn’t bother to stop my arm from automatically reaching out and checking the notification. A message.

From Sykkuno.

~ I knew you didn’t suggest me ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ for no reason

Me ~ So...?

~ So, I’m not the only oblivious one here, Y/N

Me ~ Wait WHAT?

~ ‘Nick And Norah’s Infinite Playlist’?

Me ~ Oooohhhh...I see

It takes him a few seconds to reply, the bubble with the three bouncing dots popping up and disappearing a few times now. I just now feel my heart banging against the inside of my ribcage, my pulse echoing in my ears.

He did seem a little too eager for me to watch that movie...

~ So, movie date?

I laugh, wholeheartedly and honestly. Genuine joy running through my veins.

Me ~ So it is.

The grin that is now decorating my features promises to stay there for the rest of the day. I bite my bottom lip at the thought that pops into my head.

Me ~ Phew, I can stop sparing you in Among Us from now on

He sends me three cry-laughing emojis in return, but I don’t need those. I can just imagine him laughing as he usually does with one hand covering his mouth. And here I thought my grin couldn’t grow wider.

Imagining him happy makes me smile. His happiness makes me happy. He makes me happy.

Even better...

I think the feeling’s mutual.

#sykkuno #sykkuno fanfic #sykkuno fanfiction #sykkuno x reader #sykkuno x y/n #x reader #reader #reader insert #x y/n #y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #among us #requests open #requests #fluff #love #crush #happy

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