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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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Recovery? (Adrenaline Junkie Part 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: PTSD, sleep paralysis, hallucinations, swearing, mentions of death/injury, depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation (marked so you can skip if it’s a major trigger for you), self harm (also marked), phantom pain syndrome

Word count: 3,722

Disclaimer: I have not experienced PTSD, sleep paralysis, hallucinations, or phantom pain syndrome, so I’m sorry if they aren’t portrayed correctly

When a wild bird can’t fly, it’s defenseless. It feels trapped even if it can still walk away. It feels alone even if it’s surrounded by other birds. If a bird loses the ability to fly, a piece of it is missing. A piece of itself. Something that it values as something unique to it and only it. It loses most mental stimulation and becomes numb until it can feel freedom again.

It’s been about two months since you respawned and you honestly felt so restless. You wanted to fly through the sky again, feeling the air move freely between your feathers. You wanted to weave in and out of the clouds. You wanted to feel something other than fear. When you’re not scared, you don't feel anything. You missed skydiving. You wanted, no, you craved the feeling of adrenaline flowing along every little nook and cranny in your cardiovascular system.

You found out that you get flashbacks whenever you see someone or something hulky and covered in a dark green color. You still haven’t told your family about this, you thought that it was something silly to be afraid of. You tried your hardest to avoid Philza the most; he always wore his favorite color with pride. You still haven’t apologized for screaming death threats at him when you were going through an episode.

You only had one other major hallucinogenic episode since the first one, but it wasn’t as bad as the first one.

You woke up in the middle of the night with the moonlight beaming through your window illuminating the silhouette of The Warden standing in the corner of your room. You willed yourself to open your mouth to scream for your brothers, but you couldn’t move. You could only watch it.

The telltale glowing drool fell from the corners of its wide mouth, mixing with the blood dripping off from its long claws. Its chest rhythmically glowed as the things writhing in it managed to squeeze through the small gaps between the bony confines of its ribs. The white wisps flew around your room freely, bouncing off your walls with thuds and eventually settling to float in front of your face.

You watched with wide eyes as their permanently gaping mouths struggled to form words. Somehow, you could see desperation in their empty eye sockets. A flurry of whispers met your ears, but you couldn’t make out anything they were saying. It was too jumbled.

You heard The Warden slowly drag its feet along your carpet over to your bed. The wisps started to thrash about and scream as it reached out and scooped them all up easily with a single swipe of a hand. It shoved them into its mouth and they reappeared behind the confines of its ribcage, the screaming getting louder and more distorted as they got swallowed. Multiple voices were shrieking with agony and anguish as The Warden turned its attention towards you. It bent over and hovered its face over yours as its drool and drops of blood started to drip onto your cheeks. You felt its rancid breath fan over you. It had hints of iron and rot.

Your mind was screaming at your body to move away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t have control anymore. Your breathing picked up as you felt your heart beat out of your chest. It just hovered over you doing nothing, like it was enjoying seeing your fearful eyes. Like it enjoyed the feeling of having complete power over you.

Your breath caught in your throat as it got closer to you, its mouth getting dangerously close to engulfing your entire head. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried with all your might to move any part of your body. After a while, your head slightly moved to the side. Gradually, you worked your way up to moving your head fully to the side. You felt all your muscles activate at once as you shot up from your bed with a strangled gasp.

You frantically flattened your body against the wall, reaching a shaking hand between the wall and mattress to grab the iron dagger you hid there. Holding it defensively in front of you, you scanned the room. There was not a single thing out of place. Everything was just as you left it before you went to bed.

You covered your mouth as sobs threatened to burst from your chest like the wisps in The Warden’s. You brought your knees up to your chest and buried your head in them. You didn’t sleep for a few days after that.

Other than the major episodes, your imagination placed The Warden everywhere you looked. You saw The Warden whenever Philza walked past you. You saw glimpses of it whenever you looked into the woods at night. You saw it behind you in the mirror reaching for your other wing. Sometimes, you thought you could hear the screams of the wisps in the distance.

Your entire family was constantly hovering over you; you always had at least one of the boys with you at all times. They wouldn’t let you out of the house.

Out of all of your family, Wilbur was probably the lesser of the evils. He didn’t judge you or question you, he just let you do your own thing. He would softly pluck the strings on his guitar and sing to you while you would lay on his bed. Those moments were one of the only moments where you would fully let your guard down and relax.

Hangouts with Techno were also pleasant, but he hasn’t looked you in the eyes since he helped you during your first episode. That was the only downside to it though; he would give you some of his mythology books to read or read them to you. His voice always soothed you as a kid. Sometimes, he would give you a hug when he saw that it was a rough day for you.

Tommy’s hang outs were kept to a minimal, the family didn’t trust him much because they thought his rambunctious and extrovert personality would overwhelm you. You were alone with him only twice out of the last two months. Usually, you both would lay on his bed and just talk about his life with the jukebox running softly in the background playing the discs that you and Philza gifted him during his first birthday with the family. He tried to get you to open up to him, but you always deflected. He shouldn’t know how fucked up you were, you vowed to protect him when Philza first brought him home. You would always protect your little brother, even if it was from yourself.

Before the incident, you would’ve killed to get more alone time with your father. But now, you tried to avoid Philza at all costs. You couldn’t help but see The Warden whenever you saw his tall form, green clothes, and large wings. When you had to hang out with him however, you wouldn’t look at him. You two would usually go to chop down trees or cook dinner together.

You felt incredibly guilty that you still haven’t apologized to him for everything you’ve put him through. Whenever you brought yourself to glance at him, he was always looking at you heartbroken. You knew that the outcomes of your first death gave the entire family some form of trauma, but you saw that it hit your dad harder than the others. You did threaten to kill him in graphic ways and you did hit him in your panicked stupor. You really needed to apologize for that. You probably should tell him about your silly little fear of green. You were going to wait until he was in his pajamas to apologize; they usually didn’t have much green.

You loved your family of course, but you were always the type of person to require some alone time to function, even before the incident. You felt incredibly drained physically, mentally, and emotionally. It took you a tremendous amount of effort to get out of bed in the mornings. You didn’t see any meaning in life anymore. Everything was gray and the only thing you actually felt was fear, so you didn’t see any point in getting up. The only reason you left your bed was because your brothers would coax you out. Everyday was monotonous.

*************************SUICIDAL IDEATION/SELF HARM*****************************

Your mind was always coming up with intrusive thoughts about killing yourself. When you did the dishes, you always imagined yourself gliding blades vertically along your wrists and just letting the blood pool out and mix with the dishwater. When you cooked breakfast, you would imagine placing your hand inside the burning flame of the stove. When you were staring out of the window at night looking for The Warden, you would imagine yourself disappearing into the woods to look for a creeper to blow you up. When you passed the potion chest, you imagined chugging poison so you could feel something before you died. Whenever you used an ore during crafting, you always thought about going back to the cave so you could be put out of your misery again. It did a damn good job at killing you the first time. Who knows, maybe The Warden would be merciful this time. The most common thought was finding a tall cliff or mountain and jumping off to finally feel the wind between your feathers and the adrenaline running through you for the last time. You daydreamed about that last one a lot.

The little scrapes you got on the little tasks given to you by your family gave you a smidge of pain. A smidge of feeling other than numbness or suffocating fear. So, in a desparate attempt to feel something, you started to cut yourself You have a dagger hidden in your room that your family didn’t know about and you constantly wore a long sleeved cloak to hide your wing so you could easily hide the cuts. It would give you some light in the dark abyss that was your current mental state.

Sometimes, you would make small cuts on your wrists and thighs when everything was too overwhelming, but the relief it gave you wouldn’t last throughout the day. You were scared to cut deeper. You didn’t want to deal with infection or smuggling healing potions underneath your family’s noses. You would probably get caught and they’d take away the very little freedom and control you had in your life.

**********************SUICIDAL IDEATION/SELF HARM OVER*************************

You grunted in discomfort as you chopped some wood with Philza behind your house. It was a bad day for the phantom pains in your absent wing, you felt shooting pain and itchiness along where it was supposed to be all day long. You heard him pause his actions and walk over to you. When he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, you squeezed your eyes shut as you remembered the way he grabbed you the day you respawned.

“Are you alright hun?”

Shrugging off his hand, you continued to chop lumber. “I’m fine Dad.”

“Are you sure? You looked like you were in pain.”

You sighed, “It’s… it’s just a bad day for the pain.”

“Where does it hurt? I can go grab you a potion.”

He sounded like he always did when he talked to you, concerned. You wanted to be treated like a normal person again. You didn’t like it when your family walked on eggshells around you constantly, it made you feel like a stranger in your own home.

“My right wing hurts. And potions don’t help, I’ve tried that. There’s nothing you can do.”

He paused for a second. You imagined him furrowing his brows and tilting his head lightly to the side as he contemplated what you said. It was the first time you opened up to him about anything. “...Your wing still feels things?”

You grunted as you swung the axe down onto the log, “Yeah, it feels things sometimes. It’s mostly a shooting pain or an itching sensation where I don’t have a wing. There’s nothing I can do about it, so I’m learning to live with it.”

“How long has this been happening?”

Your mind flashed back to the conversation you two had a year ago. “Since I lost it.”

“Why don’t we turn in for the night? The sun is starting to set and we’ve got enough wood to last us a week.”

You silently nodded and bent over to pick up the logs you chopped. Grabbing as much as your arms could hold, you put the planks into the chest next to the back door. Turning around to grab more, you jumped back when your eyes met with Philza’s chest. His hand was outstretched towards you. You hugged your body as you looked away from him.

“(Y/n), you’re not okay. Please just let me help you.”

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

“You haven’t spoken to anyone about your emotions, bottling it up isn’t good hun.”

“That’s because I don’t have anything to talk about.”

He sighed, “Why don’t we get your brothers to cook dinner so we can have a little chat. Meet me in your room.”

Wordlessly, you walked back into the house and straight up to your room. Sitting on the bed, you put your head in your hands as you waited for the inevitable vulnerability. After a couple of minutes, you heard a gentle knock on your door. It opened to reveal your dad smiling at you.

Glancing back at your hands, you slipped your hand under the sleeve of your cloak to pinch the skin so you could try to ignore him when he walked over to sit next to you. You turned your head away from him.

You felt the mattress shift under his weight when he sat next to you. You felt his breath tickle the top of your head as he spoke to you, “please, talk to me.”

“I’ve already told you, there’s nothing to talk about Dad.”

“...You’ve been seeing The Warden whenever you look at me, haven’t you?” He sounded so broken. It must be hard to have your own child avoid you because you reminded them of their murderer.

You were quiet for a few moments while you battled against the tears that threatened to leak from your eyes. Swallowing thickly, you shakily said, “I’m sorry Dad, I’m so sorry. I-I see it when I see you. I see it everywhere.”

“Hey,” he gently said, “it’s alright. Nothing’s your fault, you can’t control it. Is there anything… specific that reminds you of it?”

“...Yeah, I see it vividly when I see something tall and… and dark green. I can’t help but to see it when I see you.”

He felt his heart sink. He always wore green, no matter the day. He was basically torturing his child just by being around them. God, what kind of father was he if he didn’t realize that sooner? He felt like a failure.

You spewed reassurances at him when you heard his breath hitch. “Dad, it’s not your fault, you didn’t know about it. It’s just a stupid fear and it’s my fault for not getting over it. I-I’ll do better. I can-”

“Stop. Nothing is your fault and it’s certainly not stupid. You’re traumatized, (y/n), you’re traumatized and it’s nobody’s fault except The Warden’s,” it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “Would you feel more comfortable if I changed clothes?”

“You- you don’t have to. I don’t want you to change anything because of me.”

“(Y/n), I’m your father. I’ll do anything if it means you feel better, I want to help you get better. Changing what I wear isn’t a big deal. I’ll be right back.”

“You really don’t have to, Dad.”

“Nonsense, I’m going to go change. It’s really not a big deal.”

He stood up and speed walked out your door. You felt awful, he was changing because of you. Because you were scared of a fucking color. You needed to get a grip. You were weak.

The door opened again to reveal Philza dressed in an old white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. His wardrobe was very limited when it came to colors other than green; it was strange seeing him in anything but green. You felt a little more at ease around him, but you still couldn’t look him in the eye. You still felt guilty.

Sitting next to you again, he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “It’s been a while since I’ve worn these, I uh forgot how comfy they are.”

You two sat in an awkward silence. It was obvious that he was lying to you about liking them. He was shifting his wings around uncomfortably and shifting on the mattress. With wings, it was hard to find fabric that didn’t irritate the base of the wing. The base of the wings were more sensitive than any other body part.

“You’re lying.”

“Lying? About what hun?”

“About being comfortable. They’re irritating your wings aren’t they? This is why you shouldn’t change anything about yourself for me, I just screw things up for everyone.”

“No you don’t-”

“Yes I do, Dad. Let’s be honest here, I’m a complete fuck up. I mess up everything I’m near. I messed up the family. Everything’s different because of me.”

He moved to kneel in front of you, placing both his hands firmly on your shoulders.

“Look at me, (y/n).”

When you didn’t make any move to look up from your tightly clasped hands, he gingerly moved your chin up and put his hand back on your shoulder. His face was stern and his blue eyes were blazing. Oh god, you really fucked up didn’t you? You knew you shouldn’t have told him anything.

“You are not a fuck up. Do you hear me? You. Are. Not. A. Fuck up.”

“But-”

“Ah,” he sharply chided, “I’m not done. You aren’t a fuck up. You couldn’t control what happened to you. You didn’t know that you’d die when you went into that cave. You didn’t know that you’d lose a limb. You didn’t mess up the family, you could never, ever, do that… (Y/n), change was bound to happen sooner or later. Everything changes, that’s just how life works. Even if we didn’t want change, it’s inevitable.”

He could tell from your bloodshot eyes and wobbling chin that you were about to cry, it was always your tell as a child. In that instance, he saw you as the kid that came running to him after you scraped your knee. An innocent kid that always saw the good in the world. He pulled you into his chest and gently wrapped his wings around you, humming the song he would sing to you when you had a nightmare as a child.

“It’s alright, hun, let it out.”

You finally broke, throwing your arms around him and sobbing into his chest. Your body shook with muffled sobs as you released all the pent up emotion you’ve been deprived of in the last two months. It felt nice to talk to your dad again, to be close to him again. For the first time in two months, you felt completely safe. Your dad will always protect you.

“It’s been so hard Dad,” you blubbered out. “I don’t know what to do. I’m broken, Dad. I can’t be fixed. I feel so empty.”

“Hun, no. You can be fixed, it just takes time. We’re here for you. Me, Technoblade, Wilbur, and Tommy. We’re always going to be here for you no matter what. We’ll help you.”

You fell silent as your body convulsed with silent sobs. You two sat there for what seemed like hours before you finally ran out of tears. You pulled back from him and wiped at your snotty nose.

“I never apologized for what I said to you two months ago. I-I shouldn’t have said any of those things. It hurt you in ways that I’ll probably never understand, and… I’m sorry Dad.”

“(Y/n), you don’t have to apologize. You were scared and you were trying to protect your brothers. That was really brave of you to do, I’m proud of you.”

You threw yourself at him again in a tight, one-winged hug. He chuckled as he hugged you back.

“…Thank you Dad, for everything.”

“Anything for you,” he glanced at the clock you made on your wall. “It’s almost dinner time, let’s go see if your brothers burnt down the kitchen.”

You genuinely smiled at that, remembering the last time your brother cooked together. It was a couple of years ago when you and Philza were coming back from visiting a nearby village. Philza thought it was a spectacular idea to give your brothers the task of cooking dinner. That day, you two came home to a fire engulfing the entire stove and your brothers arguing about whose fault it was. Since then, they weren’t allowed to cook together.

“That’s a good idea, remember the last time they cooked together?”

He chuckled. “Don’t remind me, I nearly pulled out all my feathers cuz of the stress it gave me. I think it even gave me a few gray hairs.”

You snorted. “Well, they’re quiet. Too quiet. We need to go down there before they burn down the house.”

He kissed your hair before you stood up and started to walk to the kitchen. He followed suit, throwing an arm over your shoulders and pulling you into his side. Surprisingly, they didn’t burn down the kitchen. Instead, they actually cooked dinner well. Some of it was burnt, but to their credit, they hadn’t cooked together in a while.

At the dinner table, you felt like you were part of the family again. You laughed with your brothers when Philza scolded them for something they said. You felt like there was a giant weight lifted off from your shoulders. Of course, you were still traumatized and had other issues you had to work out, but now you knew you had your family to help you through it. You wouldn’t ask for anything different.

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aressss1 · 3 years

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Through Fire and Ice Chapter 12

(Technoblade x Reader)

Chapter 12

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A/N: Warning: Mentions of depression, suicide, and gore. Stay safe guys!

~~~~~~

You were in your home, legs propped up on the arm of the couch, nose buried deep in a book. You had put your small library to use for the last couple days. Techno still came over to see you, but you hadn’t seen Dream in a while. You wondered what he was up to. You found yourself skimming and ultimately forgetting what you had just read in your book by a few paragraphs. You sigh, today was just not your day for focusing on the things you wanted to focus on.

You groaned, deciding on taking a walk through the burrow, to take your mind off of things. Depression was starting to set in. You couldn’t keep your mind off how long you had been down here. You hadn’t seen the sun in what felt like a very long time. Others were feeling the same way as you, hopeless… What was the point of… just surviving?

You took a nice long walk, trying to keep your head clear. Keeping your eyes down, because you kept getting weird looks from some of the people you had passed. You wished you could find Techno, but he was off mining Phil’s mine, you had no idea where to even find him, he could be off exploring another mineshaft, and you didn’t want to risk getting lost in one of those. You stopped at the edge of the beacon. Iron blocks underneath held it up, it seemed like such a waste of resources to you… Not that you knew anything about beacons.

“You look confused.” You looked over to see Phil just feet away from you. “Anything that I can help with?” He walked over to you, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of you.

“Why do we need this beacon?” You ask, your foot kicking at one of the iron blocks. Phil chuckled, his fingers tapping on the iron.

“It increases productivity in mining.” Phil explained. “When we go to expand this cavern, we will be able to clear out more in a small amount of time, than normal. It’s what we used in the beginning.” Phil recalled the events from a little over a month ago. “It’s helping the new arena right now.”

“Arena?” You questioned your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why do we need an arena?” Phil sighed at your question.

“Something for people to do…” Phil had a distant look in his eyes. “People aren’t able to cope, we’ve lost a few people…” You bit your lip, not questioning it further. “Anyway…” He cleared his throat, changing the subject. “We have a meeting tonight; will you be there?”

“Yeah, seeing as I wasn’t able to come to the last one.” You nodded giving him a smile. Your heart sinking for those who weren’t here anymore.

“Good, I can’t wait to see you there. Techno will probably be back by then too.” You perked up at the mention of Techno. Phil’s eyes lit up and a warm smile spread across his face. “Techno’s almost done with the mine in general, and he mentioned that you like books…” He faced toward the beacon, the light highlighting his face.

“Yeah?” You stood shoulder to shoulder with him, leaning your head back to look toward the ceiling where the beacon met the stone above.

“Has he told you what exactly he’s digging for?” He pauses waiting for your answer. When you shake your head, he continues. “One of the biggest libraries I’ve ever seen. I have plans for when he breaks through. You can take your pick of the books you want, just as long as I don’t need them first.” He gave you a wink. Feeling your face light up, you gave him the biggest smile. He chuckled, putting a hand on your shoulder. You hated that you still flinched at his touch, but you were still working on it. “Hopefully that library will hold the key to getting the world back to normal.” He huffed, his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, as he went into deep thought. You cocked your head at him.

“You think that library is going to tell us how to fix all of this?” You motioned at everything in general, sounding a little skeptical. Biting the inside of your cheek, your eyes search his face. He seemed unsure… Maybe this was why he didn’t tell everyone in the Burrow? Maybe he didn’t want to give them false hope. Maybe…

“I’ve got to try…” He had a faraway look in his eyes as he sighed. “I’m the reason we’re all down here in the first place.” He sounded extremely guilty. You were about to ask him what he meant when a voice called your name behind you, you didn’t have to look to know it was Dream.

“What are you doing?” He sounded happy to see you. When he trotted up by your side your eyes land on him. He didn’t have his mask on… Nor a shirt, and he was drench in sweat. You had to stop yourself from looking over his sculpted body.

“Hey Dream! I’m just taking a walk to clear my head. What are you doing?” You gave him a smile, as he ran his hand through his hair. His green eyes softened when he searched your face. He subconsciously stepped closer to you, which annoyed Phil to no end.

Phil watched the interaction between the two of you, he didn’t dare say anything to ruin the moment. He wanted to know your thoughts about Dream, how you reacted to Dream himself. He was an observer, and that wouldn’t change. He couldn’t meddle in whatever this was between you, Dream and Techno.

“Foolish has got me building for him on the arena.” Dream jerked his thumb behind him. He stepped forward, a worried look on his face, as he towered over you. “You needed to clear your head?” You could hear the concern in his voice. “Can I do anything to help?” He offered and you shook your head.

“I just miss the sun, that’s all.” You waved your hand at him trying to signify that you were okay. He frowned down at you. He obviously didn’t like your answer. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, as he looked toward the ceiling in thought.

“I know something that will cheer you up. Let me get my stuff.” You tried denying him, as you didn’t want to bother him with your problems, but he sprinted off before you could get one word out. You let out a sigh as your eyes trail after him, he disappeared into a crevice in the wall. Was that where the arena was? It made sense, as the hospital was right next door, the participants could be cared for in an instant.

“Dream’s a good friend, isn’t he?” Phil asked his eyes trained on the crevice Dream disappeared into. He kept his tone light and friendly, but he just… couldn’t put his finger on it. He had a bad feeling, and he always knew to trust his gut.

“Yeah,” you let a breath out you didn’t know you had been holding. “He’s the one who built my house for me. He’s shown me a lot of kindness.” You chuckle keeping a light conversation with Phil. By the time Dream had come back he had more clothes on this time, his mask over his face once more.

“Ready princess?” He held out his hand, to you which you gingerly took, a smile spread across your face. Phil had to stop himself from physically cringing at his nickname for you. You said your goodbyes to Phil, who gave you a half wave, he never took his eyes off Dream. The look on Phil’s face was enough of a warning to Dream. Dream stood tall, not wavering under Phil’s gaze. “See ya later Phil.”

Dream led you back to your own house, people watching you as the both of you walked by them. They still gave you weird looks and it was starting to get to the point of where you started glaring back at them. You were sick of the looks people gave you.

��What’s with them?” Dream nudged your shoulder. You shook your head deciding not to make a big deal out of it. “You know you could just ask me to kick their ass for you.” He chuckled, smiling down at you.

“They’re not worth it, I promise you.” A laugh escaped your lips, your body slightly leaning into his arm.

“Well…” Dream hesitated, “they might not be worth it… But you are.” Your eyes met and you swore your heart skipped a beat. His voice was rough, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks. He wrapped his arm around you pulling you to him. When the two of you were standing in front of your house, you could see him glance down at you. “So… Sapnap and I found something when we were building the house…”

You looked up at him in curiosity. Your eyes scanning over what you could see of his face. He stepped forward kneeling at your porch, grabbing at a board. The board was loose, and he easily pulled it off, leaving a small hole that could fit the two of you inside.

“I kept forgetting about this, but I wanted to show you as soon as I could.” His mask turned back toward you and you squatted down trying to get a good look of what was in the hole. Nothing but darkness, but you felt a cold breeze hit your face. So… that’s why your house was cold. “Come on.” He sat down on the stone as he slid himself into the small crawlspace. You followed suit, as Dream lit a torch, lighting the way down the tunnel.

If you looked up, you could see through the cracks of the floorboards and into the house. That made you uncomfortable. Dream offered his hand to you, following your gaze.

“I wanted to show you this to see if you wanted to convert this into a basement, but Schlatt hired me on the building crew for the arena, that’s why I’ve been busy.” Your eyes trace over his silhouette, the light illuminating his face as he turned to look at you.

“I was wondering why my house was really cold.” You stood closer to him as the two of you went deeper. Eventually he ended up handing you, his coat. Your house was close to a natural cave. It was lit up by torches. Your voices bounced off the walls as the two of you talked. Your hands skimming over the cold stone on the walls. You found yourself getting tired, because there were a lot of uphill slopes and there were times you needed to catch your breath, Dream waited patiently for you.

“We’re almost there, princess.” He reassured you as he patted your shoulder. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.” He pulled his mask off completely hanging it off his belt. It took a little while and before you knew it, the path widened into a bigger cave. You marveled at the sight before you. Dream spread his arms wide as he turned back to you, his smile causing flutters in your chest. “Well?”

In front of you, was a frozen waterfall leading down into a shallow looking pool of water. Snow flurried in from the ceiling, where there was a massive hole to the surface. White light shone down over everything. Rough snow covered stone led to the top of the tall waterfall. You looked on in awe, as Dream took your hand pulling you to him.

“I wanted this to be our special place.” His voice took on an almost sultry tone. “You can see the sun sometimes when you stand on that waterfall.” He pointed to the top of the waterfall as he crouched down as if to get your point of view, his cheek grazing against yours. His arm snaked around your waist pulling you even closer to him. Your face was red, you didn’t have to look in a mirror to know that, but you leaned into his touch, your stomach doing flip flops. “I hope it’s not too cloudy.”

“Wow…” Was all you could muster, any and all other words got stuck in your throat. Feeling Dream’s laugh rumble in his chest made you look into his sparkling green eyes. Seeing the excitement in his eyes, allowed for a smile to spread on your cheeks.

“I know it’s cold here, but when we want to be alone…” He trailed off, his eyes flicking down to your lips, as if they were mesmerizing. “We could come here and… Talk.” He cleared his throat, turning his face away to hide the blush dusting his cheeks.

“I think I’d really like that…” You giggled, subconsciously stepping closer to him. The two of you made your way to the scene before you, he held your hand as the two of you climbed up the rocks to the top of the waterfall. The water was frozen over and slick, and he held on tighter to you to keep you from falling. The two of you fought the icy wind that whipped around you.

“Look.” Dream directed your attention to the hole in the ceiling once the two of you were in the right position. Sure enough, you could see the sun peeking out through the clouds. You let out a breath of air you hadn’t known you had been holding. “I know this isn’t what you meant… But I knew I could at least give you something.”

“I love it, thank you Dream.” You bowed your head to him. “This has been amazing!” You peered down the frozen waterfall, the height of it, making you dizzy. The two of you stayed there at the top of that waterfall, until the two of you couldn’t bear the cold anymore. He was first to move toward the steep rocks that you both had come up from. You chose to take a look around before you made your way over to him. At your movement, even though you didn’t pick up on the sounds like Dream did… He heard a clacking sound emerge from a particularly dark corner. It was a ways away from the two of you.

It all happened in a second, the yellowing rotting bones of a stray pushing itself up from a sitting position, tattered clothing, and other bits of dry rot dangling from those same bones, the sockets of the skeleton devoid of anything. The bones clacked together, being held together by magic. Phalanges pull back the string of the bow, the sound almost deafening to Dream. An arrow whizzes through the air, toward you grazing your shoulder, only because Dream pulled you out of the way. The action caused you to lose your footing. It was as if the scene played in slow motion.

You fell backward on the ice, but… You didn’t hit the ground… You had gone over the waterfall. Your hands reached out for Dream, the look on his face was one of horror, he lunged forward grabbing your wrist, the action making you slam against the crag rocks and ice of the waterfall as you dangled. He was on his stomach trying to pull you up, and it would have been easier if the monster above him wasn’t shooting arrows into his back. He tried telling you, it was going to be okay, but with each arrow his grip on you lessened. His hand went slack, and you watched his eyes flutter closed, and you fell. Your eyes stayed on his face as you fell.

The rocks below you did a number on your body, tiny scratches and cuts littered your body, you mostly slid down the rocks as you fell, you searched for anything to grab on to, but nothing could stop your descent onto the ice below. Your leg felt broken, and you were scared to move your body in fear of what else could be broken. The haze of what happened clouded your mind, and you let out a groan. Which… You really shouldn’t have done that. Because the monster that was still up there made its way down to you. It jumped from the top of the waterfall, without a care for its own health. Bones cracking in places as it impacted, It was just out for blood. It approached your form that lay in the middle of the ice. Its phalanges pulling back the string of the bow once more.

The arrow whizzed by landing nearby in the ice. You reached in your inventory. Summoning forth your golden apple, you take a bite into it. It didn’t heal everything right away, but you felt… Powerful you rolled to the side just as another arrow landed where you previously were. The pain you felt still was immeasurable, but the apple allowed for your leg to heal, at least just enough.

You scanned the area; you knew from stories Techno had told you that the effects of the apple wouldn’t last too long so you pushed yourself up. Your muscles sore, you grabbed a nearby rock, throwing it at its skull. It hit, the forehead split open as it recoiled from the rock and you took this as your chance to limp forward grabbing the bow out of its hands. Your body screaming at you to stop. One bite of that apple was enough to heal you to a certain extent. This was your only chance and you had to take it.

You brought the bow down on its skull, and right before your eyes it cracked, it was done. It crumbled along with the magic that held it together, only a few of the bones survived.

You fell to your knees, in front of the bones. Tears flowing forward, you felt faint, you needed rest even though your mind pushed for you to stay conscious get out of there, your body disagreed. It wouldn’t be until much later when you woke up again.

Techno had no idea where you were. You were probably off hanging out with Niki. He hadn’t seen you all day. His tune quickly changed when he made his way to Niki’s place and he didn’t find you with her. When you weren’t around to do your route, panic started settling in his chest. Niki bit her lip, trying to not be worried herself. If Techno was worried, then she should be worried. That’s how she looked at it.

“She’ll be okay,” She sounded like she was trying more to convince herself rather than Techno as she stirred the contents of the pot she was working on. Techno went ahead and did your route for you hoping he would see you in the process. He came back empty handed and Niki, gave him a worried look. “Should we wait to see if she’ll be at the meeting tonight?”

“No,” Techno grunted, “I’m going to see if she’s at her house.” He pulled his cloak tighter around him.

“I’ll come with you.” Niki couldn’t just sit there; the dirty dishes would still be there when she got back. The two of them set out to find you.

“Ugh…” Your eyes cracked open. You were freezing, feeling the pain of frostbite settle into your skin, your clothes stuck to the ice as you sat up. Your bones cracked and you looked up to the place where you had fallen. Dream was still up there. The golden apple you bit into laid a few feet away from you. You leg still hurt immensely, but you needed to get up there to Dream. You pulled yourself up to your feet, trying not to put too much weight on your leg.

You pulled yourself up using the bow like a crutch to Dream, who lay there still. The arrows still lodged in his back. The blood caked over him. You had no idea what to do in this situation. Your cries of help were left unheard, as they echo through out the cave. Letting your fingers trace over his pulse, you feel the tears well up, he was still alive, riddled in arrows. Having no prior knowledge about how to dress a wound you felt helpless. People told you to keep arrows in, to lessen bleeding… But with everything that had happened you couldn’t remember if that were common knowledge or just something you had read in a story. Your mind was too hazy. You opted to break the arrows, so they were shorter.

You bit your lip grabbing at his arms, draping him against your back. Carrying him down, your weight still on the bow, you have no idea how you managed to get him to the entrance of the cave. Survival at the forefront of your mind, but… He was heavy, nothing but deadweight against you. You listened to his shallow breaths in your ear. You thought about force feeding the apple to him… But you were scared he would choke… You decided you would be better to feed it to him should he regain consciousness. You were truly clueless in all of this… You never needed to know any of this in your old life. Adrenaline alone seemed to be the only thing that kept you going forward.

Adrenaline… Could only get you so far though… Your body ached, and before too long it had given up on you, and the two of you went tumbling down a particularly steep slope of the cave. Yeah… You weren’t going to get back up from this… Your eyes cracked open, and you were met with darkness… Pure and utter darkness… Being scared of the dark was one thing… Being scared of what lurked beyond it was another. You couldn’t afford another attack…

You held your bow close to your chest, if anything came at you, at least you didn’t go out without trying to survive. You let out a shaky breath… Taking another breath you let out the loudest scream you could muster.

“Someone! Anyone!” You were met with silence once more, and that’s when the tears started flowing forth. You were going to die down here… Well… At least you got to see the sun one last time.

“What’s this?” Niki crouched down in front of the hole under your house.

“The reason her house has been cold.” It clicked in his mind, as he started sliding himself into the hole. You had to be in there. Where else could you be if not the ominous hole. Good thing he always kept torches. He led Niki down the tunnel, she walked by his side when the tunnel opened up into a wider path.

It didn’t take long to find you… Both he and Niki dropped to their knees at your side. While he checked your condition, Niki checked on Dream. You grabbed at his shirt the tears flowing from your eyes still. The sight killed him.

“It’s okay Darlin’. I’m here.” He cooed in your ear. “Can you move?” The words stuck in your throat, leaving only sobs to be heard, but you nodded. He cradled you in his arms as he waited for Niki to determine what to do next.

“Techno…” Niki sounded alarmed at the loss of blood Dream had gone through. “We need to get them out of here.” Her eyes skimmed over your leg… It definitely hadn’t healed in the right position. “You’re going to have to carry him.” Niki winced knowing exactly what she was asking of Techno. Let’s just say Techno was less than thrilled. Niki knew she couldn’t lift Dream,

“Do you need help with her?” Niki shook her head. This was going to be a painful walk for you, but at least you had Niki to lean on. He grabbed ahold of Dream throwing him over his shoulder, almost haphazardly. The scent of Dreams blood filling his senses. This was going to be a long walk back.

The voices swam through his mind as if they were sharks roaming the ocean, sniffing out the blood. Wanting more of it to be shed. He had barely gotten Dream in the front door, setting him on the couch, only to go back to help you into the house. You were in better shape than Dream, so Niki started working on Dream first. He sat on your bed looking down at your purple leg.

“You used the golden apple, didn’t you?” He had done this himself, and the process to fix it was not a fun one. Memories of Phil having to rebreak his arm to heal it in the right position filled his mind. You nodded, your tears running dry. You were still unable to speak. “That’s the one downside to health items, bones don’t heal right if they’re not in the right position…” He wondered exactly what you had gone through in that tunnel. The voices itched at him to go see what lied at the end of the tunnel. “Darlin’, I’ll be right back. You need to rest as much as you can okay.” Your hand sought his out and he gave your hand a slight squeeze.

“O-kay.” The word tumbled from your lips, and he let his eyes linger on yours for just a second before he stood.

“I promise I will be back okay.” He waited for your nod, letting himself back down into the tunnel. What was Dream trying to pull here? He stopped at the spot he found the two of you. His eyes spying a bow. He remembered you had clutched to it before he found you… Maybe he should teach you how to use it. He should have taught you how to fight… Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation? He didn’t even know half the situation, but hell he was pissed, and that anger was directed at Dream for being careless.

He put the bow in his inventory, and he trudged on. When he got to the end of the tunnel, he knew why Dream had brought you here. He stood at the entrance, his eyes scanning the cave, as he shook his head. Coldness from the outside world seeped in. It didn’t take long to smell your blood as he approached the ice. His nose wrinkled, and the voices called for destruction.

‘Blow it up.’

‘Keep her safe.’

‘Burn it all.’

His eyes flooded black, at least he could agree with the voices on one thing… He had just the TNT to blow the place sky high in his ender chest.

“The grand opening of the new arena is coming up!” Phil announced, spreading his arms wide. “With the opening of the arena, I’m also continuing the use of emeralds as currency,” Phil’s voice carried through the cavern. The meeting was underway, and he still hadn’t seen you or Techno, he figured the two of you just didn’t want to come, he was okay with that.

“I’m also opening up a general store.” Schlatt’s voice cut in as he stood and he made his way to Phil, ultimately standing next to him. “A store that you can use your emeralds AND your Schlatt coins in.” Schlatt nailed his customer service voice, Phil could see people perk at the thought of a general store. Phil let him continue his explanation of the Schlatt coin, his eyes scanning over the people. What he was about to say next after Schlatt was done might not make them all happy, but it needed to happen.

“Now that we have the announcement of the arena out of the way…” Phil started when Schlatt took his seat. Phil cleared his throat, averting his gaze from the ever-judging gaze of Schlatt. “I need to implement some mandates.” His hands locked behind his back. “We are still in need of food… So… I am asking that everyone have their own gardens. Niki can’t keep cooking for the majority anymore. So, everyone needs to pitch in on this food situation.” Grumbles of annoyance could be heard from the crowd.

“Did you feel that earthquake just a few minutes ago?” An impatient woman asks bypassing the conversation. “What if we’re all crushed? Food is the last thing on my mind right now.” Phil bit his lip, he didn’t have all the answers and he never pretended he did, but now everyone was looking at him expectantly, as if he could fix an earthquake. He couldn’t lie to himself… He thought the same thing when he felt the rumble beneath his feet. But he felt nothing else since then.

“I’ll be working on that with my top redstone engineer Sam. We will figure everything out.” Phil tried everything to sound professional, but people kept asking him questions. Questions that he couldn’t give them answers for, at least not yet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar pink head of long hair.

“Phil.” A man stood from his seat, his eyes leveling with Phil. “When are you going to deal with the hybrid issue?” All eyes landed on the man, and then they switched to Phil, to gauge his reaction.

“Hy…brid issue?” Phil looked around, while most of the villagers here were human, there were a small handful who were hybrids, Techno and Ranboo included.

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” The man snarled. “Hybrids are a problem. They’re taking our women,” his eyes landed on Techno, “we don’t need a pig fucker in our midst. She should be banished too.” His eyes slid over to Ranboo, who had the dragon egg sitting in his lap. “Now they’re laying eggs, as if we need more mouths to feed, and more hybrids running around.” Ranboo let out an offended ‘HEY!’ and Phil couldn’t stop the chaos that ensued. The hybrids against the humans… Phil couldn’t hear himself think with all the shouting. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re all dismissed. Hybrid’s are staying, and you aren’t changing that, if you don’t like it, make your own colony.” Phil shouted into the crowd when it started calming down a bit. His eyes burned into the crowd. “I can’t deal with you people.” Shaking his head, he grabbed Techno by the shoulder heading back to their house.

“Phil…” Techno got his oldest friends’ attention. The voices roared in his mind, calling for blood… For a massacre. After everything else that had gone on today… Techno tried keeping his urges at bay, using his friend as a distraction.

“What is it Techno?” Phil couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice. He wasn’t mad at Techno, but at being thrust into this position. Had he not been the one to cause this storm, he would have taken Kristen and his boys and left.

“…That earthquake…” Techno sighed, “It was me.” Phil gave him a puzzled look. “I found her…” Phil knew he was talking about you. “She was with Dream in this tunnel that led from under her house… He almost died. The smell of his blood… I hauled him into her house. But I almost lost control again…” He sucked in a breath, “I needed to get my rage out… So… When I made sure it was okay to go down that tunnel to see what was there, I… Blew it up. It’s nothing but rubble and ash now.”

“So… That earthquake, was you blowing up whatever was on the other side of the tunnel.” Phil had to stop, seeing Techno nod. He couldn’t blame Techno, but… This was going to be hard to explain to a group of humans who don’t like hybrids. Phil sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

“She has a broken leg that didn’t heal right… Niki has to rebreak her leg… So, we’re just lucky there’s enough health potion’s this time…” Techno could hide his emotions through his mask, but Philza knew him too well to know that even through his calm demeanor… Techno was devastated. “I blocked off that tunnel.”

“Good,” Phil swallowed the lump in his throat down. Techno wished it was more of a walk to get to your house, the rage in his blood, had just barely simmered down. But it threatened to bubble back up at the sight of Dream. Dream was resting on the couch, his injuries healed up. Niki had just gone through the process of rebreaking your leg, and now you were force feeding yourself the rest of your golden apple, to help heal your leg in the right position.

Techno hated every bit of this, but at least you were safe now, and that’s all that mattered. He awkwardly stood to the side, watching Niki poke and prod at your injuries. You were going to be sore for a bit, but at least you would be okay in a few more hours. He crossed his arms over his chest, remembering the man’s words against you… Calling you a pig fucker… He bit his lip and he kneeled by your side when you had fallen asleep. His eyes studying your features. He was here for you now, and he would be here for you always.

His hand found your cheek, you were out like a light. Even now when you lay still, you were beautiful, making his heart flutter. He leaned down pressing his lips to your forehead, thanking the blood god that you were okay. He was going to have to have a talk with Dream, and it was not going to be a good one.

#mcyt x reader #technoblade x reader #c!techno x reader #technoblade/reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #through fire and ice #angst #dream mcyt

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seek-its-opposite · 4 years

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photosensitivity | wc: 2156 | ao3

prompt from @catarinquar 65. "look at me—just breathe, okay?”

post-demons. warning: some references to suicidal ideation

*****

Twelve hours after almost shooting his partner, Fox Mulder is released from the hospital in satisfactory health. His partner, whose health is decidedly unsatisfactory, is entrusted with his care. As she signs her name at the bottom of the release form she avoids eye contact with the nurses, half convinced that if they look at her they won’t let her leave. Lately she’s been thinking of howlers.

Scully, silent and reckless, drives them both two hours out of Rhode Island before stopping at a motel on the Connecticut-New York state line. The clouds are threatening what looks to be a hell of a mid-afternoon storm, and she doesn’t want to be on the road with him when it hits. She leaves her rumpled partner in the car with the window cracked while she goes to the front desk, glancing back possessively over her shoulder as the woman behind the counter gets their keys. One room, two beds. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, Mulder.”

She keeps seeing him like she found him, on his knees before the ghosts of his childhood. She sees him praying to the barrel of his gun.

By the time the rain slaps the window Mulder is lying stiff as a board on top of the cheap comforter, hands flat at his side. Scully, doing a poor job at concentrating on the dog-eared copy of Into the Wild she stole from his apartment, eyes him from the corner. The lamp beside her flickers and hums. Lightning flares through the blinds, cutting Mulder in half diagonally like a Vegas magician.

Extreme photosensitivity, the doctor had said, scrawling notes for her on things to look out for. She looks for curtains to close and finds none.

“Shit,” she mutters.

“Scully?” Mulder squints at her from the bed.

“Just the storm.”

He closes his eyes again. “Hey, Scully, if April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring?”

She doesn’t even have time to decide whether to indulge him. The next bolt of lightning is close, flashing white-hot outside the window just seconds before the thunder claps. Mulder cries out and grabs his head, sitting up so quickly he slides off the side of the mattress and hits the floor with a crash.

“Mulder!”

He’s unresponsive when she reaches him, flat on his back and glassy eyed on the carpet. Scully crouches at his side.

“Mulder,” she prompts, more measured this time. “Can you hear me?”

She feels his pulse racing in his neck and moves her other hand to his chest, spreading her palm across his stupid, hot-blooded heart. After a second Mulder blinks and focuses on her. He winces and sits up, letting out a long breath.

“Easy,” Scully warns. She grabs his shoulder and guides him, gently, so he’s facing her, sitting against the side of the bed with his left knee at his chest. He slumps back, his arm lolling across his knee.

“I saw my mom,” he says. His voice is rough. “With the cancer man.”

“You have no way of knowing if that’s true.”

“I have no way of knowing if it’s a memory,” he counters. “I know it’s true.”

He leans his head back against the comforter and shuts his eyes.

Scully rests her hand on Mulder’s forehead, her pinkie in his hair and her thumb stroking his brow. His hairline is sweaty. “Mulder, the lightning isn’t good for you,” she murmurs. “It’s triggering your seizures.”

Mulder huffs out a laugh. She wonders what he sees behind those eyelids. “Maybe if you show the storm your badge,” he suggests.

She almost smiles. “I’ll do that.”

The room lights up again. She has to get him out of here. Scully pushes herself off the floor, patting Mulder’s leg as she stands. He looks up at her. “I was kidding,” he says.

“I’ll be right back.”

The bathroom has no window. It’s short on floor space, but if she folds a towel for him to sit in front of the bathtub here, folds another in front of the sink here—with the door closed it should work. There’s a shell-shaped night light plugged into the outlet; she flips the switch and the room glows faint pink, so warm and sweet she’s overcome with love with it for a second. Dana, look at you, she thinks. You can’t tell the difference between a panic room and a home.

“Come here,” she says to Mulder, and holds out her hand. She pulls him to his feet.

When he sees the bathroom he says, “I didn’t realize we checked into the Ritz.”

She replies, “I used your card.”

They sit on worn towels in their socks with their knees touching. In the shadows she can almost trick herself into thinking they’re on a stakeout.

“You don’t have to stay in here,” he tells her, trying to sound casual. “If anything happens I’ll just scream in agony.” He doesn’t pull off the joke.

“I’m good,” she soothes.

He called her in the middle of the night with blood down his shirt and she came to find him. It’s been too late to leave for years.

“Scully—” Mulder pauses.

She waits.

“That was the third time I’ve aimed my gun at you.”

“I wasn’t keeping track,” she replies. A lie. “How’s this lighting for you? Is this better?”

“Scully.”

“No. I’m not going to do this right now.”

“Do what?” he pleads.

“Make this about your guilt. We’ve both aimed our weapons at each other. God, Mulder.” She gestures at his shoulder. “I shot you.”

She shot him is the tamest way to put it. She shot him so he wouldn’t spend his life in jail. She drugged him and drove him across the country, slept in rest stop parking lots at dawn, wet an old washcloth with the melting ice water from the bottom of her cooler and draped it across his forehead. She never talks about that part. She understands that they are each tallying up the wrong score, that when they look at themselves they see the ways they hurt each other as more legitimate than the ways they heal. In their pact to trust each other they count only the breaches of contract.

It’s been scaring her lately to think of what legacy she might leave with him. To think he could get it so wrong. It makes her furious.

“You want me to tell you I think you were reckless and stupid?” she continues. “I do! You put a hole in your head. But we both know that’s not what you feel bad about.”

Thunder rumbles muted above their heads.

“I had to know,” Mulder insists.

“You could have killed yourself, Mulder.” She’s angry now, properly. Her ribs feel like they’re trying to break out of her body. “Do I mean that little to you?”

His lips part, like one of his fish.

“I need you,” Scully sniffs. Her voice is very small.

Mulder reaches out and touches her shin with just his fingertips. She shudders.

“I’m here,” he says.

“Then listen to me.” She takes a breath, steadies herself. “Stop punishing yourself like it’ll make me better. I never asked for your penance.”

“You don’t ask for anything.” He sounds almost bewildered.

“I do,” she says bitterly. She thinks, You just haven’t noticed.

She can’t believe she thought it was him showing up at her door on a Friday night with a bottle of wine. Desire makes her foolish; it has since she was a girl.

At this point—because their lives are a divine joke—they’re rudely interrupted. In the low light Scully tastes the warm blood on her upper lip before Mulder can see it. A nosebleed. Fuck. Now? She cups her palm beneath her nose and lunges for the sink, leaning over it, knuckles white around the counter.

“Oh, Scully,” Mulder sighs. He stands.

“I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

It’s really not, considering. She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes stock of her body. There’s a dim ache in her head, a low throbbing just between her eyes. Her neck is stiff. Her limbs are sore; her ankles will probably be bruised tomorrow from sitting on the tile, even with socks on. She bruises so easily now, her soft, bad-apple skin. She’ll need a full night of sleep tonight. She should eat something that doesn’t come from a vending machine, but that might be pushing it.

Mulder reaches for the toilet paper, and she holds up her hand to stop him.

“Give it a minute,” she says. Over time she’s learned it’s easier to just bend over the sink or the toilet and wait it out until it slows down. Her blood stains the ceramic basin food-coloring red.

Mulder hovers at her shoulder, so charged with anxious energy she can almost hear him worrying. She’s his little watched pot; it’s like he thinks if he stays close, she can never boil over.

“Mulder, I’m in here to take care of you,” Scully sighs, and even though she doesn’t mean it as anything close to a joke, she finds it suddenly funny. What a pair. She laughs a weak, wet laugh and wipes a tear from her eye.

He chuckles. “We can take turns.”

Without looking up at him, she orders, “Sit down, Mulder.”

He sits on the closed toilet, nervous hands clasped between his spread-wide knees.

After a while her nose stops bleeding. Scully accepts one wad of toilet paper from Mulder to wipe down the sink and a few squares to bunch in her hand, just in case. As she’s washing up she notices the way her palm, the one she held up to him earlier, is smudged at its center with dried blood. She thinks of Stevenson’s Black Spot, of Shirley Jackson’s, and wonders if Mulder is getting the picture yet: Dana Scully, marked for death.

What she does not think of is the stigmata. She hasn’t had much time lately for resurrection.

She sits back down on the floor, this time taking the towel at Mulder’s feet, and leans against the wall—looking up at him now, as usual. The right half of his face glows night-light pink; the left is dark. She stares into the chiaroscuro contours of his silhouette and knows that for better or for worse he’ll get the last of her. He can’t die when she does; he can’t. She fiddles with the toilet paper in her hand.

“You know I don’t blame you for this,” she says quietly. Her mouth tastes like iron. “You’re disrespecting me if you blame yourself.”

Mulder shakes his head. “Scully, you’ve given me four years of your life.” His voice catches on something he doesn’t say. “After everything you’ve done for me, for Samantha—you deserve the truth as much as I do.”

No. He did this in her name? “Mulder.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You should know her, Scully. You should’ve known her.”

She, leaning forward too, clasps her hands too hard around his palms. “I know you,” she says fiercely.

Mulder, at a loss, shuts his eyes and sobs without tears. His chin drops toward his chest, shoulders heaving.

Scully shifts on the towel so she’s on her knees, pushing herself up to meet him. She puts a finger underneath his chin and guides his face up to look into hers. His eyes are dry when he opens them, but his breathing is ragged.

This desperate, passionate thing between them scares her. She swallows the bitter taste on her tongue.

“Hey, look at me,” she urges. “Just breathe, okay?”

He breathes. She cups his cheek.

“I do not accept answers like that,” she insists. This, too, is an order. He nods, dazed.

She sees him kneeling before sun-faded photos of a smiling little sister and two cold New England parents. He was raised to be sacrificed to a cause and he’s been trying ever since.

Thunder rolls in the distance. Scully puts her hands on Mulder’s knees. Her head throbs.

“Tell me something about Samantha I don’t know,” she says. She sits back on her heels.

Mulder pauses and takes another uneven breath. He smiles gingerly. “She loved doing cartwheels,” he says. “She was always crashing into the couch when it was too cold for her to do them outside. There just wasn’t room. She always thought this time there would be enough room.” His eyes start to well up.

“After Sam broke her collarbone she couldn’t do cartwheels for months, so she taught me how to do them out in the yard. She was like a drill sergeant." He laughs through his nose. "It was fall, and she made me clear the leaves like a runway.”

He’s crying now. Mulder runs a hand over his mouth and sits back. He looks at Scully, ruined.

“Do you think he’s her father too?”

#txf #msr #my fic #demons #cancer arc #catarinquar #thanks for the prompt!!#finally putting my lifetime of nosebleed experience to use

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meadowmood · 3 years

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Ramdula’s Visitor

This the first short story upload I will be doing for all of the work I did for my senior show centering around my own stories and characters. If you would like to view the entire exhibition now, click this link! It includes a number of short stories, illustrations, and character bios for your viewing pleasure!

Read the story below the cut!

(content warning for themes of death, self harm, and suicide) A heavy feeling sunk deep into Beau’s bones that evening. She was sitting on the old woven chair outside of her home, wearing only a thin blouse and trousers. The air was warm, broken only so often by a cool breeze blowing across the meadow in which her home sat. What little light there was began to wane, and faint twinkles of stars began to peek their way into the sky as it darkened....

It was a beautiful night, but Beau was aware of none of it. Not the sky, not the breeze, and not the stars.

Her eyes were glassy and seemed to stare at something non-existent. She had come outside to ground herself, to feel something beside the numbness that consumed her mind and body. instead she felt nothing. She sighed as she sat and stared out into the meadow, the only thing she could hear were the thoughts in her head. She was exhausted by her own mind.

Why did something she couldn’t live without have to be so loud?

It’s been so quiet in the house since Mara died, she thought. Mara had been her closest friend who lived in the house with her. Like so many times before, her mind flashed back to her death. They had been in the university lab cleaning up after class, chatting casually as they swept the floor and wiped down tables when a sudden large flash of light and a tremendous crash rang out. Beau fell flat on the ground under the force of the blast, suffering a few cuts and bruises, but when the smoke cleared and Beau came to, she was still alive and relatively unharmed.

Mara was lying completely still, a single pipe running through her stomach. Dead.

Beau clutched her stomach instinctively as she remembered the sight. Apparently a student had failed to store a number of potions properly, and the resulting mix of chemicals and spells had been enough to cause an explosion. Thankfully no one else had been hurt.

No one except Mara.

Since then, Beau had dropped out of university. She didn’t wait to see how the school would bend over backwards to make it all okay, to pretend it never happened. She just wanted to go home. Except home was empty, and full of Mara’s things and memories of their life together. The life they should have had together. She held back tears as the wounds opened themselves anew and she felt rage within her at how unfair it all was. Why Mara? Why did her Mara have to be taken from her?

She had the sudden intense desire for numbness, for peace from her emotions. She couldn’t go back inside, nothing but hurt lay in there.

She stared up at the meadow and her eyes landed on the forest that lay beyond it. She had never ventured into that forest herself, but people said that a reclusive spirit resided there, and Mara had always told her to be wary of it as the spirit could be malevolent. But Mara wasn’t here anymore, and whatever was in that forest might hurt her, hurt her enough that it would take all of the thoughts away, all of the pain. It would be quick, and she wouldn’t have to live in a home without Mara anymore. She wouldn’t have to live at all.

Before she could consider anything else she was running, the air growing colder as she neared the forest, the biting chill barely registering as she ascended the hill toward the trees. As Beau reached the treeline, breathing heavily from the run, she stared up at the massive pines, and before she could bear to give it a second thought, she ran straight into the trees.

Beau ran frantically through the forest making a tremendous amount of noise, breaking twigs and cracking dry leaves. Eventually she found herself making her way down a hill, its steep incline covered in wet moss and slippery stone. The slope caught her by surprise, causing her to fall onto her hands and knees. She yelled out in pain as she hit the forest floor, her skin stinging from the rough ground. She bit back tears as she held up her shaking hands, now covered in small cuts and debris. Before she could try and stand up she heard the footsteps of something large and heavy approaching. She turned to see a huge black dog. It was ginormous, easily meeting her eyes as she kneeled. Its long silky fur and pointed ears almost making it look like a grounded bat. Beau screamed and held up her hands in front of her, her body turning numb as fear washed over her. The dog stood still, and as she let her gaze wander from its piercing stare she noticed a great number of dogs behind it, standing just as still as their leader.

Beau broke the silence “KILL ME THEN!!” she screamed, waiting for it to attack. The dog simply stared back at her and tilted it’s head, as though it was trying to understand her. “DO IT!” she shrieked, almost pleading for the stupid beast to do something. “Go on! KILL ME!”

The dog walked closer to her and opened its mouth, its teeth white and menacing in the evening light. She flinched, waiting for the pain of the bite to come, but instead it grabbed onto her blouse. Beau put her hands down, confused, as the dog gently pulled on her shirt. A moment later she felt the other dogs behind her prodding her back, pushing her forward as the lead dog continued to tug on her shirt. She shakily got herself to her feet and began walking as the dogs continued to pull her, shuffling noisily as they guided her farther into the woods.

Where are they taking me?

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As the sky darkened and the air chilled, Matthias stirred. He raised his head among the sea of black fur of his packmates and pricked his ears up at the sound of his master stirring in the floors above him. He jumped up and yipped at his pack to get up. The dogs all sleepily got to their feet, noisily ascending the stairs from the basement toward the castle throne room. They met her in the hall at the top of the stairs, Matthias running to his master’s side as she walked the boisterous pack down the hall. He kept pace with her as he stared up at her face. She was somber, as usual. Matthias tried to picture with difficulty the last time she looked truly happy. She made a noise and motioned toward the front of the castle. Matthias knew this to mean she wanted him to patrol the grounds. He barked and led his pack out of the castle, across the drawbridge and into the dark forest.

As they reached the edges of the territory Matthias pushed his snout to the ground, forcing a myriad of smells into his nostrils. Images of running deer, rabbits, squirrels, and songbirds all flashed in his mind as he patrolled the outer edges of the grounds. His large black paws produced deep impressions in the soft soil as he padded along, the rest of his pack following close behind. They kept their ears pricked and tails held high, ready to alert their master of any intruders. The forest air was cool and quiet, the crisp air felt good on his thick coat, energizing him as he led his pack around the forest’s perimeter.

The silence suddenly broke as a twig cracked in the distance and the sound of something making its way into the forest shot through Matthias’s ears. Crackling underbrush, heavy breathing, and panicked footsteps tip-toed their way into his mind as he located the figure. He signaled for his pack to remain quiet. Together they walked low to the ground toward the mysterious visitor. As they approached he could see them more clearly. They were a small creature, running on two legs and heading toward the castle. He titled his head, observing them struggle and stumble through the dense underwood of the forest. They didn’t seem to know where they were going, and they certainly didn’t seem dangerous. Suddenly the creature tripped and let out a yelp as they fell forward. Matthias ran to the noise, closely followed by his fellow dogs toward the fallen figure. As he neared them he slowed his pace and approached them carefully, unsure of what to do until they turned suddenly and faced him, letting out another yell. He held still, taking in everything he could see of the figure in front of him. They appeared frightened, eyes wide and fearful as they held their hands in front of their face, ready to defend themselves. This was not a dangerous intruder, he concluded.

The creature suddenly let out a sound, a garbled noise he found hard to understand. They were not speaking an animal language. He stood up straight and tilted his head, trying to at least make out a command or a familiar word. The figure repeated themselves, louder and more desperately this time, and he almost winced at the intensity of their cry. The noises were similar to his master’s, and he wondered if she could possibly understand the visitor.

He walked forward slowly and opened his jaws, the figure flinching as they expected to be bitten. He instead clasped the cloth that decorated them and pulled them forward. His pack realized what he was doing and did the same, some gently pushing on her back encouraging them to move forward while the others began to bark and yip as they walked ahead. The figure stood up shakily, and with the dog’s gentle motivation they made their way to the castle. The creature was slow, and shook as they walked, but with a good bit of gentle pushing and encouragement Matthias was soon able to see the silhouette of the castle peeking over the trees. He ran ahead and let out a deep, haunting howl. As he did, a heavy clanking rang out into the night as a drawbridge lowered itself over a wide moat surrounding the building. He turned and called back to his pack, who excitedly pulled the visitor into the castle, anticipating meeting their master.

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Ramdula walked solemnly through the halls of her castle, tightly gripping the hilt of her sword as her large group of black dogs padded happily behind her. She entered the throne room and sighed deeply. She was barely awake and it was only early evening.

“Matthias,” she called to her lead dog, pointing to the front of the castle. “Begin your nightly patrols. I am heading to the library.” The dogs perked up at the command and headed to the castle gate, barking excitedly as they thundered across the drawbridge into the trees.

Ramdula watched them go and drew the drawbridge up again with a wave of her hand, heading toward the other end of the room and through a large archway. After making her way down a dark spiral staircase she entered the library, a huge, airy, and circular room residing in the underground beneath the castle. The air was cold and dry as she scanned the dark wooden shelves, flickering fireflies illuminating Ramdula’s path down the corridors, flittering soundlessly around her head. The library was like a maze only she knew how to navigate, the endless twisting rows filled to the brim with books, journals, and manuscripts. Sitting in between these shelves were old items of previous residents. Armor of fallen enemies, weapons, garments, and treasures of old all passed her as she looked for something interesting. After 345 years of life, she had just about read everything the library had to offer twice over, and she was immensely bored. With a glazed expression she scanned the shelves she had stared at for centuries, looking for something, anything, that she might have missed, forgotten, or looked over.

Nothing.

Everything was familiar. Everything was uninteresting.

With a heavy sigh she reached for a sizable book with a soft red velvet cover, now faded and worn at the edges. It was a book of local folklore and myths, the stories it told holding a special place in Ramdula’s heart. They were her favorite in her younger years. She flipped through the yellowed pages, recalling every word as they flashed passed her eyes. She tucked the book under her arm, ready to take it somewhere comfortable to read when she heard a howl. It was Matthias wanting to come back in. It didn’t sound like an alarm, perhaps he was looking for something to eat before patrolling. Ramdula rolled her eyes and focused her magic on lowering the drawbridge, walking toward the spiral staircase as she did so in order to climb her way back to the throne room.

As she walked down the hallway and turned the corner around the stone arch, she met a sight she never would have expected, not even if she had lived to be a million years old. A young, teary-eyed, bedraggled looking girl was standing in the middle of her throne room, staring at her like she was on trial for murder. She stood absolutely still for a moment and then looked down at Matthias, who had walked up to her and sat down at her feet, tongue hanging out of his smiling mouth.

“Matthias, dear, what exactly have you dragged into my home?” she sighed, motioning toward the visitor. The black hound simply stared back at her, shifting his feet in excitement. Ramdula sighed again, and peered into his mind to see what happened. Within it she saw him patrolling, the figure running into the forest, their fear, and Matthias desire for understanding.

“Hm.” she said, unamused, and turned to the girl, who went rigid under her gaze.

“Hello…little...person,” she began. “You have mistakenly wandered into my home, I presume, and have been escorted by my familiars who for some reason think,” she glared down at a perfectly unaware Matthias, tongue still lolling from his mouth, “I will have something to say to you besides ‘please leave.’ I am not sure why they have brought you here but you need not stay. Head along home now, no harm done, just…” she waved her hands in a shooing motion at the girl, “get along. Matthias can show you out.”

Ramdula waited for a response, expecting the visitor to appear relieved at her dismissal, but to her unfortunate surprise the girl looked even more upset than before.

“W-what?” she stammered, eyes going wide with shock. “That’s it? you’re not going to kill me?” She began to sniffle, tears began pouring down her face.

“Oh, I feel so stupid, why did I even come here?” The dogs crowded around her and began to whine, licking the tears off of her face as she sunk to her knees.

“I’m s...so sorry I don’t know why I came here,” she cried. “I guess I’ll go now, and go…h-h… ho...” A fresh new flood of tears burst from her eyes as she tried to finish her sentence instead crouching forward and covering her face.

Ramdula stood still, looking especially uncomfortable in the presence of this sobbing creature. She gripped the hilt of her sword in her palm and rubbed it nervously as she pondered how she could rid herself of this small, distressed child without making them even more upset. She had already asked them politely to leave, she was not sure what else she could do about this. She had a sudden intense desire to be back in the library.

“Child, look. Listen please. I am not going to kill you unless you give me a reason to, which you have not done thus far so, um…please don’t cry, you may go back home unharmed,” Ramdula said, stepping a little closer. The girl looked up at her, her eyes swollen and red, she looked quite a mess.

“Well if you’re not going to kill me then I am not sure why I am here. I’m not sure what I’m doing at all,” the girl admitted. Ramdula’s expression went from uncomfortable to confused, her brows furrowing as she tried to understand.

“You came here..to be killed?” she asked the girl, brows furrowed. “By me?”

The girl nodded, and Ramdula tried to think of what in Lun’s name she could be talking about. That was it. She needed this incomprehensible little creature to give her a straight answer this very second.

“Matthias, go fetch the crackers and tea from the basement.” Matthias scampered away as she looked at the rest of the pack. “You, blankets. You, a kettle. And you, cups. We are going to be here a while.” The girl uncovered her face and looked around as the dogs dispersed, scattering down the hallways and descending stairs in search of the items they had been assigned.

“Child, it seems you have a story you need to tell, and you are going to be a right mess until you get it out. So first,” Ramdula said, crossing her long legs as she sat on the floor, “tell me your name.”

The girl wiped her eyes and tried her best to sit up straight. “Beau, Beau Conway” she said quietly.

“Lovely to meet you, Beau Conway. My name is Ramdula, and this is my castle.”

Before long, the dogs all returned with their items (coated in copious amounts of drool), and they had set up quite the cozy atmosphere in the throne room with blankets, hot tea, and crackers. Ramdula conjured a magical fire in between them, and the warmth of the flames breathed new life into the throne room. With a cup of hot tea and several large dogs lying on her lap, Beau explained everything. She told Ramdula about Mara, how she died, and how everything had been tainted by her memory: her home, her school, and even her own mind. She couldn’t escape all of the pain and feelings that surrounded her. She had just wanted it all to stop. The thoughts... the hurt… the memories… she had just wanted to feel numb.

“A-and I saw your forest, and remembered what Mara said, that there might be a malevolent spirit inside, that might hurt me,” she said quietly, “so I ran inside hoping something would end me before I gave it too much thought,” she sobbed, her eyes welling up with tears. “A-and you haven’t hurt me, you’ve been so nice, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have come here and bothered you so much. I’ve just been stupid, I-I’m sorry” she started crying again, and buried her face in her hands. Ramdula looked at her, having remained quiet the entire time Beau had shared her story, and twirled her tea spoon in her cup as she spoke.

“Sometimes, we cannot control where our lives take us. I do not blame you for coming here,” she said, setting her cup on the ground carefully. “However, if you truly are seeking death, then I am sorry. That is something I cannot grant you,” Ramdula said solemnly. She stood up and stretched her huge wings out to their full length before folding them back into their resting position.

“I cannot claim to know exactly what to tell you, Beau Conway. But I can say if your home is a source of pain for you, you may stay here for the night, and decide if you would like to return in the morning.”

Beau lowered her head, still sniffling.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For everything.”

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Beau was led by Ramdula to a spare room, a journey that took them down a myriad of twisting stone hallways. “The dogs can stay with you while I perform my duties for the night.” She looked down at Matthias, a slight smile on her lips as she looked down at him. “You have the night off, lucky dog.”

She bid them all goodnight and disappeared down the hall, heading somewhere unknown. Beau entered the room and saw that it was a plainly decorated stone study with a large bed at the far wall. She crawled under the covers, still a little dazed from that evening's events. As she got herself comfortable, the dogs climbed onto the bed with her and curled up on every inch of the blankets that she didn’t occupy. She started to doze to the sounds of the dog's heavy breathing. Her thoughts unoccupied by grief as she drifted peacefully into a deep slumber.

Before Beau knew it, morning had come, and she awoke in the same place she had fallen asleep. None of it had been a dream, she realized. She sat up, rousing the dogs that were sleeping on the bed with her and rubbed her eyes as she made her way to the door. The dogs, now fully awake, all crowded around her, waiting patiently for the door to be opened. She turned the knob and was nearly pushed out into the hallway by the rush of excitement of the hounds as they ran down the long hall. Matthias stayed behind, nudging her gently in the right direction, and when they reached the throne room Ramdula was nowhere to be found. Matthias put his nose to the floor and barked at Beau to follow him, leading her past the archway down into a spiral staircase.

The dogs thundered down the stairs into the dark underground, Beau following them closely behind. As she reached the bottom the narrow corridor opened into a huge circular room filled with endless rows of shelves, and she found she had come into a huge library. Right in front of her in a massive armchair sat Ramdula, reading a large red book with worn edges.

“Ah,” she said, closing the book and setting it aside, “you are awake.” She stood up to her full height, and for the first time since meeting her Beau realized how tall the spirit was, towering above her by at least several feet. “How was your sleep?” Ramdula asked, leaning down slightly to meet her eye.

“Good!” Beau replied, she reflected momentarily at how well rested she felt, her mind was the clearest it had been in months. “Really good, actually, best I’ve had in awhile. Thank you again for being so kind,” she said gazing into the spirit’s eyes.

“Do not dwell on it, it was nothing at all,” Ramdula replied. She turned around, picking up the red book again. “Do you like to read?” she asked.

“Very much so,” said Beau, admiring the books as she did. “This library is stunning.”

“Yes, it is quite a sight for someone who is unfamiliar with its contents isn’t it?” Ramdula said, sighing deeply. “Unfortunately, I have read every word contained within these walls, so I cannot say I share the same awe you feel now.” She held out the book she grasped in her hand to Beau, allowing her to admire it. “This one I don’t seem to tire of easily. It is a collection of stories you might find enjoyable. I definitely did as a young pup.”

Beau held out her hands and grasped the book tenderly, almost afraid it would turn to dust in her hands. “Wow, thank you,” she murmured, enchanted by the book's intricate gold leaf cover. As she stared at it, an idea crept into her mind “Would you like more? Books that is. I have some at home.”

Ramdula perked her ears up, sporting an unfamiliar expression of child-like excitement. “More books you say? Now that sounds interesting.”

Beau grew more enthusiastic, happy she had piqued the spirit’s interest. ”Yes they are! And I would like to thank you for what you have done for me. I can bring some by tonight, would you want that?”

Ramdula paused, considering the offer. “I would, actually,” she said contemplatively. “I am not very good around regular humans and the like, so I haven't added any new books to the library in centuries. It’s a shame, since it is a tradition of my ancestors to build the knowledge this place holds.” She stared out into rows of shelves before turning back suddenly. “You said you slept exceptionally well last night?” she asked, peering at Beau before continuing. “Let’s say you wanted to sleep here for the foreseeable future. When you did, I wouldn’t mind you bringing me a book in exchange for a night’s rest in the castle...hm?”

Beau’s eyes widened as the proposition sunk in. “You wouldn’t mind?”

Ramdula shook her head. “On the contrary, Beau Conway, you would be doing me a favor in exchange for small effort on my part. I would be delighted if you accepted.”

Beau’s eyes shone with happiness at the idea, a wide smile breaking out across her face. “Yes, YES! I can definitely do that. I will be back tonight with all the books I can carry! Thank you THANK YOU!” she cried. Beau ran back up the stairs, book in hand and ready to head home, this time not dreading what she would see inside.

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Ramdula watched her go chuckling as she disappeared up the stairs. What a peculiar person she was. She had an inkling that the most interesting thing Beau would bring back tonight was herself. She had to admit she didn’t just want the books, though they were quite tempting. She had actually enjoyed talking to someone besides the dogs for once, and to her surprise, looked forward to having company over for dinner.

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Matthias listened to the visitors footsteps slowly fade away up the staircase. He was happy to see they weren’t afraid anymore. He stared up at his master’s face, and for the first time in a long time, he saw content in her eyes.

#writing #short story #original characters #This is Ramdula!!#Also known as my personal favorite character :)#Really hope you guys like the story!!!#also make sure you read the stuff I uploaded yesterday to make sure you aren't confused on what's happening

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 9

<- Chapter 8 | Chapter 10 ->

@sexy-opium-ravioli asked me to write a comfort Frankenstein fic so instead I did this [stares at the camera]

cw: suicidal ideation

Heavy raindrops pound on the wood-shingle roof, each impact combining into a chorus that roars in your ears in the pitch-black darkness. It’s like you’re being swallowed by a great beast. The entire building creaks, straining against the wind, making your heart race with the fear that it might all come crashing down on top of you as you lay clutching the covers in bed.

A deafening crack and blinding surge of light is followed shortly by a second, earthier crack and a dull thud on grass. Lightning hit one of the trees in the pasture.

In the middle of this raging tempest through which no living being could survive, there comes a scratch at your shutter. The curtains flutter as wind suddenly swirls inside, and the roar of rain grows louder. Something is coming into your bedroom.

Another flash of lightning reveals the silhouette of a massive figure, drenched and dripping, standing in front of the window. The blast of thunder that shortly follows makes the enormous figure jump, and rush, trembling like a kitten, to your bedside.

You take his deformed and scarred hand in yours, and squeeze it.

“I do not like thunder,” his grave voice whispers through gasping, timid breaths. Your beautiful, sweet creature. You never want anything to hurt him. An aching sadness washes over you anew, quivering your lower lip.

He notices you are shaking, frantic, frazzled, and puffy-eyed. He doesn’t look much better.

“When you did not come, I feared for you.” He licks his lips nervously. “I ascertained that you were within the house, but were under guard, and I could not reach you. Please tell me you are unharmed—if anything has happened to you, I shall not forgive my cowardice.”

Without warning, a sob chokes you, and hot tears roll down your face. The monster, filling up half your small cottage bedroom, doffs his wet cloak and pulls your crying form against his warm, broad chest like an extension of the furniture and holds you, rubbing your back and cooing soft words of comfort. You hide your face against him, trying to disappear as muffled sobs wrack your shoulders.

“What is wrong?” he asks with a voice so fragile from your silence that the answer might break him.

“Just let me hold you for awhile. Please.”

You feel him shudder against you, and surround you in his warm arms like a cocoon. It’s a long time before you can collect yourself enough to tell him what happened.

*****

“Like hell we are!” you snapped impulsively as soon as Ferdinand announced your “engagement.” Your fists clenched into tight balls of righteous fury. He was delusional. You were leaving.

Then your father stared at you—that dark, severe stare that threatened violence if you did not behave. “Mind your tongue, child!” he snapped, and your tongue stopped moving, and all of the smart words that had been on the tip of it just disappeared. It was so strange. You had been frightened to run, terrified, but you were ready. Just like that, all the oxygen seemed to drain from the room as Ferdinand, your father, and your mother surrounded you, reminding you of your place in the world and how helpless you were in it.

Your fiery ember dropped into a bucket of water.

You sat in the living room, trapped like a rabbit in a snare, crawling inside your own skin as reality washed over you. They laid out the situation. There were rumors around town—serious ones—that you’ve been consorting with the devil. Half the village thought you were a witch. It wouldn’t be long before something terrible came of it, but Ferdinand had graciously offered to make you his wife, and in doing so, put the rumors to bed. So you would marry him. He was well-liked among the superstitious factions, and could get them to leave you alone if he made you an honest woman. (You growled at the implications of that particular phrase.)

Ferdinand sneered with self-satisfaction, his voice dripping with honey as he said how much he worried for you.

They were pressing you into the marriage and would hear no arguments, no back-talk. They suspected you might run, and wouldn’t let you out of their sight—your mother, your father, and Ferdinand.

You were prey. There was nothing you could do to fight.

The sky grew ever darker and more ominous with each passing minute you spent ensnared, until you knew you had missed the rendezvous time. Your heart twisted—if your daemon were wise, he had left already without you. Thinking of the alternative—that he had stayed, and would be discovered—your chest twisted even tighter. Marrying Ferdinand was a get-out-of-jail-free card for you, but the creature’s life was in irrevocable mortal jeopardy.

“You can’t force me to marry him!” you whimpered to your mother, praying for a sympathetic ear when you were left alone with her for a moment. She was horrible, but she was a woman. She must understand, at least a little, what they were doing to you.

She patted you softly on the shoulder, but her eyes stayed hard. “Your grandmother remembered when they burned a witch right in the center of town. Believe me, this gossip is not something to take lightly. Making you a proper wife is the only way to make people see that you are a normal girl. If you do not, then you shall no longer be our daughter, and we cannot protect you from whatever shall happen next.”

You tried to speak, but your tongue was dry. You kept trying to swallow the dryness away, but it stuck in your throat. You wanted to rage, to scream against them, to be on fire, but your blood had all turned to ice.

This was happening, and there was nothing you could do but accept it.

*****

The creature strokes your cheek gently, his sympathetic and sorrowful yellow eyes glistening in the erratic flashes of light from the storm. “I am sorry I could not protect you. I am here now; let us depart under the cloak of night.”

Your head shakes in tense arcs before you decide to make them, your throat closing up. “You don’t understand—I can’t.”

The dark shadow shaped like his body becomes a tense, rigid statue. “What do you mean?” he says, cautiously.

“I can’t!” you repeat, as if he’s the one not making sense and your feelings should need no explanation, but you explain anyway, the words gushing out like a flooded river. “Maybe I wanted to, I thought I could, but it isn’t realistic. Look at the storm outside! I can’t run away in the middle of this—it frightens even you, doesn’t it? You couldn’t protect me should a thunderbolt strike me on the head! What will we do during weather such as this without any shelter? With my family monitoring me like a prisoner, I could not even finish packing—I haven’t the food and water to survive a week away from home! Where could we go, anyway? You cannot guarantee Victor Frankenstein will take us in! He may just as likely kill us! They think me a witch here, where everyone has known me since I was a baby. I will be a witch in the next town. We will be pariahs wherever we go.”

You wished he would yell, that he would argue, or be consumed in a fit of emotion—that would be better somehow—instead, he listens to your fearful list of excuses silently, with no reaction but his shoulders slowly falling and a soft, pained growl deep in his throat.

“D-don’t you see?” you explain frantically as if he had been arguing back. “We don’t need to run. They never spoke of you as more than rumor—those hunters, and Bess, they must not have been believed as any more than superstition. Every town has its ghost stories. There is no bloodthirsty mob, so long as I marry him. We can stay here and keep you hidden. We’ll be safe.”

“Safe?” he growls, but only softly and without malice. He can no longer bear to listen quietly. “You wish to marry him?” You hoped he would be angry, but his voice is a wavering medley of betrayal and confusion, and the pang it leaves in your heart is almost too much to bear.

“Of course not, but I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do. Run away with me tonight.” An angry bolt of lightning splintered another tree out in the pasture, making you both jump, and providing the counterpoint to his argument for you. “Tell me you want to marry him,” he reaches out with a large hand that could cover your entire head, and delicately strokes your cheek. His eyes glisten with longing. “Tell me you want this and I will go. I shall live the rest of my life a miserable wretch, but I shall bear it, knowing you are happy.”

“Y-you once told me you wouldn’t care if I was with other men, so long as I came back to you. Maybe we could…”

That finally gets a rise out of him. “We could what?” he snaps, cutting you off. “You desire to marry another, and keep me hidden away in a barn—a filthy secret for you to visit at your leisure—to make love to when you are not sharing a bed with your husband? Is that… what you want?” The energy and indignation he had begun with fades away to a lame sort of helplessness by the end.

You know how pathetic you sound. How weak. It was the last thing you expected of yourself, too. You had always walked to your own beat, never fit in, and never cared what anyone thought of you—at least not enough to change for their benefit. You always dreamed of running away one day.

But you hadn’t.

No matter how much you had dreamed it—and even one exhilarating day had packed a bag and chased an eight-foot monster into the forest, convinced that you might run away with him—you never actually did. So many years waiting in misery, and all of that time you could have run.

But you wouldn’t. The moment the fantasy began to crystallize into reality, you froze with terror. You never would.

You only wish you had realized this before hurting him. Your precious daemon stares back at you expectantly, fiercely blinking his watery yellow eyes to fight off tears he won’t let fall in front of you. He’s waiting for you to assure him that this is a mistake—that he’s more to you than a sexual pet—and your heart twists with shame.

“Here is bad, but here is safe. It’s that kind of bad that’s all I’ve ever known. That sharp, snow-covered peak you can see from the barn has stood there, unchanging since I was born. It was there watching over our valley before my parents were born. The alpine winds have shaped it for thousands of years, since before the great pyramids of Egypt. Maybe I am like that mountain. Maybe I can never change, no matter how much I want to.”

It’s not the answer he hoped for. His jaw clenches. He had come here thinking you were running away together at last, and finally, finally, the weight of what is happening sinks in. You watch as the hope goes out of his eyes. Lightning flashes behind him, a little more distantly now. His throat bobs as he swallows.

“Please don’t look away,” you sob, begging. Something inside you is breaking with him.

Footsteps creak on the stairs and the faint orange glow of a candle filters under the door. “Are you talking to someone in there?” demands your mother’s shrill voice just as the door to your bedroom swings open. Your mother gasps in horror.

“You’ve left the window open, you fool child!” She clucks disapprovingly and rushes to shut it, closing the drenched curtains over it once it is latched tight. The shadow of the creature is gone. “What were you thinking? Of running away?” she snaps.

Yes, you want to scream. You hate her. Pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, and you wish you had disappeared into the night, too, for a vengeful bolt of lightning to release you from your misery.

Then she does something that surprises you. She sighs, and sits at the edge of your bed, her weight making a sinkhole on the straw-filled mattress. “My baby girl, you’re crying. They say it isn’t right for a bride to cry on her wedding night, but we know better.” She smiles sadly and wipes a tear from your cheek. “I wanted to run away, too,” she says quietly. Her gaze drifts over the window thoughtfully, like she was imagining a different life. In the flickering candlelight, you wonder if she could almost see it, that other life. You wonder what it was. “But if I had, where would you be?!” Her voice is back to an accusing, judgment-laden shrill. “I’ve tried so hard with you, to get you to grow up. You finally came to your senses—you’re not a child anymore, you can’t just do whatever you want. Life isn't a fairy tale. Life isn’t about being happy… it’s about doing what you have to do. Don’t disappoint me.”

When she leaves and returns downstairs, you give a cursory but hopeful search under the bed and in the corners and shadows for the creature, but he is gone. You had seen him disappear into the loft at the slightest sound of footsteps dozens of times, and you know he had fled out the window and is miles away by now. You wonder if he had returned to the barn, but you know in your heart that he’s gone. It’s already too late. You saw the way he had looked at you before your mother interrupted. Betrayed. Wounded. Finished.

He must hate you.

You throw open the shutters again and look out on the dark, windswept landscape. Heavy, cold rain pummels your face, soaking your night dress instantly and making your squint and shiver against it. There is no sign of him, though above the howling of the wind, you imagine that you hear him howling, desperate and anguished. You could jump from here, you think. You could lash together your bed sheets and climb down undetected, and—

A bolt of lightning strikes a tree in front of the house and it explodes to splinters as a cataclysm of thunder bursts open your ears. The blinding-white flash fills your room and your senses, sets all your hairs standing on end, and for several moments after you can’t see or hear a thing. Am I alive? you wonder first. Is he scared? you worry a second later. When your eyes finally adjust to the dark again, you can see the smoldering embers of the destroyed trunk, its crown lying in pieces on the ground. One branch had scarcely missed the roof, and had you jumped from your window a moment before, you certainly would have been hit.

If only you had been, a part of you screams against your skull. It’s the only way out, now. Jump from the window! it insisted, its voice weaving harsh fingers of smoke through your mind. Run, slipping in the wet grass with your ankle broken into the night and find him, or be eaten by a bear. Let a branch fall and crush your pathetic body. Let the lightning take you to Hell.

You close the shutter, and latch it.

Shaking, you return to your bed and lay on top of the covers. The depression in the mattress from your mother is still flattening out. Wet spots on the blanket are the only memento of the creature’s visit. You remember what it felt like to be held, warm and safe in his arms just moments ago, and try to tuck the memory away somewhere it will never be lost. Somewhere you can look back at it in the years to come. You’ll never feel that way again.

It would be a mistake to run.

You're making the right choice.

You don’t want to die. Surviving means doing what you have to do.

You're making the right choice.

You repeat it to yourself over and over, shivering alone on top of your bed until the black sky turns to grey, and the birds start to sing a summer chorus—first one melodic song, then a jarring metallic buzz, a repetitive whistle, and more and more add their voices until it swells into a cacophony in the purple dawn. The storm must have passed some time in the night without your noticing. It doesn’t matter. You made your choice and broke your own wings.

You made the right choice.

#frankenstein #Frankenstein's Monster #monster x reader #the creature x reader #monster x human #my writing #lo siento por esto XD #I hope I don't make you wait another 4 months for an update >_>

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dididrawsblog · 5 years

Text

Mr. Perfect // slow burn

Part I

Summary: Steve Harrington was the coolest guy at school and now he’s working with you at the rental store. Very complicated story about complicated feelings.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warning: language, very slow burn

A/N: I’m pretty sure I’ll write smut later.

On the second month of summer you decided you need a job. You really wanted to buy a car and your parents said you’re old enough to earn money by yourself. By the way, most of your friends had already worked somewhere. Fortunately, your uncle had some connections with the film rental store manager so you got a job without any troubles. Also, you were glad you didn’t have an interview.

You were standing in front of an old building with the sign ‘Family video’, waiting for a miracle. There were a couple of cars in the parking lot with a fat red cat lying on the top of the black one and an old lady smoking near the entrance. It didn’t look like a place for your dream job but you had no choice. You walked into the shop and came to the girl in a uniform standing near a movie stand.

“Hey. Umm.. I’m Y/N. It’s my first day and your boss told me you can show me everything here” It was awkward. The blue-eyed girl looked at you for a second and then shook your hand.

“Right, I’m Robin. Come with me I’ll give you your form. It’s just a blue t-shirt, actually”

She led you to a small storage room. There were a tiny yellow table, two chairs, shelves with shirts and old tapes and four lockers. Robin stood up on a chair, took a t-shirt and threw it to you.

“You can change here. We usually have lunch in this room while having a break. You’ll have two or three breaks during the day. Depends on how many hours you work. This is the key from your locker” Robin handed you a key from the small box on a shelf. “It’s number 3, leave your clothes in it. I need to get back to work. Find me when you’re done here”

You took your shirt off putting on the blue one but turned out it was too small for you. You looked at the size and yeah it was ‘S’. Fuck. Okay, you just took it off and stood up on the chair looking for the right size on a shelf.

“L, XL, L, XXL...” You murmured while looking through the stacks of t-shirts.

“Nice view” There was a male voice behind you, you shivered. You turned around quickly then you understood you were standing without shirt just in your bra and turned again screaming.

“GET OUT” You closed your eyes because of shame. Your cheeks were burning red and you screamed again. “OUT!”

“Jeeesus. Okay, okay, fine. I closed my eyes. Let me just put my bag over here and I’ll leave”

You turned your head and saw Steve Harrington trying to put his bag on the table with closed eyes. No, Lord, why him? Out of all the people in the town...why Harrington? It’s not like you hated him. You just knew he’s an asshole. He annoyed you since the beginning of your high school days. He bullied Jonathan and sometimes other “weirdos”. Every girl had a crush on him except you of course. Mr. Perfect, Mr. Cool, the King...Just a douchebag.

When you woke up from your thoughts he was already gone. And you were out of time so you decided to wear ‘L’ size and get back to Robin. You actually liked wearing oversize shirts. You felt more...confident? Steve smiled at you from the counter as you walked passed him. He does work here. You found blu-eyed girl near the thriller movie stand and she told you about you work hours and shifts.

“Today you are working with me and the dingus” she told you while placing a pack of new films on a shelf.

“Dingus? You mean Steve?”

“Yeah, but i call him ‘dingus’” she smiled with a corner of her mouth and glanced at him. “I know he might look cool and mean and all that but he’s not”

“I know he’s not cool” it came out a bit harsh and you just looked away from Robin. You felt tensed today.

“He’s not that bad” she said after a minute. You looked at Steve flirting with a girl while brushing his hair with a hand. The girl smiled... and she definitely gave him her number. “Your task for today is just to sort all the movies from the boxes. If you have any questions you can ask me”

You picked up a big box full of horrors, romcoms, thrillers and... God it’s heavy. Right, so you were taking some films from the box and putting them on the right shelves. It was...well, boring but you noted some films you wanted to watch. ‘Jawls’, ‘Sixteen candles’ maybe. Robin and Steve were talking and laughing, they seemed like good friends. You were a little bit jealous. You wished you had some real friends. The one you could watch films with. You picked the last tape from the first box and tried to put it on the top shelf but you weren’t tall enough. You couldn’t reach it.

“Hey, need some help?” Steve’s voice behind you. Again. He was leaning on the wall with crossed hands and the smile you couldn’t stand.

“No” you didn’t even look at him, just kept trying and jumping as high as you can. A minute later he just grabbed the movie from your hand and placed it by himself. “I don’t need your help, Harrington”

“Yeah, you’re welcome”

“No, Steve, you don’t get it. I don’t need your help. I don’t wanna talk to you or interact with you in any possible way. I don’t like you. I know you enough and I don’t want to get to know you better. So, please, let’s pretend we don’t exist in each other’s universes. There’s no Steve Harrington in mine and no Y/N Y/L/N in yours, okay?” You breathed out as you looked at his concerned face and a sudden compassion hit you with a wave.

“Um.. okay. In case of emergency call Robin. I’ll be... you know.. in my universe” He rubbed his back awkwardly and walked away.

You`d finished the last three boxes walking down the hall with a chair in your hand. Robin said you can take a break after you`ve done with the assignment. You were tired and hungry and felt like shit. It`s probably because of Steve. Even though you have your reasons to push him away he wouldn`t known them. He obviously didn`t remember you from the high school. Why would he? Because you`d been standing close to her when they broke up? Because when she`d slapped him and left you were the one who stayed to pick her bag from the ground? And you`d seen him smiling as his gaze was fixed on her moving silhouette. You were mad at him because of the girl in the past. She was a bitch too though. Those memories surfaced in your mind and you felt goose bumps. Past is in the past you reminded yourself. He should just stay away from you.

You carried the chair back to the storage room, grabbed a can of coke and a sandwich from your bag and sat at the table. Robin came in and looked at you with a face your mom gives you when you leave too many mugs in your room. Yeah, and now you have to have this conversation. You put your food away and prepared yourself.

“We need to talk” Of course we do. “It`s about Steve” What a surprise.

“What`s wrong with him?”

“There`s nothing wrong him. I know you don`t like him. I`m sure he did something bad to you but he changed. And he is my best friend so.. I care about him” Your eyes went down when she sat in front of you. “Listen, I like you here. For a whole month it was just me, dingus and Kieth. And I`ve started having suicidal thoughts. I want you to stay but you have to keep it cool. You either talk to him about what happened or you just forget about it”

“Okay. I…uh..I won`t hurt his feelings again?” She chuckled. “It`s just-

“ROBIN! There`s a mad customer and I need you” Steve flew into the room with a check in his hand. “Remember that old lady from yesterday who said she really enjoyed the turtles documentary? She`s actually watched a porn”

“What!?”

“Yeah, and now there`s a guy screaming about turtles out there”

“What the fuck?! Okay, come on, dingus. We need to fix it” she handed you a piece of paper. “This is your shift schedule with my number. I think you can go home now. AND we haven`t finished yet. So-

“ROBIN!”

“CAll me tonight and we will talk about it. SEE YA!”

They ran away slamming the door. You packed your stuff, changed your clothes and walked out. It was fresh outside. Summer wind in your hair and you shivered. Maybe you should talk to someone about that accident.

#steve x reader #steve harrington #steve #steve harrington x reader #imagine #imagine steve #imagine steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #slowburn #stranger things #stranger thing imagine #imagine stranger things #robin #joe #joe keery #slow burn

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out-of-this-town · 4 years

Text

The will to protect

Inuyasha AU, InuKag, romance & adventure

Before dying, Kikyo ties Inuyasha’s life to her little sister, Kagome, in order to ensure her safety.

Inuyasha is not too pleased about getting dragged into this mess and demands that Kagome undo the spell. Unfortunately for him, she has no idea how to do that. As danger draws near, Inuyasha has to find the willingness to keep Kagome out of harm’s way as Kagome tries to find a way to release Inuyasha from the spell.

Chapter 4 (ao3) (ff)

“Could you slow down?” Kagome snapped for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The sun had barely been up when Inuyasha had demanded that they leave for Mushin’s temple. He had wanted to go last night, but Kagome absolutely refused to travel when the sun had already been setting. From the speed he was traveling with now, Kagome assumed he was either trying to catch up on the lost time or trying to take revenge on her. Probably both.

Every time she had asked, Inuyasha refused to slow down. If Kagome tried to sit down to take a break, he would grab her arm and drag her after him until she agreed to continue. Now she was tired, hungry and mad. And it was all Inuyasha’s fault.

“Pick up the pace! I’m already going at a crawling speed because of you and I ain’t about to slow down any more,” came the shout from a half-demon that was nothing but a red silhouette in the distance. Thanks to his hearing, she didn’t have to raise her voice to be heard whereas Inuyasha had to yell out his replies, making it sound like he was mad... he probably was.

“I’m just a human you know! I can’t run all day in order to keep up with you.” Kagome kicked a small rock in frustration. They had been traveling less than half a day and she was already done with this, never mind that the journey should take at least three more days. There was no chance that they were both coming out of this experience alive, one of them would end up murdered by the roadside during the next few days. Maybe even by the end of this day.

“Ain’t my fault that you’re just a lousy human, and I sure as fuck ain’t suffering the consequences of it. Now, pick. Up. The fucking. Pace!”

“No! And stop cursing at me!” Kagome stopped her walking and glared at the reason for her bad mood.

She could see Inuyasha turning around and heading back towards her. Kagome rolled her eyes and sat down on a rock next to the dirt road. She set down her bow and quiver, before starting to dig through the sack in which she carried food as well as other things she might need for this trip.

She was just about to take a bite out of her peach when Inuyasha came to a stop in front of her and grabbed her wrist. “No you don’t. No breaks until I say so, and there won’t be one until the sun starts setting. And that’s only if I’m feeling generous.”

Kagome tried to tuck her wrist -and her food- free from his grip while giving him her best stink eye. “If I don’t eat and rest, I will pass out. And if that keeps happening, I won’t be in good enough shape to undo the spell.”

She could see his jaw tensing as he mulled her words, and then -at last- he relented. With an angry sigh, Inuyasha let go of her and drop down to sit on the ground, legs grossed and chin resting on his hand. Kagome could practically feel the annoyance radiating off of him.

She might have been a little pleased about that.

“You better be quick about it, were wasting time whenever were not moving,” he grumbled. Kagome hummed as if in agreement, but in her mind she decided to take all the time she wanted just to spite him.

“What’s your hurry anyway? It’s not like the temple will disappear if were not there in the next few days.” She took a careful bite out of the fruit and made a little noise of delight when the juice hit her mouth. Gods, she was thirsty but she had run out of water by the fourth hour of this trip. She’d have to convince Inuyasha to find her a stream soon... or she could just die of dehydration, which honestly seemed like a more pleasant thing to do.

“This mess has already take far too long to clean up. I ain’t spending any more time on this than I have to,” he scoffed.

Kagome snorted and rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you have some urgent half-demon things to take care of? Not enough villagers getting scared without your presence? A rabbit you have to hurry home to kill? Maybe there are some trees in your territory that you haven’t pissed on yet?”

He whirled around to face her, looking a little murderous. “What the fuck do you think you know about my life?”

“Nothing,” She shrugged. “That’s why I asked.” She did her best to adopt an innocent look on her face.

“Listen here you bitch,” Inuyasha barked. “we’re going to get to that temple and you ain’t gonna open you mouth again until we get there. Got that?”

“Or what, you’ll kill me? I thought you said yesterday that you weren’t suicidal.”

“I swear to the fucking Gods, I’m going to break your goddamn legs and drag you to that temple. See if that shut you up.”

“So, your plan is to drop a half-dead, severely injured priestess to a temple inhabited by powerful monks?” She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, that does sound like a great idea. I’m sure they will welcome you with open arms.”

Inuyasha’s lips started to peel back, revealing a set of sharp canines accompanied by the sound of a bone-chilling growl. The show of aggression would have probably freaked her out if she hadn’t known he couldn’t risk harming her. Also, her own anger and frustration did wonders in pushing down her natural instincts of ‘don’t piss him off, he can kill you in a blink of an eye’.

When, instead of answering, he just kept snarling at her, Kagome rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I want to talk to you either. Just let me rest and eat when I need to and we don’t have a problem.”

He didn’t ease up.

Kagome took an angry bite out of her peach and shook her head while swallowing, beyond annoyed with his attitude. “You seriously think I want to be here? I just found out my sister died and instead of dealing with that, I’m traveling with a complete jerk. I’m not planning on spending any unnecessary time with you, but I’m not going to get myself killed from sheer exhaustion just to keep you happy. So quit your growling and calm down, your the one wasting time arguing about this.” She grabbed her empty waterskin and threw it at him. “If you wan’t to be productive with your time, find water and fill that while I finish eating.”

To her surprise, Inuyasha did take the waterskin without another word and got up to head for the forest. He was, of course, glaring at her and muttering some less-than-kind words as he went, but that didn’t surprise her.

Dumb jerk, was what she was thinking about while watching him go.

Trying to calm her anger, Kagome ate her food and watched as the clouds rolled past in the sky. She was really starting to regret deciding to help Inuyasha. He had said that, according to Kikyo, Kagome was the only one who could break the spell. And yet, he treated her like dirt. She should have just told him to get comfortable with his new way of life and to leave her be.

She was in the process of stretching out her legs and dreading the amount of blisters she would have by the end of this day, when she felt the shift in the air. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and a cold feeling of dread pool at the pit of her stomach.

Something bad was closing in. And that something wasn’t alone, there was a whole horde of them.

Kagome slung the quiver over her shoulder and picked up her bow, ready to shoot as she felt the horde of demons coming to a stop as they reached the edge of the forest. She felt the mass of demon energy splitting up, no doubt they were planning to surround her before attacking from all sides.

Kagome kept herself facing towards the direction where the demonic energy was the strongest. Her accuracy was good, but unless these demons were extraordinarily slow she didn’t stand a chance against so many coming from all around her. Not to mention the limited amount of arrows she had.

Even though she was sure Inuyasha had sensed the demons by now, and -unless he wanted to die- was on his way to make sure she survived this, she was still a little nervous. Kagome had never seen him fight, she didn’t know how well he would handle this. Add in the fact that they weren’t exactly on friendly terms, he probably wouldn’t mind if she lost a limb or two during this, as long as she remained alive.

As soon as she saw the first glimpse of a demon, Kagome let loose an arrow. It sunk into it’s target, the sacred light purifying the demon and a few others that were close enough to be affected by it. She was quick to turn to the side where another demon was trying to catch her off guard. The arrow did it’s duty, but Kagome cursed the fact that no other demon was close enough to be purified by the light. By her estimation there was at least forty different demonic auras, and her quiver could only hold 24 arrows -currently 22, so the more demons she took out in one shot the better.

Quickly, she took aim again, this time towards a grouping of demons, hoping to take out them all at once. Her concentration was broken when a loud, pained screech startled her. A fast glance told her that Inuyasha had arrived and was ripping off a demon’s arm and using it to skewer another. Charming.

Kagome returned to her earlier targets and cursed out loud when she noticed that they’d scattered and were running for her from three different directions. She let loose two arrows in quick succession, but the third demon was too close by the time she yanked out a new arrow. She gripped the arrow in her fist, preparing to duck from the demon’s claws and trying to spot a soft place on the demon that she’d be strong enough to stab her weapon into.

Just as the demon reached her, it collapsed to the ground as the result of a half-demon dropping down on it’s back.

“What the fuck are you standing there for!?” Inuyasha yelled as he ripped off the offending demon’s head.

Kagome chose to ignore him in order to step away from the blood splatter and shoot down another group of demons.

“Put the fucking bow down! I’m getting us out of here.” Kagome yelped as pair of arms came around her, ready to whisk her away.

“No!” she yelled and let her powers flare a little. Inuyasha cursed and jumped away from her, shaking out his hands that had touched the purifying light.

“Did you already get hit on the head in the five fucking seconds I was away?” he growled at her while turning around and using his claws to slash at a demon that had tried to sneak up on him. “Or did you forget that you’ll get me killed too with your stupidity.” As soon as he was done with his opponent, he whirled back towards Kagome, who had gone back to aiming her bow.

“I didn’t forget, but if we run they’ll just follow us. Or they might move on to the nearest village. We can’t let that happen.” Kagome avoided looking at him, keeping her focus on her targets.

“What the hell do I care about some human village.” He stomped over to her and wrapped his fingers around her arm. “Now, put a fucking leash on your powers and quit being stupid. I’m getting us out of here.”

Kagome tried to free herself from him but he wasn’t letting up. “No! If you don’t want to fight then leave, but I’m not going anywhere until these demons are dead.” The demons in question were getting close, screeching and trying to find the best angle to attack from. Kagome was a little surprised at how smart they were being. Usually, a low-level demons like these would attack without much of a strategy, but these ones were taking their time, waiting until her focus was somewhere else before trying to charge at her from behind.

She had a bad feeling on exactly who was responsible for teaching these demons.

“I’d get all of three steps away before keeling over because you got yourself gutted.” He was forced to let go of her so he could attack another demon that had dared to come too close. Kagome wasted no time before aiming again, now that her arm was free.

“Then I guess you’ll have to stay and help.” The only response she got was a string of insults and curses, as Inuyasha did just that.

It took a while and a few close calls, but they managed to kill all the demons. Neither of them were celebrating though, since they were busy glaring at each other.

“What the hell was that, wench? You nearly fucking shot me!” Inuyasha yelled and stomped towards her.

“I told you to get out of the way!” she snapped back while trying to shake off the demon goo from her sleeve. “Besides, I nearly got squashed by that demon corpse you threw!”

“If you don’t see a massive, dead demon flying your way, maybe you have no business being on the battlefield.”

“I shouldn’t have to worry about getting hurt by the person whose fighting on the same side as me!”

The arguing continued for a while longer until they had exhausted all their insults and accusations. After a long moment filled with more glaring, Kagome finally had enough and marched off, declaring that she needed wash off the demon blood from her hair.

Surprisingly, Inuyasha didn’t fight her on that. Probably because he too was covered in demon entrails. He even showed her the way towards the river he had found earlier. Kagome had started to think that maybe they could get along, but as he walked past her, he made a comment about how awful she smelled.

Unsurprisingly, they argued some more after that.

#inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag #inukag fanfic #My writing #the will to protect

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leora-rambles · 5 years

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Getaway Car (Abbacchio x Reader [Angst])

I thought of this fic while listening to Taylor Swifts “Getaway Car”, and I just got Abbacchio vibes from it for some reason. Also, I apoligize if it seems rushed. I wanted to post this before Vento Aureos last episode ToT

——————————————————

Love was bad luck in Abbacchios eyes.

It did nothing but serve as a distraction to his work, as well as cause unnecessary situations.

You were the main reason he concreted this mindset.

You stroke up a conversation with the male one faithful night, ignoring his intimidating front, and though it was rare, Abbacchio decided against brushing you off.

Surprisingly, you two hit it off well. Slight touches against his forearm, playful nudges, it all indicated to the male that you were interested in him.

Tipsy and not thinking straight, you and Abbacchio exchanged numbers.

It wasn’t supposed to go further than that, but it did.

Abbacchio soon learned that he should’ve brushed you off from the start.

“Abbacchio, do you mind helping me?” You asked in an innocent tone, the shower water running down your entire body.

He sighed in fake annoyance, letting out a ‘Here, dolcezza’ before squirting shampoo into his palm.

His fingers worked their magic on your scalp, causing you to relax your tense shoulders in contentment. Once the suds began to grow, a mean prank popped up in the males mind.

“(Y/N), look.” He scooped up a handful of the bubbles in your hair. Turning around, you gasped with surprise as the male clapped his hands together. Bubbles splattered everywhere.

A giggle escaped your lips as your faintly callused hands hit his chest in retaliation. That’s when Abbacchio felt the warmth in his chest grow.

That feeling. That warmth that ignited in his chest every time he met your touch.

It should’ve been the cue for him to leave, to tell you goodbye. For him to pack his bags and disappear.

But he let it carry on like the affection-starved fool that he was.

He fell deeper in love with you when you huddled up to him for warmth. You acted as if he was perfection, even if he thought he was the complete opposite of it.

The day Abbacchio told you about his occupation and affiliation with Passione, you had accepted him so quickly, he had to make sure you heard him right.

Even still, he could look like he was attacked by a frightened street cat, but you’d marvel at him as if he were a masterpiece created by a skilled artist.

“You’re too warm for me not to hug you, Tesoro.” His heart would swell as you murmured sweet nothings into his neck. The blankets around you two were a mess, but you kept each other warm with your bodies. A rare smile graced the white haired males lips.

“I have to leave early for somewhere tomorrow.” His smile faltered at your words.

“What time do you leave?” “Ah, you might still be asleep, amore.” He tightened his arms around your waist.

A lighthearted laugh escaped your lips as you pressed yourself closer to your lover, “I know, I’m so unfair. I’ll make it up to you soon.”.

Abbacchio would be lying if he told you that he had never pondered on what your occupation was. The shifts were always bizarre.

His mind drifted to the options of what your work was, but he stopped himself in fear of the chances of you actually being...he didn’t want to face the possibility of it.

He left his worries in the hands of his future self, despite understanding that it could only cause him burden and grief.

It was a Saturday night when he saw you pointing a pistol towards a civilian.

He was only outside for a stroll, at least until he noticed a familiar silhouette.

Abbacchio unknowingly followed you into a deserted part of the city, watching as you walked into an alleyway.

He stayed hidden as you spoke, a different tone in your voice than when you’d talk to him.

“You still owe us the money. It’s been 3 weeks now.” The voice you used was cold and calloused, contrary to your normal loving and sweet tone. It was like you were a completely different person.

The person at the business end of your weapon responded quiveringly fast, “Please give me more time! I promise I’ll transfer all the money once I have it! I’ll—“ they didn’t get to finished, instead being interrupted by a deafening gunshot.

Abbacchio gagged at the noise, the dinner he ate threatening to spill onto the concrete. The sound of the loud bang brought him back, way back to the memories he would often revisit.

You were the reason his habit of sulking into the past stopped, so why did you have to also be the one to bring it back so violently?

He snapped his head away, his throat closing up at the grotesque imagery he was imagining. Blood splattered on your face was too much for the male to handle.

Abbacchio peeked back upon hearing a whimper, one that wasn’t yours. He sighed in relief upon seeing your smoking gun aimed at the sky.

The unharmed stranger stood still, your fire of warning clear as a piece of glass.

Their mouth was shut close as you dropped the wielding hand to your side.

“You’ll eat the next bullet if you don’t quit whining. I’m not afraid to make noise.” The tone of your voice was threatening, comparable to a red light signalling that something was terribly wrong.

Continuing, you leaned back on the wall. “I’ll give you another week. You’re lucky boss sent me instead of the usual men he sends off. You’d be dead if you were to encounter them.”

The person nodded their head, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on their face. They choked on their words, still dazed from the gunshot.

You snapped at them, interrupting their quickened heaves, “Get out of my sight. If you say anything more, I’ll change my mind.” With those words, the civilian scurried away, running into the darkness.

Abbacchio watched in the dim lighting as your eyebrows twitched downwards. You hit your lip as you faced the wall, tears dribbling down your cheeks.

The facade you put on crumbled before him. Abbacchio was confused. At this point, he wasn’t sure if he knew who you truly were.

At this point, he didn’t want to know.

Your hands clasped at your mouth, silencing your sobs.

Crouched down in the alleyway, you vented out your frustration at yourself.

Chest heaving, Abbacchio heard a whimper of “I never wanted this”.

The male froze upon hearing his name.

You thought you were alone when you spoke to yourself, a strangled “Forgive me, Abbacchio” exiting your lips.

The door opening and closing caught the males attention. He had run home, hiding in the shadows in the process.

He was slumped over the living room couch, hair a pony-tailed mess, and eyes swollen.

“Abba! I’m home!” He relished in your voice, drinking it up like the wine that sat in front of him.

Abbacchio laughed to himself bitterly, ‘The other facade is on.’

Skipping into the living room, you called out for the male. “Abba! I have the supplies you forgot to buy. Didn’t you need some— Amore? What’s wrong?”

Abbacchios face fell upon hearing the worry in your tone. His focus was on the nearly-empty bottle of wine propped up on the coffee table.

“Hey, answer me.” You sat down beside him on the couch, bags forgotten on the floor. Concern was plastered all over your face.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and hiding his face on your collar bone.

“You’re a really good actor, tesoro.” The low vibrations of his voice sent chills down your spine.

“What makes you say that?” You quivered slightly, Abbacchio laughing into your shoulder.

He sighed after his giggling fit, you felt two wet droplets fall onto your t-shirt.

“You managed to hide being in a gang from me.”

Eyes wide, you felt the males face rise up from its place on your shoulder. His eyes were wet as he looked into yours.

“Just rip my heart out already. Tell me what you were doing in that alleyway.” You flinched as he practically sneered his sentence out.

You were shivering, contemplating your reply.

“You weren’t supposed to find out.” The white haired male felt his heart crumble all over again at your words. Fucking hell. He should’ve seen this sooner. Way sooner.

He felt the sugarcoated lies he built around you crumble as you explained.

Everything you told him was all canceled out by a loud ringing he heard, reminiscent of you shooting your pistol at the sky. The only word he could comprehend was “gang”, but that was all he needed to hear in order to understand.

He stood up, walking over to the wall to hide his face into with his arms.

The fact that the name of it was not Passione was all that he needed snap back to the present.

Your embrace caught him off guard.

Crying against the toned man, you let out a sob. “Forgive me.” Your arms around him still felt loving, tight with the emotion of desperation.

“Please forgive me for hiding all this from you.”

The warmth in his chest was a different kind of fire. It burned brightly.

It was the type of fire that could sting ones eyes with its violent smoke.

And sting Abbacchios eyes, it did.

“Why do you have to be in Passiones rival gang?” He managed to choke out, facing you to drop his head onto your shoulder. “What are you going to do now?”

You looked down, hoping, praying that he wasn’t implying what you were thinking.

“Abbacchio, we’ve been together for this long. I’m sure it’ll still work out—!” “—And what if it doesn’t?” His cold interruption to your frantic speaking made you freeze.

“I’ve already put you in danger by being your lover.” He placed his hands on your shoulders. “To also be in Passiones rival gang is suicide for you.”

Abbacchio lifted his head from the crook of your neck.

“You need to leave me. Your gang doesn’t know yet, but if you stay with me, they’ll learn soon.”

You held onto his hands. “Leone Abbacchio, I am not leaving you! How can you be so selfish to ask me for such a thing!” Abbacchio stood, unresponsive to your cries, shaking your hands off of his.

“You can’t just tell me to leave you! You know damn well more than anyone that I can’t do that! I love you too much, Abbacchio!” You grasped his suit, hoping that he’ll come to his senses. Maybe this would incline for him to stay.

Everything was going so well, so why did he have to find out?

Abbacchio winced at your expression. He wanted to keep you by his side, he truly did, but the thought of your life being at risk because of him caused Abbacchio to feel sick.

He pried your hands off of his suit.

“If you’re not going to leave,” Abbacchio pushed you away gently, “Then I will.”

Abbacchio ignored your begs and cries for him to speak with you, reaching for the doorknob.

“I called Bruno in advance.” Abbacchio started, “He’ll be here before you know it, and then I’ll be gone.”

Abbacchio proceeded outside.

The white haired male refused to face you. He didn’t want to be tempted into changing his decision by seeing your hurt expression.

“Just forget about me.” He told you nonchalantly. His heart hurt, but in his mind, this was for your own safety.

“What do you mean forget you—?! You can’t just leave me like this Abbacchio!”

Hair disheveled and eyes puffy from all the crying, you were a mess kneeling at the doorway.

Bucciarati was already there, like Abbacchio told you. The short haired male sat silent in the driver seat, watching in pity as you yelled for your now ex-lover.

Watching him get inside the car ripped your heart into two.

You made no effort to try and pull Abbacchio away from the vehicle, already accepting that it would be fruitless.

That didn’t stop your wails for him, however.

Abbacchio felt himself die in his getaway car, shedding his own tears in the process.

This was for your safety, he reminded himself.

“Don’t leave me like this!” Was the last thing he heard before Bucciarati finally drove off.

He never let go of the memories you two shared.

He replayed your form over and over. Your face cuddling into an invisible him on the bed, simply being in the living room lounging around, he replayed everything he remembered of you.

The new rookie Bucciarati introduced to the team only made him feel worse. That damn blondes attitude reminded him too much of you.

Still, he visited your old home, now abandoned, and let Moody Blues do its thing.

With each replay, he felt himself crumble more and more.

Love didn’t exist anymore. At least not to Abbacchio.

#jojo abbacchio #jojos bizarre adventure #jjbaxreader #jjba #vento aureo #jojo golden wind #jojo part 5 #leone abbacchio #abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio x reader #reader insert #abbachio reader insert #angst #jjba angst #abbacchio #my writing

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demonsforfriends · 4 years

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Just having a quiet moment to myself to sit and think about everything that's happened in the last week or so, and reflect on what's going on in my life right now.

It's been 3 weeks now since I've been in isolation and it's been a blessing in disguise. I didn't realise how much I needed time to just hermit and be at home and not mixing with the outside world. It's been over 3 weeks since I dissociated last, and that's something of a record for me. Even though we're having money worries, the same as everyone else, anxiety levels have dropped significantly.

Last week, we hit a bit of a bump. Well, a big bump actually. While anxiety has been a lot more manageable, there's been a lot of random depressive spells, and last week out of nowhere, I hit a wall, completely snapped, and made a really irrational, split second decision to end my life, and just went out on autopilot. For a moment, I was completely overwhelmed, felt like I was the source of all that's wrong with everything, felt like everyone's lives would be better without me in it and was just completely exhausted with the state of the world.

I struggle to do and understand a lot of things. Basic things, like working out how I feel, and talking about it, and dealing and acting on a single emotion. Feeding myself when I'm hungry. Showering when I need to. Understanding people's feelings and intentions. It's so difficult and confusing to the point of tears sometimes. But at the same time, I feel so so deeply, I just can't do anything about it a lot of the time, and not for lack of trying either. When I can actually pick up on it, I can feel deeper for others than I can myself. I've speculated in the past that I have autism, and never really thought anything of it, I just brushed it off and carried on. More recently, it's felt more and more like something I need to confront and deal with. Anyway, when I was off on my little suicide mission, I had a moment of clarity and I stopped. I turned my phone back on, and listened to the voicemail that my fiancée had left me and it absolutely broke my heart. She was so scared, and hurt, and confused and could barely speak for crying and it wrote me off. For a moment, I had a flash of confusion, which quickly turned to anger and self loathing. How could she love me? I'm so obsessed with perfection, but I am so imperfect, the exact opposite of the thing I've spent my entire life chasing, and trying to be. But as quickly as the anger came on, it dissolved. All I wanted to do was go home and make her feel better. I've always said that her happiness is my happiness, and I'll probably always stand by that. I went home, had a chat with the police, went with the ambulance crew to the hospital, spoke to the mental health teams, and went home to her. I felt so much remorse. We have regular mental health check ups with each other anyway, but that night we really talked a lot, about what I want, why I can't ever do anything for myself and the general day to day struggled that I have, and ups and downs that I have, and how to deal with my autism better. She also tried to work out how to love me better, which made me kinda sad, because there's no way she could do more for me than she already does, but she vowed to stick to it nonetheless. I've always believed her when she tells me she loves me, but somehow I believe her more now than ever.

I'm so glad I didn't go through with ending my life last week. I've experienced so many beautiful moments in this last 8 days alone. Things that would seem small and insignificant to some, but have been amazing and beautiful and really meaningful to me.

The first day after everything that happened, we spent the day at home together, mostly in bed. Just being in each others company. She held me and kept me calm for most of the day. Just the pure warmth and innocence of naked skin to skin contact was amazing. Jen sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the window, and as the sun was setting, I noticed the way the skin touched her skin and outlined her body, and it was truly an amazing thing to watch, so much so that I had to capture it. Her silhouette looked perfect against the dusk sky. I had a really profound feeling of being grateful to survive the previous afternoon, else I wouldn't have lived to see that moment.

Tuesday was a really, really amazing day, start to finish. One of the best days I've had in a long long time. Once Jen got back from work, we had a parcel arrive from Ithaca, actually genuinely one of my favourite bands. When the Covid-19 lockdown started, we bought a long sleeved t-shirt from them, because A. the shirt is sick as fuck and B. just to show some love and support. To our surprise, they sent us two shirts, the one that we ordered, as well as a bonus shirt from old merch stock, as well as a sticker and a handwritten note on the back of a photo of Djamila's dog, The Ham™.

Afterwards, we got dressed and headed out to go get some food shopping, and decided to talk through the park on the way home, and came across a beautiful bed of daffodils, so of course, I had to take pictures. The one above is my favourite, of course. Jen has the most beautiful smile, especially now that I know that she's happy for real.

After we'd been home, put the shopping away and showered, we headed out again. This time, to go hunt down a good spot to try and take some good photos of the "Pink Moon". We went for a nice long walk through the woods first though. It was so quiet, all we could hear were birds singing, the water running in the stream and the ground beneath our feet.

Once we found a good spot on high ground, we sat on top of two big rocks in front of some trees, one tree in particular was a a blossom tree, and we watched the sun go down, and just sat there quietly, looking at all of the colours meld and mix in the sky.

After the sun had set, we found the best spot we could find to set up the tripod and Jen sat by for a good half an hour to 45 minutes while I tried to get the best shot I could of the moon. I am honestly so so proud of this photo, I personally think it's one of the best photos I've ever taken.

I was starting to feel as though Jen was getting bored of sitting around, while I was indulging myself, as I know I often get carried away and absorbed when I'm doing something creative, and starting to feel like I should wrap things up, but instead, she took a big interest in what I was doing, and took the time and effort to get involved in what I was doing. She came and sat with me, and asked me questions about how my camera worked, and gave it a try for herself. I remember watching her try, and adjust, and try again and I remember feeling so much love, and feeling so proud of her. No one has ever gone out of their way to involve themselves in something that I love doing the way she did, and that memory, and that picture will stick with me forever.

This is just a bonus picture of Jen, because I thought she looked really beautiful under the glow of the streetlights and the moon. 😍

The day after/yesterday, after Jen came home from work, we spend another afternoon in bed together, to have some alone time. While the sex was amazing, as it usually is, that isn't the moment that sticks out for me, it's this one, in the photo. This might be grim, or kinda gross or just too much information for some, but I don't care. Now, ever since we have been together, both of us have become more comfortable body hair, periods, and pretty much everything that our bodies do naturally and we both find it beautiful. Something I've noticed, as well, is that people don't generally tend to talk much about grooming, especially when it comes to helping your partner groom and helping your partner with self care. Well, recently, we both decided to shave together, which is something both of us had to do before to please others, even though I never really liked it. However, this time is was different. Anyway, I have quite sensitive skin, and naturally, I get a lot of ingrown hairs, this time around have had a lot and it's been very uncomfortable and at times quite painful. When we were lay in bed together, I was in a bit of discomfort with it, and without batting an eyelid, Jen picks up the tweezers, heads back down there and starts removing and relieving all of the ingrown hairs. This really sticks out to me as a really beautiful moment. She was so gentle, and I was so comfortable that I felt no pain at all. I've never met anybody who treats my body with such care and respect before as she does, and she protects and looks after it better than I do. I remember being filled with love, and I felt like it was such an intimate moment, but a gentle, innocent kind of intimacy and it was beautiful. Another moment that will stay with me for a long, long time.

Later on in the evening, we went out for another walk, this time to go and meet Jen's mother and collect some food that she had got for us. On the way there, we came across a beautiful cherry blossom tree. Cherry blossoms are both of our favourite flowers, we absolutely adore them, so I wanted to photograph them, but I'm not a tall person and the tree was very high, so I couldn't reach to get a good close up photo of the flowers. Within seconds, she gave me a piggy back and hoisted me up high so I could get close enough to take this photo. We must've looked crazy to onlookers, but it was like we were the only two people in the world.

If I had gone through with ending my life last week, I would've missed out on all of these precious moments. As I said, they may seem small or insignificant to some, but to me, they hold so much weight and meaning. All of that would've been gone, within a split second of being overwhelmed.

Jennifer Stephanie Riddell, I wouldn't be here without you. I love you, so so much, more than words will ever be able to say. I can't wait to become your wife, so that everyday for the rest of our lives, we can carry on making beautiful memories out of the little things. Every day, you give me a reason to feel love and feel grateful for being alive. I hope you realise how special you are to me, and how meaningful it is to spend my life with you, however big or small the moment is.

#personal

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x-useobwa-x · 5 years

Text

༄ You’re my beginning and my end, that is all | Part 1

~ Request ~

< Part 2 >

Former Idol!Hoseok x Reader

PLEASE READ! This part contains description of attempted suicide and post traumatic behavior. If you are sensitive to these topics, please DO NOT read this!! I've put the „keep reading“ button to the very beginning as a precaution, because it really doesn't start well.

a/n: requested by @depressed-philosophers-daughter! Oh god I'm going to hell... THE. ANGST. IS. REAL. (also who noticed that the title is one of Hoseoks phrases of Outro: Tear translated into English? It was just so fitting, oh god, I had to!) Thank you so much, I loved this request! I don't even know how I feel?? Am I extremely fucking sad?? Am I happy?? Am I still alive?? Is this heaven or hell?? SHIT SHUT UP YOU TELL ME AKKSSLLS!!! But yeah!! I hope you're happy with it, thanks so much again for trusting me with your amazing idea and giving me lots of space to work with!!💓

Start reading!

⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣

You stopped on the spot and your blood froze in your veins when you saw him, the man you loved, as he collapsed onto the floor, heavy breathing, panting, trying to hold onto dear life- except for the fact that he wasn’t.

Cameras, police, ambulance, all of it was surrounding him, as his life cascaded down in front of him.

This was the moment you knew your feeling was right. The cryptic, weird messages he sent you last night suddenly made so much sense on this beautiful Thursday morning. But this morning wasn’t beautiful. This morning was the beginning of the fall, for the both of you.

You didn’t realize when you started crying, it was only when you found your cheeks burning and irritated from the salty substance that’s been covering it whole. Your heart hurt, it hurt so much.

You watched as his body started to spasm, to twitch on the floor while his mouth was wide open gasping heavily for air and his eyes rolling back. Your legs gave in, you dropped to the floor and managed to catch yourself last second on your hands before your face would have met the cold asphalt. Your heart broke on the spot, to say it shattered into countless pieces was a great understatement. Your breathing increased by all the panic that flooded you whole, your head feeling light by the cause of oxygen overdosing. His body now came to rest and stopped any movement. This had your heart dropping to the lowest point possible. He didn’t just.. did he?

Noise cut through the air. The noise, in fact was you, crying out loud, screaming all kinds of ,no’ and ,please’ when you notice how Hoseoks head slowly turned to face your direction, eyes barely open. The second he realized you were watching, his face, muscles weak, turned into something that seemed like the expression of sadness, guilt and all those kinds in one. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want you to witness this. It was supposed to be the moment that freed him of everything, a happy moment, but right now, he was wishing that he had never done this. The last action of Hoseok was him, lifting his arm the tiniest bit, reaching out into your direction and you could swear you saw his mouth moving and a tear rolling down his face. Then he was gone.

The emergency doctors scooped him up on a stretcher and quickly brought him into the ambulance.

One of the doctors was talking with a police officer, and that was the second your body started to move on its own. You ran towards the mass of audience that was watching- mostly journalists that tried to catch the lowest moments of your boyfriends life on camera. You squeezed and pushed yourself through but got stopped by one of the police officers, holding you back as you struggle and kick around in attempt to free yourself to reach the ambulance.

„I’m afraid I can’t let you pass, miss.“ the officer said, trying to talk over your cries.

„No!! I have to get there, you... you don’t understand!! This is my boyfriend! He’s dying you have to let me through, PLEASE!!“ you begged and begged, but the officer showed no mercy.

The doors closed and the ambulance drove off, and now you were there, alone. The whole group of people around you was fading out and you couldn’t do anything but stare. Stare after the ambulance as it rushed through the streets, sirens blaring.

This was the last time you’ve ever seen him.

Sometime later, you heard that he actually survived, and was put into compulsory hospitalization.

And that was the last time you also heard anything about him.

- 2 years later -

You think about it a lot, actually, all the time. The pictures find its way into your mind with every chance they get and you barely can handle it.

You managed to go back to live a normal life after some time passed, sure, but you never nearly got over it. You see him, his silhouette, every here and there while you slender through places with many passengers, as if he’d be looking for you, too. You smell his cologne almost every time someone walks past you, as if he’d never left you in the first place, still always by your side, and these were probably the worst parts. At home, you find yourself talking whole dialogues with no one, because your mind plays its tricks on you, making him appear in front of your eyes, his voice echoing in your head as it answers to each and everything you say.

You’re on your way to work as your phone pops up a notification on your screen.

[09:47] Hoseok♥: Hey babe, I’ll be a bit late for dinner today, interview’s taking longer than expected. Cant wait to finally be with you again. I miss you.

Your heart skips a happy beat and you slide to unlock, so you can reply.

[09:49] You: Of course, that’s no problem! I miss you too, I’ll be waiting.♥

But your reply never went out. You were hallucinating once again, and you come to realize that, when you got the message of error, saying that the number can’t be contacted. Sadness creeping up your insides, you sigh, as you lock your phone again, putting it in your handbag so you won’t look for his messages again.

As you walk down the avenue to reach the cafe you currently work for, you see him again.

Everywhere.

He’s standing on the other side of the street, waving at you, he’s sitting on the bench on the sidewalk, scrolling through his phone listening to music, he’s strolling through the aisles of the store next to you, looking through this and that while you can watch him through the shop window.

Shaking your head, you pull out your headphones from your pocket and plug them into your phone, playing some music.

Actually, this is a bad idea, so you stop, only a minute in, if even. You were only listening to his songs anyways, and that’s the worst you could do right now, while your mind is playing you dirty as it does every so often.

You almost made it to work. There your mind will shut its damn mouth, and you can finally breathe for a moment before the choking reality will hit you in the face once again.

„Y/n?“ There it was again. His sweet voice. You know it isn’t real. You know it. And that makes all the worse.

„Y/n... it’s you, isn’t it?“ Despite your knowledge of your fucked up mind, you still turn around to face the direction his voice is calling out to you this time.

As your eyes meet his, you only huff in response with a sad smile.

„Hello, I’ve seen you a lot today, love.“ you say without thinking twice. Expecting the usual -the image in front of you fading as soon as you answer- you watch closely for it to happen, as if you’d have found some twisted pleasure in the hurt.

The more your eyes widen at the fact that this time, he’s still there.

His expression is surprised and worried at the same time.

„You have?“

Now you don’t even know anymore yourself. This was a whole new level. At home, he’s interacting with you, but he never does outside. What is this supposed to be? Unless...

You know its stupid, incredibly stupid. But if you’ve ever had the slightest spark of hope inside of you, it’s this one, and you were about to take it, to take the leap, the one that could either change your life completely, or throw you into a much deeper hole than you already find yourself stuck in.

Carefully, hesitant, you bring your arm up, slowly and scared for whats going to happen, and you reach out ever so small, straightening your hand, aiming for his chest.

Closer, closer, only a little bit left and - it hit solid base.

Your eyes widen an unreal amount as your gaze wanders from where your hand rests, up to look into his face.

This can’t be. This can’t be real. How, why...?

„...Hoseok?“ you say, voice silent, shaky and almost breaking.

If this is going to turn out as some sort of mindfuck, you are sure you will follow in his footsteps this time. This would be that one bit too much to take. This will either make or break you.

His hand comes up, softly cupping yours.

„Long time no see, y/n.“ he says, smiling the smallest of smiles.

Your heart stops beating. At this point you might pass out. While you can’t process what’s happening right now, you’re just staring.

While your eyes are locked with his, tears form at an unreal pace, spilling over your lower lash line, your other hand covering your mouth. He’s real. This time, he’s really real. You are so overwhelmed by what’s happening right now, your mind is calculating with light speed, checking every detail of it, making really sure for one last time that you aren’t tripping right now.

„You look just like the last time I saw you.“ he says now, breaking the silence, as well as breaking eye contact to look down onto the floor. You swallow hard.

„The last time you saw me, was me being terrified and scared... crying while looking at you.“ you finally manage to say.

„Yes...“, he says quiet, „thats exactly what you look like right now.“, voice now barely more than a shaky whisper.

You realize that he’s right. Right now, you must probably look as if you’ve seen a ghost come back to life- in fact this is basically exactly what this is for you. After years and years of only seeing an unreal version of what he once was, this certainly feels delusive.

Your tears still trailing down your face as if they were to never stop, Hoseok does something that you’ve longed for for what felt like an eternity, something you’ve needed the most during all this time; he pulls you into his embrace. This feeling was ethereal. It gave you the immediate feeling of being safe, that nothing can hurt you ever again. His smell clouding your senses, the smell you til this day call home. The two of you remain like this for a while, he wouldn’t let you go before your tears stopped, he never did. It really takes you a great amount of time to calm yourself. But when you do, it only is a small sniff that you give off, and then you look up to him, still held captive in his arms.

„Let’s go somewhere else, do you want to?“ he invites. You would love to. Every bit of what you are is screaming for this, on the contrary, there are screams for you to run as long as you can, as well. You are scared, so scared that those events would repeat, but the longing for him is so much stronger.

A second later, you realize that you have work, though, and that you most likely are late already, after you’ve been standing there with him for quite a while. Quickly, you debate with yourself whether you go to work or call in sick and cancel your shift, as if you wouldn’t already have made up your mind.

„Hoseok, I need to make a call, give me a second, okay?“

He sends a nod your way and you turn around to call in sick. Your absence for today is quickly approved -you’re their hardest working employee anyways, since you basically dive into work to distract yourself from thinking too much- and you turn back to the guy that’s patiently waiting for you.

„Where do you want to go?“ you ask carefully. You still cant quite believe that this is real, too long you’ve been dealing with hallucinating over him. Luckily, Hoseok seems to still know you as if he never left your side.

„You don’t really seem to be alright, which I can understand. Believe it or not, this is just as overwhelming for me as it is for you, but I also couldn’t be more happy if I’m honest. I remember you not liking public places when you’re not feeling good, so, do you want to head over to your place?“

Damn it, Hoseok. He causes your heart rate to speed up by the fact that he felt the exact same way and still is able to read you like an open book- one he’s already read once.

„That’d be great, yes.“ you answer and point into the direction behind you. „I still live in the same apartment.“ you add and he nods, starting to walk.

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drawacharge · 6 years

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yo, idk what this is but it’s like. kind of sad ( no death or anything, just lots of angst lol ) and heavy discussion of suicide and suicide idealization.

Billy’s standing at the edge of the quarry when Steve Harrington rolls up in his BMW, headlights casting a shadow off him that climbs the mountain wall like a monster’s silhouette. His arms are at his sides, and there’s a bottle of alcohol dangling from his fingers. The same warm air that’s been slowly melting the water meters below them blows his blonde hair to the side, locks twisting in the breeze. He’s completely still.

Steve isn’t trying to be quiet when he puts his car in park, and steps out without turning it off, headlights still streaming across Billy. He slams the door and walks toward him, not even the sound of Steve’s sneakers crunching gravel earning Billy’s attention.

He’s not sure what to say, or do, but it’s four am and it’s weird for Steve to be out on a ride, and even weirder for Hargrove to be standing at the edge of a cliff with booze in his hand an unnatural stillness about him. He’s usually never not moving. Shifting his weight at practice, bouncing his knee on the bench, flipping his pen between his fingers while studying in the library. Billy seemed to have constant energy, always fidgeting, always moving. Except right now.

If he wasn’t standing up, Steve would have thought he was dead.

Is he even breathing?

“Hargrove--”

“I heard some guy jumped from here while he was drunk and killed himself,” he remarks, interrupting Steve in a way he wasn’t sure was purposeful or not. His back is still to Steve, but he finally moves, fingers flexing around the neck of the liquor bottle.

“Yeah.” He’s just staring at his back, watching his loose shirt shift in the breeze. He has to be freezing. “I think, uh. Back when Hopper and Ms. Byers were, like, teenagers.”

Billy knows who they both are. Hopper drove him home that night he woke up on the Byers’ floor feeling like he got hit by a freight train. Joyce worked where he got his cigarettes. He’s picked up bandages and other first aid supplies there too, but Steve isn’t supposed to know that part. Just like he isn’t supposed to know that Hopper’s been called up to the Hargrove residence a few times for domestic disturbance calls.

His only reply is a grunt, and then silence falls back between them. Steve isn’t sure what to say, or do, or ask, except for what he wants to ask, but probably shouldn’t so.

They aren’t friends. They’re barely even cordial.

He should get in his car and go home. Except.

He might wake up in the morning to a report that Billy Hargrove’s Camaro was found parked at the edge of the quarry with no Billy Hargrove in sight. He might be forced into joining a search party even though he already knows what they’ll find ( or won’t find ). Barbara Holland’s death already eats away at him when he should be sleeping, he doesn’t need another on his conscience.

“You going to jump?” He asks, only realizing after the words have left his mouth that he maybe should have found a more sensitive way of saying them.

Regardless, Billy barks out a laugh. He tilts his head to the side and back just enough that one blue eye catches Steve’s. He thinks he sees a shadow similar to a bruise around it, but isn’t sure if that’s just an optical illusion cast by headlights.

“You hoping I do?”

Steve’s nose scrunches up, “I might not like you, Hargrove, but that doesn’t mean I want you dead.”

“Funny,” Billy says, and turns back toward the cliff. “I wanted you dead.”

Steve doesn’t miss the past tense.

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

He thinks about telling Billy how he isn’t scary. How absolutely fucking nothing about him scares Steve because he’s looked death in the face twice now, and death didn’t come in a pretty blonde package. No, death was wrapped in slimy skin and millions of teeth. Death had a snarl that haunted Steve’s dreams. Billy wasn’t death. Hell, Billy wasn’t even fear. Billy was just some pissed off teenager with a grudge against the entire fucking world and fists to back it up.

“People usually wanna’ kill you, golden boy?”

Not people, he thinks, but doesn’t say.

Instead, he finally steps up to stand beside Billy, and this time when Steve glances over he can make out the bruises perfectly. There’s one forming over Billy’s eye, another at his jaw. They seem fresh, not as ugly as they’ll be in the morning, but getting there. “You look like shit.”

Billy grins, showing off shiny white teeth, and Steve thinks it must hurt to pull his face like that, but if it does he can’t tell. Billy doesn’t even flinch. “So do you.”

It’s four am, and previous to this Steve was tossing and turning back and forth in bed. He hadn’t checked himself when he left, hadn’t even thought about it. His hair was probably a mess, eyes sunken in from a lack of sleep, bags laying heavy underneath them. Yeah, he probably looked like shit too.

“It’s kind of bullshit,” Billy continues, and suddenly he’s holding out the half empty bottle of whatever for Steve to take. “Adults always fucking say this is going to be the best years of your life--” Steve’s heard that before. Shit, any teenager with a beating heart has heard that before.

He unscrews the lid and takes a swig of what turns out to be brandy.

“-- and, I gotta’ say, if these are the best years of my life then--” Steve offers the bottle back out in silence, and Billy stops to take it. He gulps down an unhealthy amount. “--then there really ain’t any reason not to jump, is there?”

Steve opens his mouth.

“Don’t say it gets better, either, or I’ll fuck up your pretty face again.”

So, Steve closes his mouth.

Instead, he eventually says, “Dunno’ if it does. I’m only, like, a year older than you and it’s all still pretty shit.” Billy snorts. “My parents seem happy. Until they don’t.” Until they’re yelling at each other and throwing shit because Mr. Harrington came home with lipstick on the collar of his shirt.

“My ma’ was so unhappy she slit her own wrists while takin’ a bath.”

And like, wow, that’s a lot. That’s-- not what Steve expected to get back, especially from Billy, especially right now, when they weren’t friends, standing on the edge of a fucking cliff. He must be really wasted.

Steve’s pretty sure saying I’m Sorry will also get him punched, so.

“I got a girl killed.” Billy looks over at him. “It’s not... the same thing. But she uh. Died. In my pool. While I was getting laid.” Why he’s telling Hargrove this he has no fucking idea, but--

The dude told him about his fucking mom committing suicide so.

Billy takes another swig and holds the bottle back out. Steve’s taking a pull when he goes, “Aren’t we a fuckin’ pair, Harrington,” with such thick, bemused sarcasm that Steve can’t help but smile a little. It’s sardonic, maybe even flat, but it’s more genuine than any of the fake smiles he’s put on for other people lately.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “What a fucking pair.” There’s a beat then Steve adds, “And it’s fucking cold out. Come tell me how fucked up we are in my car before my dick freezes off.”

And he makes his way back to his car, not sure if Billy will follow. He has his booze, though, so Billy does, sliding into the passenger seat of the BMW as Steve slides into the driver’s side.

They don’t say anything as Steve turns on the heater. Billy doesn’t call Steve out for luring him away from the edge with absolutely no subtly, and Steve doesn’t call Billy out for letting him.

They just get warm together, drink, and stare out into the vast expanse of nothingness.

#harringrove #suicide idealization tw #suicide tw #no one kills themselves #but its Definitely talked about #like its the subject of the drabble #idk ive been in a really bad place #the last few days lol #so yea #i contemplated not posting this at all but #shrugs #here #two sad boys kind of? finding solace in each other #my drabbles

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kootenaygoon · 5 years

Photo

So,

June stood sentinel in her driveway wearing a snowboard jacket, hood up, while her lacy white nightgown swirled around her bare legs. My headlights splashed her looming silhouette against the front of the house, and she shielded her face with one hand as I killed the engine. It was somewhere around 2 a.m., and the street was ominously quiet as I gave Muppet a few reassuring pets. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long �� I wasn’t sure what to expect inside. Blayne had texted me in a panic, saying there was some coked up dude terrorizing her, but she was very specific that she didn’t want me to call the police. I’d dealt with enough conflict in my decade as a lifeguard that I was fairly confident I could sort this out. Though I’d never been much of a fighter, my hippo-like build was known to make smaller men wilt in my presence. My pulse throbbed in my throat, and I took a few deep breaths before opening my door.

“This is the second time this has happened with this fucking asshole,” June said, as I clumped up the driveway in my snow boots.

“Tell your friend she has shitty taste in men.”

I sighed. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“All I know is I was trying to sleep like a normal person and all of a sudden this psycho’s screaming and breaking shit downstairs.”

“Is Blayne okay?”

“Well, she locked herself in the bathroom. I don’t know, beyond that.”

Over the winter months I’d had plenty of opportunities to contemplate the nuances and realities of the mental health crisis. It wasn’t just about the homeless and marginalized; the issue was disturbingly present everywhere. There was a culture of substance abuse in the Kootenays, of excess, and the consequences of that were obvious to anyone paying attention. One woman had come into the Star office with her iPhone-wielding kid in tow to share the story of her husband’s suicide — a subject that was typically verboten in the journalism world. She took me through their 13-year marriage and described a violent downward spiral caused by alcoholism. I eventually turned her story into a column called “One Story of Desperation”.

But it’s one thing to understand these things on a philosophical level, another thing entirely to stare it straight in the face. I stood with June for a few moments, procrastinating, while I imagined the various ways the next few minutes could go. Did this dude have a weapon? Was he looking for a fight? Or would he retreat, embarrassed, when confronted? Blayne had told me his name, but I didn’t recognize it. I didn’t know how old he was, what he looked like, nothing.

“So you’re going in there?”

I took a deep inhale through my nostrils. “Yeah, you’ve got your phone ready? You should wait upstairs. It’s freezing out here.”

“Fuck that. If you’re not out in a couple minutes, I’m calling the cops.”

She turned and walked into her carport, then returned with a red crowbar. She pressed it into my hands with a solemn nod. It was probably overkill, but the cold metal buoyed my courage. I made my way around the side of the house, which had a motion-sensor light that illuminated the snowy walkway that wound around to the backyard. Rock music rattled the windows as I approached Blayne’s door, June following close behind. For a moment I saw us as if we were in a movie scene, ridiculous with our fear. What the hell was I going to do with a crowbar? I felt like Bruce Willis in Pulp Fiction, right before he samurai sworded that rapist to death.

I pushed open the front door with my foot, and the volume of the music became almost deafening — the current track was “Poker Face” by Lady Gaga. I wanna hold 'em like they do in Texas plays. Fold 'em, let 'em, hit me, raise it baby stay with me. The kitchen was deserted, with a few plates stacked next to the sink, then there were some empty beer bottles and a half-full 2-6 of vodka laying on its side. I inched across the tile to the entrance of the living room, beads of sweat collecting in my hairline.

“Who the fuck is this?”

The guy was perfectly framed in the doorway, surrounded by his destruction. Blayne’s coffee table was upside down, a bookshelf was laying on the couch, and he was standing in broken glass. He was young, maybe early 20s, and still had acne dotting his cheeks. The dark circles around his eyes made him look like a drugged-up raccoon. He was pacing in a small circle, sniffling and dragging his hands over his close-shaved mohawk.

“Is this your other boyfriend? Blayne? Who the fuck is this?” he yelled through the bathroom door, which had two or three splintery punch-marks in its paneling.

“You cheating on me with this goof?”

I stepped into the room, letting him see the crowbar, and raised my hand in a reconciliatory, reassuring gesture. I spoke to him in the same tone of voice you might use on a feral animal. I told him I was just a friend, here to make sure Blayne was safe, and I didn’t mean any disrespect. I asked him if we could just take this whole thing down a couple notches.

That’s when he charged.

The music was still going hard: Can't read my, can't read my, no, he can't read my poker face. He took me by the shoulders and we began to spin, awkwardly dancing with our hands on each others’ shoulders. Baby when it’s love if it’s not rough it isn’t fun. I felt the glass crunch, felt my balance go, and then we were tumbling together towards the overturned coffee table. I watched as one of the legs speared into the guy’s lower back, snapping off with the impact, and he screamed out. Somewhere along the way I’d dropped the crowbar. I struggled back to my feet as he writhed on the ground, swearing.

“Listen dude, we don’t need to fight. You just need to get the hell out of here, okay?” I said.

“The landlord’s outside ready to call the cops.”

I watched a series of emotions cross this guy’s face, as he gazed angrily up at the ceiling. He groaned and sat up, glass tinkling off his back, and for a moment it looked like he was going to cry. He gave an exhausted shake of his head, sniffling some more, then glanced over to where I was standing, in the doorway, taking in gulping lungfuls of air. He looked confused.

“You’re the guy from the newspaper,” he said.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you and Blayne, but you need to go home and sober up. You’re not in control of yourself.”

He nodded, suddenly remorseful. “I love her so much. She just drives me crazy, you know?”

I nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Eventually I escorted him out of the house, to where June was still waiting in the cold. She flew up into the guy’s face, emboldened by my presence, and demanded to know if he’d hurt Blayne. She berated him, telling him to never come back, then he apologized under his breath and trudged down the driveway into the darkness. I debriefed with June for a moment, then headed back inside to find Blayne. She was already out of the bathroom, surveying the damage to her living room, wearing only a black sports bra and a high-waisted skirt that showed off the bear tattooed on her thigh. When she saw me she began to cry, apologizing profusely.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” I told her, noticing a small line of blood trickling from her nose. I grabbed her a Kleenex.

“Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head no, told me she’d successfully hidden in the bathroom through the entire encounter. She explained they’d been partying at Spiritbar, with a bunch of their friends, but afterwards he’d accused her of flirting with other men. She tried to argue that they were non-exclusive, and that she could talk to whoever she liked, and that’s when he went batshit.

“Dude’s a piece of shit,” I said. “You’re going to break it off with him?”

“Yeah, I guess I have to.”

Right then I remembered that Muppet was still in the cold car, outside. It had been at least twenty minutes. I was scheduled to work in the morning, and could already tell I wouldn’t be able to sleep properly. Blayne walked me to the door and thanked me again, then I headed downhill the two blocks to my house. I wondered how many scenes like that were occurring behind closed doors in the community. I wanted to hate the volatile kid, to feel tribal solidarity with Blayne, but instead I found myself pitying him. Here was a guy who didn’t know how to properly express his emotions, who clearly had some sort of drug problem, and was he really responsible for his actions? You could make excuses for anybody, really, so where did moral judgement come in? When did empathy end and condemnation begin? Was violence the line?

Whatever the answer, I knew I didn’t want to worry Paisley with all this drama. I’d successfully sneaked out of the house without waking her, and now there was no need to fill her in. As far as I was concerned, some stories were better left untold.

The Kootenay Goon

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taehyungiejiminie95 · 6 years

Text

6 Bullets: Chapter 08

Warnings: Death, violence, blood, suicide, deception, sexual harassment, swearing, angst

Jin takes one step closer to the end of his investigation.

Word count: 4417

Jin’s eyes are slightly glazed as he stares at the small glass display case that was locked away inside the most inconspicuous gap in any wall in this huge mansion. The bullets are polished, and blink at him in the light of the early morning. The numbers are set into it, along with the names of those who they had killed - number 6 beside Park Jimin, number 5 beside Kim Taehyung and number 4 beside Jung Hoseok.

If Jin looks inside himself, he’ll have to face how heartless this is. It’s disgusting and dehumanising to reduce an entire human life to a simple number like this - another tally in his thirst for revenge. But as awful as it, seeing that he’s halfway there heals something inside of him. After his parents deaths, Jin never spoke about it to anyone. He waved therapy in favour of seeming unbothered in front of the business he acquired. Jin learned very quickly how to supress any and all feelings.

It’s not long left until he can finally end this investigation and leave this business. He wants it more than anything.

While Jin loses himself in his thoughts in the way he’s beginning to do far too often, Namjoon comes into the office and stands himself just behind his friend, eyebrows pulled together in a mix of disapproval and confusion,

“I don’t understand you, Jin,” Namjoon sighs. His feelings of uselessness and stupidity are increasing in recent times. He’s here because Jin asked for his help with you coming home at such a crux in his career, but Namjoon knows he isn’t doing as much as he normally would. It’s not that Namjoon doesn’t do a brilliant job, it’s just that Jin doesn’t know who to trust. Namjoon doesn’t really blame him, if he’s being totally honest, “If you told me what you were planning, maybe I could help you,” Namjoon tries, despite knowing that his attempts are completely futile. Jin’s eyes flicker to meet Namjoon’s in the reflection of the glass, and Namjoon thinks he sees unshed tears,

“You’d only try to stop me,” Jin says, voice rough and tired. And with that, Jin’s face changes. His features sharpen and he stands up straighter, smoothing his jacket down. He puts the display case away before sitting down at his desk. Namjoon’s no longer looking at his friend. He’s looking at the boss of the Kim mafia, “Do you have updates on Suga’s movements?” He questions, his tone business-like and professional.

Namjoon wishes he could do that. Just pretend he’s not struggling and become a new person. Namjoon has a mask that he uses, but he doesn’t have the energy when it comes to this. What they did to Suga was inhuman. His husband was murdered, and they dangled that fact in front of him like a carrot in front of a donkey. Jin’s playing with the emotions of his greatest rival, and despite the fact that Namjoon hates him too, he can’t help but have a heart. Suga may have ordered the killing of Jin’s parents, but he’s still human,

“Nobody’s seen him, but he’s expected to turn up soon. Definitely before the end of the day,” Namjoon replies curtly. He’s never voiced his opinion to Jin, but there’s no way he doesn’t know. The two grew up together, learned together and trained together. Jin knows. But unfortunately, Jin can’t make allowances for it. Weakness and vulnerability only make you crazy, lead you to rash decisions. If you internalise it and pretend it’s not there, you can make sound decisions. Namjoon would disagree, especially if he knew what Jin was planning for the future, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters,

“Make sure Y/N is well out of the way when he arrives, and ensure that he comes here first. I won’t lose any more men to him,” Jin says flatly, standing up to gaze out of the window, as if he’s going to see a silhouette crossing the lawn. His eyes revert back to their glazed state as he wonders how long it’ll be. Jin’s so tired. All he wants to do is rest, and get rid of this nagging feeling in his chest that won’t let him stop just yet.

Namjoon doesn’t bother to reply before he leaves. Jin might not even hear it, anyway. He’s been distant lately, as if there’s something he knows that he’s not telling anyone. Namjoon in particular. It shouldn’t be anything new, but it feels different this time. It’s the way that Jin looks at Namjoon sometimes, it’s like his eyes are begging for help, but his face never changes. He’s always wearing a mask.

But two can play at that game, so Namjoon stifles the thoughts. For now, all be has to do is find Jungkook. There are only so many places that he can be at such an early hour.

~~~

After the meeting yesterday, the last thing you wanted was to be alone. Jungkook understood this without even needing to ask, so he just didn’t leave your side. He took you down to dinner at an appropriate time - well, it wasn’t a sit down meal in the dining room like normal, but he did go into the kitchens and persuade the increasingly irritable chefs to let him take your plates through to the cinema room. Once you were in there, he dragged forward a desk from the front of the room to eat off of, wrapped you up in a fluffy blanket and turned on some sweet family films to distract you.

He was half tempted to feed you too, but he didn’t want to take it too far. You didn’t feel like talking much, but mumbled a few words of thanks when Jungkook tucked you up in front of the cinema screen like a little blanket burrito. The dinner was tasteless in your mouth, but the concerned looks that Jungkook kept giving you from the corner of his eye made sure you ate all of it.

The food sat warm in your belly as your eyes drooped, and you found yourself unable to keep yourself awake anymore. With Jungkook’s calming presence right next you, you weren’t as afraid of J-Hope or what he was going to do to you if he had got his hands on you. You were okay because it’s not J-Hope with his hands on you, it’s Jungkook smoothing your hair out and lowering the volume of the film, careful not to make a sound as you fall asleep.

It seems almost familiar as Jungkook carried you to bed, having done it once before not all that long ago. You didn’t stir in his arms this time either, but Jungkook’s was a little clumsy from exhaustion as he tucked the duvet under your neck. At the last second, you manages to fumble for his hand, still not quite ready to be alone. Jungkook understood, so he didn’t leave. He settled down on top of the covers next to you, not dropping your hand for even a second.

When Namjoon couldn’t find Jungkook in the dining hall or his own bedroom, the first place he thought about was your room. You must have been pretty shaken up last night, but Namjoon had been too caught up in himself to come by and check on you. Luckily, it’s clear that Jungkook stayed right there with you to make sure nothing happened to you. When Namjoon comes in, he finds you snuggled into Jungkook as much as you possibly can, one hand resting on his chest and the other holding his hand around your waist. The raven-haired boy’s mouth is open slightly as he snores, and the two of you just look so innocent and… in love.

Finding something so sweet and untainted is so rare in this world that Namjoon can’t help but go all gooey-eyed over it. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you. The two of you didn’t quite hit it off quite right, but Namjoon knows that there are no love stories without bumps in the road. If he could leave the two of you to be like this forever he would. But of course, there are always more pressing matters at hand, like your safety.

Jungkook is roused by a gentle shaking, and someone whispering his name in his ear. His entire body protests as he wakes up, as if begging to live a little longer in the moment. Then he sees Namjoon leaning down over him and he jolts. Jungkook looks to you, and then back to Namjoon. It’s a very compromising position, even though Jungkook isn’t under the covers. The last thing he wants is for Namjoon to get the wrong idea,

“Mr Kim- I- this isn’t what it looks like- I didn’t-“ Jungkook stutters, very formal as he looks up at Namjoon in utter horror. His voice is raspy, but he’s trying to keep it down so you don’t wake up. It takes a few moments for Jungkook to realise that Namjoon doesn’t look mad. In fact, his eyes seem to be almost proud. But before Jungkook has time to dwell on it, Namjoon is speaking,

“I understand, so don’t worry. I also won’t tell Seokjin,” Namjoon says, and Jungkook realises that Namjoon is actually joking with him. Teasing him, like they’re friends. It’s weird but surprisingly welcome. Maybe in another life, they’d be close friends, “But I do need to speak with you soon,”

“She can’t be alone,” Jungkook quickly interjects, eyes wide and serious. If you woke up alone it could really upset you, and Jungkook never wants to see you frown again. Your smile brightens his day, and he’ll do anything to preserve it. Luckily, Namjoon’s not an idiot, and was more than ready for Jungkook to say something like that,

“That’s fine, just take her down to breakfast or up to Seokjin when she wakes up. Then give me a call and we can go from there,” He assures the younger man, who nods gratefully. He won’t try to wake you, so you can just get up on your own terms. After Namjoon’s words register in his mind, his eyes seem to droop almost immediately. He’s tired too, and could use a few more hours of sleep. Namjoon checks his watch with a slight curse - it’s earlier than he thought, so he edges out of the room without another word. Jungkook is snoring again before the door shuts.

~~~

Your eyes open slowly, the sunlight filtering in through your clumsily shut curtains causing you to squint. You go to get up when you realise that you can’t - you’ve trapped yourself under Jungkook’s arms, still clinging to his hand. Jolting back, you wonder if you can get up without waking him. It’s at that moment that you realise you drooled a little onto his shirt, and he’s also awake and looking at you.

The most adorable squeal leaves your mouth, and Jungkook can’t help but smile, eyes tracing over your every feature with a gentle affection. You relax into his arms a little more, especially when his eyes settle on your parted lips, looking slightly hungry. He’s leaning in just a little, and you think he’s going to kiss you. You want him to kiss you, so you lean in too. At the last moment, Jungkook jerks back, thinking better of it. Surely it’s wrong to do this… so why does he want to do it so badly?

You roll away from Jungkook, his grip having loosened when he pulled back. You stretch your arms up over your head and realise how genuinely relaxed you feel. You’re not quite at ease, but you’re far better than you were yesterday. It might have something to do with how last night went, and how understanding Jungkook was, and you’re thankful for that,

“Thanks for taking care of me. I’m just gonna wash my face, I won’t be long,” You tell Jungkook over your shoulder as you head to the bathroom. It seems a little unnecessary to thank him (he’ll already know you appreciate it) but you worry that if you don’t say something, you’ll both dwell on that moment. Jungkook didn’t want to kiss you, and that’s fine. You won’t let it get between such a pure friendship.

You’re dressed and washed, and about halfway through brushing your teeth when Jungkook walks into the bathroom with a wide grin. He gets a new toothbrush down from the cabinet above your sink and starts brushing his teeth too. It’s just an innocent and domestic moment - even more so if you cast you mind back to the day before - that a smile matching Jungkook forces its way onto your face. This, of course, makes it very difficult to brush your teeth,

“I’ll take you up to Seokjin’s office if you’re ready. I think he wants to spend some time with you,” Jungkook tells you a few minutes later. Your relationship with your brother has been volatile at best since you arrived back here, so you’re not sure if it’ll do more harm than good spending time with him. But, there’s a chance it’ll make things better so you’re willing to take the chance. The only issue is what Jungkook’s wearing,

“That’s fine, but don’t you wanna change first? What will everyone think if you leave my room wearing the same clothes that you did yesterday?” You tease, pulling at the shirt that Jungkook’s got on. Looking down, he sees that you do have a point. His clothes are wrinkled and he could probably use a shower too, so he agrees,

“I think you’re right, the men in this place are worse than housewives when it comes to gossip!”

Jungkook’s room is on the floor below yours - it’s not as grand or elaborate, but it’s comfortable. The walls are a shade of beige that match the curtains and the bedsheets, and the furniture is all very modest. His bathroom only has a toilet, sink, and shower. You think up to your en suite, with it’s expensive touches and huge hot-tub-slash-bathtub, and wonder if Jungkook thinks you’re spoiled for having what must be one of the best kept rooms in the mansion without working for it.

There aren’t any personal touches at all, apart from his slightly messy bed and a battered old photo on his bedside table. It’s been folded too many times, the colour is fading and it has no frame, but it’s still a sweet picture. It’s of a young couple with a small toddler with a bunny-like grin plastered on his chubby face sat between them. The child’s hands are raised towards the camera, like he’s trying to grab it from across the room,

“That’s me with my parents. It’s my second birthday,” Jungkook supplies you with the identities of those in the photo when he comes out of the bathroom to see you holding it. You look up to ask him a question, but you have to tear your gaze away quickly. He’s not put a shirt on yet, so you can’t let yourself look too long and risk drooling over his shirtless body. You didn’t realise he worked out so much, but he must do to look like that.

Jungkook pulls on a simple white t-shirt, dressing a little more casual today. He still tucks it into his slacks though, before telling you that he’s ready to go. His hair is still a little damp from the shower (and thus unstyled) but it actually quite suits him.

Once you reach the stairs up to the security door that protects Jin’s offices, you tell Jungkook that you’ll be okay from there. He looks uneasy about sending you off on your own, but you’re not a baby. You can walk a few metres without a big strong man to hold your hand. Regardless, he still waits for the security door to close behind you before turning away and phoning Namjoon, as he was told to do at an ungodly hour that morning. He says he’s down by the kitchens, and asks Jungkook to hurry. There’s no teasing tone to his voice as there was earlier.

Jungkook takes the stairs two at a time, but still meets Namjoon with a slightly disapproving expression. The younger of the two thinks a smile suits him better, but that would only be for the kind of Namjoon that doesn’t work in the mafia,

“Is Y/N with Jin?” Namjoon asks, and Jungkook nods curtly, sensing the tense atmosphere in the mansion, “Then we don’t have much time. I probably should’ve asked you to bring her to me instead, but what’s done is done,” Namjoon sighs, running a hand through his already dishevelled hair. He doesn’t look even nearly as composed as he did earlier, “I’ll bring you up to speed. Yesterday, J-Hope was shot and killed, and his body was sent back to Suga. It’s expected that he will turn up soon to… express his anger,” Namjoon says. He doesn’t totally understand it all either, since Jin’s explanation was vague and hurried, but in this world you don’t really need to understand things, you just need to accept them, “So I need you to keep Y/N out of sight. Seokjin is likely his target, but his sister will work just fine,”

Jungkook can feel the familiar sickening nerves bubble up in his stomach, but he knows he’ll keep you safe so he just nods, assuring Namjoon of what he already knows Jungkook will say. He’ll make sure nothing happens to you. After ensuring Jungkook knows that Suga’s arrival is seriously imminent, he sends him off to wait by the security door for Jin to send you out. Namjoon watches Jungkook hurry off, the back of his t-shirt slightly wet from the water dripping off of his hair. That boy really does care about you, and you care about him. It’s sweet, but Namjoon wonders if he’s quite right for you. Something about Jungkook isn’t entirely honest.

~~~

In the office, Jin seems on edge as he scrambles around to find something to talk to you about. He realises that he doesn’t know much about you anymore, and is surprised that you seem perfectly happy to wander around his office while he works. You feel awkward too, but you’re just better at hiding it. You find yourself in front of the locked cabinet as you often do when you’re in here, and Jin spots something he can talk about. His investigation,

“Do you want to have a look?” He offers, and you nod in response. The pinboard hidden behind the locked doors is as messy as ever, and you trace your fingers over the string and look at the pictures. There are so many that you don’t get a chance to look at them all before your eyes fall onto a blank polaroid photo, with the word ‘unknown’ scrawled in Jin’s handwriting along the bottom. You point to it and ask what he means. Jin’s jaw tics before he answers, not quite meeting your eyes, “I know there’s one more person involved, but I don’t know who it is yet. Hopefully I’ll find out soon,” He tells you rather cryptically. You’re just about to ask one of your thousands of questions when Jin’s phone buzzes. You wait patiently for him to text back, but he just takes one look before pocketing the phone,

“What’s going on?” You ask nervously, when Jin quickly locks the cabinet back up and pockets the key once more. Jin’s voice is low and fast as he tells you that you have to leave as quickly as possible, giving you no room to protest. You try your absolute best not to give in, but Jin’s hands are firm on your shoulders as he all but pushes you out of the office and down the hall. Maybe you should start working out with the recruits so he can’t do this in future. You want to put your foot down and demand answers, but you really can’t.

You basically tumble into Jungkook’s arms when the security door opens and Jin gives you a final shove. You take the chance to turn back and chew him out, but you close your mouth when you see his face. In just moments, he’s transformed from your composed older brother to a man in a panic, skin flushed as he tells Jungkook that ‘he’s here’ and ‘you need to hide her’,

“Y/N!” Jungkook all but shouts, pulling you to face him, eyes just as wild and desperate as Jin’s, “You need to come with me right now, please don’t argue, just do it,” He says, nodding to Jin before the older man retreats back through the security door, not closing it. You notice for the first time that there’s no guard stationed there. You’ve only ever seen that once before, and that was when Jimin was killed. That’s not a good sign.

Jungkook is struggling to hurry you through the halls. He wanted to take you to a panic room where the other workers are, but after checking his watch he realises he has no time. When Suga arrived, Jungkook was told he had no more than three minutes to hide you. It’s already been two, and the panic room is too far to reach. He will not chance Suga seeing you. He knows your face. J-Hope saw you on your first day here,

“In here,” Jungkook hisses, followed up with a few curses. He’s opened a door in the wall and is hurriedly ushering you in, dark eyes darting all over the place. It’s dark and smelly in this room, and also incredibly cramped. You huff and ask what Jungkook’s problem is. You were fine this morning, but now he’s shoving you in closets and swearing? It doesn’t make any sense, and you hate feeling helpless, “Please be quiet. There’s an unwelcome visitor that might want to see you, so you need to stay safe. Trust me,” He whispers in your ear, voice slightly less harsh now you’re hidden away. You huff again, leaning your head onto Jungkook’s chest. You want to complain, but it’s best to stay silent.

~~~

Jin’s stood by the open window, eyes hard as he looks over the grounds of the empire his father built during his life. It’s times like this that Jin wonders how many times he nearly died before he actually did, but his father was never as problematic as his son turned out to be. Jin’s life is only being threatened because he’s looking for answers some people don’t want him to have. And to be fair, he really did poke the hornets nest with Suga. Not the best idea. He can feel a slight breeze on the back of his neck, since he left the security door open. His phone buzzes - it’s Namjoon. Everyone is out of sight, but Suga is making his way to the main offices. Maybe a smarter man wouldn’t go where he’s obviously being herded, but Suga’s not smart at the moment. Grief is a powerful drug, and Suga’s high on it. Jin’s shoulders tense as he waits, but he doesn’t turn around. This is all about appearances, and he must stay composed. It will only serve for a grander finale. He hears heavy footsteps behind him, followed by a growl. Suga’s here,

“Hide all your little workers from me?” Suga goads, stepping into the office. Jin’s domain, “What’s wrong? Afraid of danger all of a sudden?” Jin laughs slowly. His mask comes down, and he’s no longer Jin. He’s Kim Seokjin, Boss of the Kim Mafia,

“Not in the slightest. I just know what grief does to a man. I gave you some payback. You killed my parents, and I killed your husband. Must have been awful to see him like that. Dead. Past saving,” Jin says, voice lithe and provoking. Suga all but howls, pushing the barrel of his gun to Jin’s forehead. The older of the two doesn’t even flinch, continuing his well-rehearsed speech. He’s always wanted to break Suga like this, especially after the part he played in the assassination, “That’s how I felt when I found my parents. Like you, seeing little Hobi killed by me,” Jin’s voice rises to a growl, and tears start to drip down Suga’s face. He’s shaking, “Do it. Shoot me. End it,” Jin goads, and part of him means it.

But, of course, survival instincts kick in. Suga’s thumb goes to flick off the safety mechanism, and Jin’s hand comes up. His palm hits Suga’s nose, possibly breaking it, and it gives him time to knock the gun out of his hand, sending it crashing into the glass-covered bookcase. It shatters it, and it shatters Suga’ last shred of composure with it. Jin punches him once more in the face, sending him to the floor. The blonde haired man is broken beyond repair, so he doesn’t even try to get up. Hoseok’s gone, and it hurts so badly,

“On your knees,” Jin orders, grabbing the revolver from where it was placed under his desk. Easy access, and all that. Yoongi gets onto his knees, shoulders shaking not from tears, but from laughter. He’s as crazy as his husband was. Like Jin, he doesn’t flinch at the feeling of a barrel against his forehead,

“You can kill me if you want. I don’t care. You’ll be searching forever, never knowing when your investigation is over. You’ll drive yourself crazy, because you have no idea how many people were involved,” He laughs, volume rising exponentially. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard, but it doesn’t take Jin much to silence the grieving man,

“You’re wrong,” He sneers, and the smirk falls from Suga’s face. Jin smiles wickedly as he continues, “I know all about your magic number. I know everything about you, and your little spy Jimin couldn’t tell you that, could he?” Jin demands, lips curling back. He can feel his finger twitching. He wants this over, “I know you, Yoongi. You won’t beg for your life, but you regret coming here. You won’t die as Suga, the great mafia boss. You’ll die as Min Yoongi, the widowed husband who came looking for a fight,”

The trigger is pulled, and Yoongi falls to the floor, no longer smirking. He’s died as nothing more than a simple number,

“Three,”

#bts #bts mafia au #bts angst #bts fluff #6 bullets

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inkynyarutherford · 6 years

Text

Trying out this Mass Effect Creative Circle prompt. I saw what it was and I was inspired. I don’t think I’ve ever posted my own fiction on here before, so here goes.

When You Wish Upon a Star

True to her word, Commander Alyson Shepard turned herself into the Alliance military after she and her crew successfully returned from the Omega 4 Relay. But not before they stopped off at the Citadel so that her compatriots could get out of dodge. Technically speaking, Shepard was the only one at risk of sanction for her actions. However, given her last words to The Illusive Man and her friends’ decision to stand with her choice, they were all in a fair amount of danger. “Let me go with you. I can speak to them. Tell them you had no choice.” Garrus lifted a taloned hand to her face and gazed into her eyes. It was one of the rare moments that he had removed his visor, but if this was to be his last viewing of her face for the foreseeable future, he didn’t want it obscured. They were laying intertwined together on her bed, and he was silently pleading that the impending buzz of the alarm would never go off. Neither had slept on their final night together, knowing that Shepard’s choices may separate them for a while. She smiled, a goofy grin trying to hide her pain, and her fear. “Nah, I’ll be alright. What’s the worst they can do to me?”

“Well, I know the Alliance doesn’t execute people... but there were a lot of Batarians at the Alpha Relay. They might make an exception.” The turian looked past her and got lost in his head. He knew how things would be dealt with in a turian military court. A hearing would be held, and evidence presented. If the evidence proved that Shepard had done all she could do to save the most people she could, the case would be dismissed, and she would probably get a medal of valor. But the Alliance military had this desire to save everyone, no matter what. They had trouble accepting the fact that sometimes, there must be a sacrifice made for the greater good of all. There was a fair chance the hearing would not go in her favor, and with the magnitude of lives lost when the Alpha Relay was destroyed, Garrus had no idea what the Alliance would do to her. Shepard shook her head and shrugged. “So? I’ve already died once.” Garrus sat up and his mandibles flared. He knew she was trying to ease the tension they were both feeling. But her glibness infuriated him. “Alyson, this is serious. The Reapers are coming and you’re likely to be court-martialed, or worse, just as they are knocking on our door! You cannot sit there and act like this is not a serious situation. Please, don’t act like you are not important… to the galaxy. And especially to me.” His admonition made her face fall. She buried her head into the crook of her elbow, and at first Garrus thought she was pouting. Until he noticed the slow, metered rise and fall of her shoulder; a tell-tale sign that she was trying to hold something in. Trying not to cry. Feeling guilty for upsetting her, he grasped the offending shoulders, hoisted her into his lap and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were swollen and wet, but her cheeks were not. She’d managed to stave off the waterworks, but she was clearly troubled. He cradled her curled formed against his chest, and they sat in silence until the tranquility was pierced by the blast of the alarm. Before she unraveled herself from him, Alyson placed a meaningful kiss on his scarred cheek. She rose from the bed and walked toward the steps leading up to where she would shower, most likely for the last time as a free woman. “I’ve only ever done what I thought was best for the most people. We’re at war, whether the Alliance or The Council, or anyone else wants to admit it. I have to fight that war.” She turned around and looked at the turian. “I can only hope they know what I did was me trying to save the most people. If they don’t... I don’t know Garrus.” She shook her head and just looked longingly at him. If there was anything he could do, he hoped she knew he would do it. Right now, she just needed him to be by her side. He nodded, resigned as she was that there was nothing more they could have done. “I know...” Six Months Later Garrus was standing on Menae, watching as wave after wave of Reapers descended on the moon, and the planet it orbited. It had been radio silence from both Shepard and the Alliance about her status, and all he could do was pray that Liara’s intel was true. According to the Shadow Broker, Shepard had been in solitary; not court-martialed but stripped of her rank and under house arrest on Earth. Then the Reapers came and all communication from Earth stopped. Garrus sat alone on an outcropping watching the hulking machines stomp their way across the rocky terrain of Palaven’s moon. They had been fighting all day, but there seemed now to be a lull in the onslaught, so he took the opportunity to get his bearings, and take a short breather. His eyes followed the silhouette of one of the behemoths skyward, struck by the sheer magnitude of them. He had been in the military long enough to know that there was no strategy that would help them with the Reapers. They were a brutally destructive force, the likes of which the turian home world had never seen. There were no tactics to make this even survivable, let alone winnable. As he sat stewing in his own thoughts, a flash of light caught his eye. His gaze moved to follow it and he saw it was a falling meteor. He smiled, remembering what Alyson had once said about them.

* * * * * * * * * * “Oh! It’s a shooting star.” She had said.

“What? No that’s just a meteor falling.”

“Yes, thank you. I know it’s a meteor, but back before our species knew about such things, they were called falling stars. If you saw one light up the night sky, you were supposed to make a wish.” Garrus had balked at the fact that the great Commander Shepard would find fascination with primitive myths and legends. But when he looked at her, she had her eyes closed. Then they opened, and her eyes met his, before looking back at the starry sky. He chuckled and jokingly asked her, “So did you just make a wish?”

“Shut up.”

He was taken aback. “You did! You subscribe to that superstitious nonsense?”

She shoved him and shook her head, looking back toward where the meteor had flared. “There’s a lot of bad in the galaxy Garrus. Sometimes it’s nice to believe in something...bigger.” He had not thought of that. He had been a gruff, duty bound turian for so long, he had forgotten what it was like to have an imagination. To look at something not for just what it was, but what it could be. “I guess you’re right Shepard.” He had wondered that night what her wish had been. Later, before they finally hit the Omega 4 Relay on their suicide mission, she told him that she had wished for him to always be by her side, no matter what came next. * * * * * * * * * * So, looking up at the sea of stars, Garrus Vakarian made a wish. “Spirits or stars or anyone who’s listening. I wish that Alyson is safe. I wish that wherever she is, she’s not helpless, hopeless or in danger. Please, just let her be alright.” The turian sighed and continued to peer into the vastness beyond the moon and the Reapers. Twinkling balls of light that looked so beautiful from far away. Nothing like the fireballs they really were. I wonder if she can see the stars right now. As if in answer to his silent question, he heard his comm start to pick up static and voices. The tower had been down for a few hours, he was glad the forward camp was finally making some headway. “General, do you read? The comm tower is now operational.” He knew that voice. It was a female and not turian. “Much appreciated Commander. I’ll contact Palaven Command.” Commander. “I knew it. It’s Shepard.” Garrus grabbed his gear and made a beeline for the forward camp. Now that he had heard her voice, he had to see her. Had to make sure she was real and really there. He listened into the comm chatter waiting to hear her voice again. “Commander Shepard come in” It was Corinthus. He seemed to be holding their position well. Garrus was certain he was grateful for Shepard to show up.

“Copy General, go ahead.”

“I have information from Palaven Command. Please return ASAP.”

“Affirmative. On our way.”

The path to the barricade had never seemed longer. Now that he was looking forward to getting there, it felt like it took an eternity to navigate the crannies and ledges. But finally, he reached the door and the young soldier standing guard saluted and lowered the gate. Garrus did not know if he could ever get used to so many people looking up to him. He strode into the camp and saw that Shepard had not come alone. Liara meandered around poking at a data pad. She looked up and smiled her coy smile before nodding and looking back down at her secrets. A large human male stood near the asari checking over his rifle. Garrus did not recognize him, but he had an amiable, albeit gruff, looking face. He also nodded at the turian as he walked by. Then he saw her, standing with her helmet off talking to the turian General. Her short blonde bob stood out brightly against the darkness of the nighttime and the steely exterior of basically everything on the moon.

“... as long as they can get us the turian resources we need.”

Garrus shot a quick eye up to the stars and with a silent thank you, walked up the ramp to see his wish come true, face to face.

#mecc #masseffectcreativecircle #mass effect creative circle #femshepxgarrus #garrus vakarian #stargazing #mass effect 3 #mass effect 2 #mass effect hell #longish post #fanfic

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