#I’m not even making sense I’m inconsolable I’m supposed to be working I can’t think. I can’t think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hansomeskz · 11 months

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The 30th

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Minho groans to himself, curling his fingers a little tighter around the steering wheel as all the cars at a complete standstill try to make room for the ambulance barreling down the shoulder.

It was obvious something had happened, the highway is rarely ever this backed up at seven pm, but Minho can’t help but be annoyed. He hasn’t moved in what feels like forever.

He glances down to check and see if Jisung had texted him back, their conversation from earlier today is still open on his phone.

Hannie

It sounds like I’m gonna be home first tonight!!

I’ll make us something

Orrrr order in…

I don’t want to cook

Minho

I don’t mind take out

What are you thinking about ordering baby?

Hannie

You were supposed to pick so I don’t have to make any decisions :(

Worst boyfriend ever :,(

Minho

Let’s get pizza.

We can eat something greasy and watch a movie.

Hannie

Sounds divine!!

Pep pep okay or are you in the mood for something else??

Minho

Maybe meat lovers?

I don’t know, what are you in the mood for?

Can we get cheesy bread?

He hasn’t heard from him since. Minho wonders if maybe he just picked something and ordered, or if he fell asleep the second he got home.

Jisung has been tired lately so it wouldn’t really surprise him at all if he walked in to find him knocked out on the couch with the delivery app open.

The traffic is getting moved to a detour, Minho realizes, and he cranes his neck to see if he can spot the accident. He can’t see much except glass and metal scattered across the empty expanse a few dozen feet ahead, the emergency vehicles are in the way of everything else.

He tries to search up what may have happened, but the accident seems so fresh that it hasn’t made any news, yet.

Minho

There’s an accident on the highway

Traffic is so fucked

I might be a bit later than I expected.

When his messages go undelivered, he assumes Jisung’s phone finally died. He curses the way that boy never charges the damn thing.

It takes him an hour longer than it usually would for Minho to get home. When he does, he's met with utter confusion. Jisung’s car isn’t in the driveway.

He heads inside, calling out for his boyfriend. He’s met with silence, so he checks all the places he can think of. Every room in the house is just as Minho left it when he left for work this morning.

As the panic starts to grow in his chest, his ringtone cuts through the unusual silence. It’s Jisung’s mom.

“Hello?” He presses the phone tightly to his ear, being met with only wracking sobs on the other side. “What’s going on?”

“Minho, there’s been an accident. You need to get to the hospital as soon as you can.” He’s never heard anyone cry as hard as she is, tears pooling in his own eyes, too.

“What happened?”

“Please, come.” He hears the line go dead.

Minho rushes out without a second thought, grateful he sees no cops on his way there to stop him from speeding.

When he bursts into the waiting room, Jisung’s mom, Iseul, and older brother, Doyeon, are huddled together. His mom is inconsolable, face buried in Doyeon’s shoulder.

“What happened?” Minho asks again as he sits on Iseul’s other side. His heart is in his throat and he feels like he’s suffocating, now.

“There was an accident on the highway today,” Doyeon starts, taking a deep breath. “Minho…he’s really hurt. They have him in surgery now, but they don’t know if he’ll even wake up after. He’s been unconscious since they found him.”

Minho’s heart plummets down into his stomach. Tears prick at his eyes as he tries to make sense of the words.

“I-I don’t understand. We were just talking a few hours ago. He was okay.” Tears start to spill over as his shoulders shake. “I just thought he was sleeping at home.”

A sob tears through his chest, unexpected and unwelcome.

Iseul pries herself away from Doyeon to cling to Minho instead. He pulls her close, burying his face in her hair as they cry together.

Minho has never known this kind of hurt.

They don’t speak another word until a doctor comes out to address them.

He stands in front of them and tries to fill them in but Minho feels like the doctor is speaking in another language. He’s able to pick out bits and pieces, enough to collect that Jisung is alive, but still unconscious.

The accident, it seems, was so bad that he needed to have several fractures surgically set. They aren’t sure of the extent of Jisung’s brain damage. It seems like he’ll recover but they won’t know unless he wakes up.

They let the three of them into the room, but Minho can’t bring himself to step inside. He doesn’t want to know the severity of the situation.

A few minutes later, Doyeon steps back out and offers both of his hands to Minho, pulling him inside when he takes them. His knees nearly give out when his eyes land on Jisung.

Jisung. His Jisung. He looks so unfamiliar here. His usually bright, brilliant smile and his wide, curious eyes are nowhere to be seen. He would look peaceful were it not for the tubes going down his nose or the IVs taped into him. His leg is propped up, ankle already set in a plaster cast. Minho’s stomach churns.

As he steps closer, shaking, he takes in the rest of the damage.

It looks to him like Jisung slid down the asphalt. His left side is scraped up in a way Minho could never describe, slices scattered in from the glass shards he’d seen when he was driving past.

When he takes the younger boy’s hand, intertwining their fingers, he’s disappointed to realize Jisung can’t hold him back.

The tears start up all over again and his knees finally give out. Minho presses his face into the side of the hospital bed, keeping Jisung’s hand in his own.

Apologies are tumbling past his lips at lightning speed, but Minho doesn’t even know what he’s sorry for. He’s sorry to Jisung that he wasn’t there. Sorry he didn’t know. Sorry he didn’t tell the younger boy he loves him countless times before he left this morning. Sorry he didn’t realize the wreck he’d been annoyed about was him.

He’s sorry to Jisung’s family for making this about him. Sorry to Doyeon for having to take care of him, and sorry to Iseul that her son might never wake up. Sorry to God for whatever Minho did to have him deserve this kind of pain.

Doyeon kneels next to Minho, rubbing small comforting circles into his back. Jisung’s mom pulls up a chair next to the bed, holding Jisung’s other hand.

When his legs feel a bit more solid, Minho stands. Doyeon pushes a chair closer for him, patting his back before excusing himself to go get everyone something to drink.

Nobody says a word. What do you even say in a moment like this? The two of them sniffle together, watching over Jisung as if they could do anything to protect him.

Doyeon makes them both drink some water when he comes back. Minho feels like he’s watching himself through somebody else’s eyes, sure that this can’t be real. Maybe it’s all a terrible dream.

He wants nothing more than to wake up in his bed next to a fluffy blond mop of hair or to wake up at his desk and drive straight home to the love of his life.

He knows that’s not possible, though.

A doctor comes in quite a bit later, clearing her throat. “You know, most times comatose patients can still hear the world around them. I don’t know if it offers you any comfort, but if you have anything you’d like to say to him, I think it might be worth a try,” she says softly. “Thank you, doctor.” Doyeon smiles lightly at her, placing a hand on his mom’s shoulder.

The doctor checks some vitals and makes some notes in Jisung’s file before excusing herself again. When Iseul starts to speak to her youngest son, Minho has to leave. She talks to him like he’s dead, and that’s not something Minho is willing to think about right now.

He wanders through the hallways for a while, his bottle of water in hand. He feels strangely comforted by the background noises of the hospital. It reminds him that he isn’t the only one feeling like this right now.

Then he remembers their friends.

Minho’s stomach twists at the idea of having to tell everybody. He knows the right thing to do would be to call each of them but he’s not sure he could get himself to say the words out loud at all, let alone 6 times. He pulls out his phone and shoots off text after text, having to break it up so it seems less serious. Less real.

Minho

guys

im sorry to have to text this

jisung’s been in a really bad accident.

he’s comatose, in really bad shape.

they say they think he’ll be okay but anything could happen I guess

no visitors tonight please but we can arrange something

starting tomorrow if you guys want to see him

Felix

fuck.

are you serious?

Seungmin

Holy shit.

Jeongin

??????

Hyunjin

please tell me you’re kidding

Changbin

Minho I’m so sorry

Are you okay??

A call from Chan comes through pretty quickly. Minho hesitates but picks up after a few rings. “Hey…”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Minho says quietly, voice shaking. “Yeah, I’m serious. I wish I were kidding. I keep hoping this is some sick fucking joke.”

“Shit, Min. I’m so sorry. How are you feeling?”

Minho knows Chan is asking as a kind gesture, but the question bothers him so much. Of course he isn’t feeling good about it, but that shouldn’t matter. What matters is Jisung and the fact that he might never wake up.

His snappy comments die in his throat, though. They morph into a choked sob, sounding so broken and animalistic that it surprises even himself. He’s already tired of crying. “I’m so fucking scared, Chan.”

“I bet, Minho. Can I pick you up tonight?”

“I don’t know if I can bring myself to leave.”

“You’ll get kicked out eventually. I’ll be in the waiting room, okay?”

Minho considers arguing, lashing out at Chan because somebody has to suffer with him. He thinks better of it, though. He knows all of their friends are hurting right now. “Okay… thank you.”

“Of course. See you soon.”

Minho hangs up, heading back for Jisung’s room.

When he steps in, Jisung’s family are gathering their things. “We were just going to call you. They’re asking us to leave, but visiting hours start again at eight.”

Minho’s chest aches, but he nods. “I’m just going to say goodbye quickly. I have somebody coming to pick me up, so I’ll see you guys tomorrow, I guess.”

“See you, honey.” Iseul gives him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek before leaving, misty-eyed.

Once the room is empty, he slowly turns to Jisung. “What a mess, Hannie… I’ll only be gone a few hours, okay?” He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to the blond’s forehead. His heart breaks a little when Jisung doesn’t react, even if Minho knows he can’t.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t miss me too much, okay?” He laces their fingers together long enough to press a kiss to Jisung’s knuckles before placing his hand back down gently and stepping out of the room.

Chan is already there when he steps into the waiting room. As Minho approaches him, he looks up from his phone, standing quickly.

Minho is grateful for the bone-crushing hug Chan gives him, tears pooling in his eyes for what feels like the millionth time tonight.

“Minho, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You didn’t hit him, don’t be sorry.” Minho is trying to joke, but neither of them laughs. Chan just pulls away, looking at him with glossy eyes. “Do you want to stay with me tonight? We can stop by yours and pick up some clothes. Maybe you can take a shower and then we can sleep at mine, yeah?”

Minho just nods weakly, grateful that Chan always knows what to do.

When they get home he does shower, pretends for a moment that it’s Jisung waiting for him in the living room instead of Chan. When he gets dressed he throws on one of his boyfriend’s hoodies and sprays his cologne, hoping the blond won’t mind when he finds the bottle a little emptier if he ever comes home.

He packs himself a bag of things he knows he’ll need, then joins Chan out in the living room.

The older boy is just texting, standing when he spots Minho. “Ready?”

“No,” he sighs, looking around. “But I won’t ever be. Let’s just go.”

Chan leads them out to the car, letting Minho pick the music for the trip. Minho is doing a good job at keeping it together until Chan taps the wheel gently, glancing over at him. “We can stop and pick up pizza for dinner. I bet you haven’t eaten.”

Something inside Minho breaks for the millionth time today as he bursts into tears. Chan visibly panics, turning his eyes back to the road. “It doesn’t have to be pizza, fuck, do you hate pizza?”

“We were supposed to have pizza tonight,” he cries, burying his face in his hands. “He was going to order it when he got home, be he never fucking got home.”

Chan frowns but he doesn’t respond. Minho doesn’t blame him for a second because really, what can you say? He just sits in the passenger seat and cries his eyes out. The older boy gets them McDonald’s instead.

Chan sets him up in his room, putting the food in the fridge for later when Minho refuses it. He plugs in Minho’s phone and computer for him and leaves a hot tea on the bedside table along with a glass of water. “I’ll be on the couch if you need absolutely anything, Minho. Don’t be afraid to come get me.”

“Thank you, Chan.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Min.” Chan ruffles the brunet’s hair gently before stepping out. Minho sets an alarm for 7 so he can be there the second visiting hours start.

It goes without saying, but Minho doesn’t sleep much that night. The few minutes he does get are restless, the idea of receiving a call that something’s gone wrong haunting him.

When his alarm goes off he climbs out of bed quickly, packing his things back into his bag. He is quick to run down the stairs despite knowing it’s no more than a ten-minute drive back to the hospital.

It takes a few tries but he gets Chan up, letting him know they have to leave at quarter to eight. Chan groggily agrees, going off to shower.

As he waits for the older boy he scrolls through the group chat to see what he’s missed.

Chan

I’m on my way to pick Minho up from the hospital now.

He’s staying with me tonight.

Felix

let me know if there’s any way I can help!!!!!!

Changbin

And let us know when we’re allowed to visit.

Hyunjin

He was serious?

This can’t be happening.

Seungmin

Just keep us posted.

Minho

You guys can visit today.

Three visitor maximum but I doubt his family will be there all day today.

They both have crazy work schedules

I’ll be there all day though

You guys can take turns.

Starts at 8 ends at 10.

Jeongin

We’ll all be there today!!!!!!!!!!!

Felix

How are you feeling min?

Minho

You’re not going to believe this.

I feel like utter shit

Seungmin

Truly shocking!

But seriously, let us know what we can do to help Minho.

Hyunjin

Any food you’re craving

Minho

I feel like I’m going to throw up.

Changbin

We’ll bring you something anyway

Chan

No pizza.

Minho looks up from his phone, spotting Chan coming down the stairs. “Yeah, that’s fair,” he says quietly.

Chan offers him a small smile. “I was hoping you’d get a kick out of that.”

“You’re usually not funny, but I’ll give you this one because I… I really need it.” Minho glances down as his phone lights up with more messages from his friends, but he slips his phone into his pocket so he doesn’t have to think about them.

“Ready to go?” Chan asks. Minho slings his bag over his shoulder, nodding.

The nurses are kind enough to let them into the room a few minutes early.

As they step in, Minho’s heart breaks all over again. The scrapes and scratches down the side of Jisung’s face look agitated, as if they’ve just been cleaned, but he looks as peaceful as ever. “Good morning, baby. I brought Chan with me, I think the rest of them are coming by later.”

Chan looks at Minho like he’s crazy as the brunet gets himself situated, pulling a chair right up to Jisung’s bedside and taking his hand. “A doctor said that he can hear us… she said it might help if we talk to him.” Minho kisses Jisung’s knuckles tenderly, watching him.

Chan nods softly, pulling up a chair on the other side of the bed. “Then… hi, Hannie. This is such a weird way to see you. I don’t think you’ve ever been quiet this long in your fucking life.” The older boy ruffles Jisung’s hair back down onto his forehead from where the nurses had pushed it back overnight.

“There, that looks a little better,” Chan says quietly, leaning against the edge of the bed.

Minho inspects the injuries to the blond’s face a bit closer, frowning. He looks at Chan, his chest aching. “You know, I drove past the car wreck on my way home from work. I didn’t even… I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Well, why would you, Minho? You can’t assume every car wreck is somebody you know.”

“I just remember being annoyed at the traffic it caused. I keep thinking about how he’d feel bad if he knew they’d closed off a whole section of the highway for it,” Minho chokes out a humourless laugh. “He’d probably apologize for making me get home late...”

“He would,” Chan shakes his head a bit, gazing down at Jisung. “I bet you feel bad you’re causing us stress too, huh? You’re going to wake up and apologize for all the trouble, I can feel it.”

“Oh, he sure fucking will,” Minho says, squeezing the younger boy’s hand gently. “Won’t you, baby?” He presses another kiss to his knuckles.

They fall silent for a moment, just watching him. Jisung is unmoving, no sign of waking up. It breaks Minho’s heart to see him like this.

Jisung’s mom steps in wearing her work uniform. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to visit before I go.”

“I’m surprised they’re making you work,” Chan says, raising his eyebrows. “There’s nobody to cover my shifts, I have to go in…”

She slips in next to Minho, leaning down to kiss Jisung’s forehead. “I love you Jisung. Get better soon, I already miss you.” She strokes his cheek gently, sighing before heading back for the door.

“Call me if anything happens,” Iseul says to Minho. He nods. “Of course. You know I will.”

“I know. Make sure you eat something, sweetheart.” She waves before heading on her way, and then they’re alone again.

Chan’s phone rings shortly after, alerting them of the arrival of their friends. He goes to collect them, leaving Minho on his own.

He takes the few seconds he has to be a little sappier than he could with somebody else around, cupping Jisung’s cheek gently and kissing his temple.

“I need you to wake up, okay? I can’t do this without you, so you have to fucking wake up.” He presses his lips to the blonde’s forehead, too. “I’m not doing this shit on my own, do you understand?”

Minho might see the corner of Jisung’s mouth quirk up ever so slightly, but he’s probably imagining it.

Hyunjin and Felix step into the room as Minho pulls away, clasping Jisung’s hand between both of his own.

“Hey…” Hyunjin says quietly, sliding into the empty chair across from him. Felix comes around behind Minho, rubbing his shoulders gently.

They both stare at Jisung, lost for words.

“He can hear you,” Minho suggests, pausing for a second to reconsider his words.

“Or- the doctor says he can. Maybe she was just trying to make me feel better…” he trails off, wondering how many more times he’ll have to say those words today.

The next few hours drag on, their friends taking turns coming in and talking to Jisung. Minho stays in his seat for hours, slowly choking up with every word uttered in his direction.

By the time Changbin steps in, Minho’s hit his emotional limits. He’s the last one to show up, a container of fried rice in hand. “I know you’re not going to eat it, but I brought this for you anyway.”

He puts the container on a table nearby before slipping into the empty chair across from him. “You know, Hannie, this is fucked up of you.”

Minho’s eyes go wide, a shocked laugh pushing past his lips. “Changbin!”

“No, it’s fucked up!” Changbin is smiling lightly, raising his eyebrows. “You’re pulling all the weight here as a host, he’s just laying there looking all broken and shit.”

Minho covers his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter. He knew Changbin would be the one to help take his mind off of this shitty situation. He’s a breath of fresh air compared to the others.

“You’re awful, Changbin,” he scolds playfully, squeezing Jisung’s hand.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure that’s the first smile you’re cracked since the news broke so if that’s what it takes, I’ll be awful.”

Minho is so grateful to have him here.

“Do you want me to come back and pick you up tonight?”

“Please.”

“Yeah, you got it.” Changbin pats Jisung’s shoulder. “I’m coming for your man, Han. Watch your fuckin’ back.” Changbin pushes himself out of the chair.

“I won’t take up too much of your time, Min. Just wanted to get a peek. He looks pretty fucked up in the whole…” He gestures vaguely to the entirety of Jisung. “This region.”

Minho shakes his head, fixing the blond’s hair tenderly. “Don’t be mean, he looks handsome.”

“If he really can hear us, it’s fucked up of you to lie to him.”

The brunet laughs, rolling his eyes. “Get out of here before I beat your ass, Changbin.”

“I’ll be back at ten to pick you up, okay?”

“Okay, thank you.”

“‘Course, Min.” He steps out after that.

Minho feels lucky to have his friends. He appreciates how quickly they all dropped everything to come to see them. Even though his chest aches at the idea that the focus isn’t entirely on Jisung, he’s grateful they’re worried about him too.

With the pressure of hosting their friends gone, he pulls out his laptop and adjusts his chair, propping his feet up on the edge of the bed. He feels a little silly as he rests Jisung’s hand on his ankle.

He puts on one of the blond’s favourite playlists and takes some time to answer a few work emails, letting his boss know he’ll be out of the office for the next little while. He sings quietly to the songs, wondering if it helps Jisung at all to hear it

At nine he gives himself a full hour to just hold Jisung’s hand and whisper sweet nothings to him. He presses gentle kisses all up the blond’s scabby, cut-up arm, eyes brimming with tears for almost the whole time. He wonders if the scrapes from the asphalt hurt, even if the younger boy is unconscious.

Ten PM arrives too quickly and a nurse drops by to let Minho know visiting hours are over. He thanks her quietly and collects his things, kissing Jisung on the forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, baby. Be good for the doctors, okay?” He lingers for a moment in hopes he’ll answer but he obviously doesn’t.

When he meets Changbin in the lobby, the younger boy slings an arm around Minho’s shoulders. “Did you eat any of the food I brought?”

“I feel like I’m going to hurl.”

“What if we drink a little and eat some snacks? Chips and shit?”

“Yeah, Okay. That sounds good.” Minho knows it’s probably a bad idea, but he’d do anything to stop thinking about all of this for one singular second.

Changbin hands him a beer once they’re both settled at his place. “So like, seriously, how are you holding up?” He places a bowl of kettle corn in front of Minho on the table, which he reluctantly picks at.

“This is so fucked, man. I don’t know if I even really understand what’s happening, yet. I just know that I can’t text him, and I can’t have a conversation with him. I just know I woke up alone this morning. I can only hope I don’t have to keep doing that.”

“He’s going to be fine. Jisung is the strongest, dumbest whore I know. The world couldn’t continue to spin without his dumbassery,” Changbin says simply, taking a long sip of his drink.

Minho’s eyes fill with tears and he stares up at the ceiling in an attempt to will them away.

“It’s okay to cry about it, you know. This is hard.”

“I cried from the second I got to the fucking hospital yesterday, I’m sick of it.” Minho squeezes his eyes shut, a few rogue tears rolling down his cheeks. Changbin gently wipes them away.

“Can you thank everybody for coming out today? I can’t look at the group chat for too long. It just… feels like somebody’s missing.” Minho sniffs, sipping on his beer, he’s barely had any but his skin is already starting to heat up. The only benefit to his inability to eat, he thinks.

“Of course, Min. I’ll let them know you were glad to see everyone.” Changbin puts on a movie for them to watch, taking the pressure off Minho to speak anymore. The beer and exhaustion start to catch up to him as he sinks deeper into the couch cushions, his eyes slipping shut every few seconds. Changbin just leaves him be.

He does end up falling asleep, waking up panicked a few hours later. He scrambled up into a sitting position, desperately grabbing for his phone. When the screen lights up, he’s relieved to see he has no new notifications.

He looks around to try and ground himself, only calming down when he spots Changbin asleep on the other end of the couch.

Minho feels a little stupid as he shuffles across the couch to curl up against Changbin. The dark-haired boy is startled at first, lifting his head to look around quickly before he realizes what’s happening.

He makes a sleepy sound and pats his leg, resting his head back against the couch. Minho is grateful as he rests his head on Changbin’s lap.

The younger boy tangles his fingers into Minho’s hair, rubbing his scalp gently. It helps calm him down enough for him to fall back to sleep.

When morning comes, Changbin’s the one who wakes him up. Minho pushes himself up, blearily looking at the raven-haired boy.

“It’s seven-thirty. We should leave soon if you want to get there right on time,” he says quietly. Minho just nods and gathers his things.

They’re both quiet on the ride to the hospital. Every time Minho feels suffocated by the silence, Changbin pats his knee gently and suddenly everything feels a bit better.

The younger boy follows him into Jisung’s hospital room, much like Chan did the day before.

“Good morning, honey,” Minho coos, cupping the blond’s cheeks and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m happy to see you.”

He takes his usual seat and clasps his boyfriend's hand between both of his own as Changbin takes the empty chair across from him.

Changbin leans forward to get a better look at the damage to Jisung’s face. “This is fucking brutal. Did they slide him across sandpaper for good measure?”

“They won’t tell me how he got so fucked up, I’ve asked. He’s got titanium plates on a few of his ribs, too. I’m surprised he’s not more fucked up considering the state he’s in..” Minho squeezes his hand gently.

“I’m glad he’s not worse than this, this is already hard to look at.”

“Yeah, I agree.” The two fall silent after that. Minho is grateful for Changbin’s companionship in moments like these.

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Changbin looks at him, breathing out a soft “hey…” and offering him the box of tissues from a nearby table. Minho takes it, plucking one out and dabbing at his eyes. “Sorry, I just…”

“You don’t have to apologize. This isn’t easy, Min.”

“I just miss his voice, that’s all,” he cries. He thinks he must be imagining the small twitches in Jisung’s hand, mistaking the shakes of his own shoulders as movement in his boyfriend’s body.

Changbin comes around to his side of the bed, rubbing Minho’s shoulders much like Felix did the day before. “I know, Minho. It’s going to be okay.” He stands like that for a long time before he finally excuses himself to get them both some water.

Minho kicks him out soon after he gets back, completely dissolved into tears. Changbin looks like he doesn’t want to leave him alone, but does as he’s asked anyway. “I’m only a call away,” he says on his way out.

He feels so fucking pathetic. Minho’s never had such a terrible grasp on his emotions. He used to be the rock for his friends and for Jisung, but he can’t even begin to be there for anyone else right now when he feels so fully and completely devastated.

Sobs wrack his body for what feels like hours as he clings to Jisung’s hand, pressing his forehead against it. He doesn’t know how to make this helpless feeling go away.

Usually, he’d have something terrible happen and go straight to Jisung. The blond would know just what to do to make it all feel better, but he can’t ask him to fix it now.

The nurses must hear him and take pity because a pair of them step in with some snacks from their kitchen and a cup of iced water. One slips back out of the room quietly, but the other crouches next to Minho, looking up at him warmly. He sits up, feeling like a kid as his bottom lip trembles.

She takes one of his hands, squeezing gently. “He’s on track to get better, you know. It can be scary, having to sit in the ICU with him, but he’s doing a lot better. He’s responding to some sensations.”

“Responding?” Minho sniffs, squeezing her hand, too. She nods.

“Sometimes when you perform an act that might be uncomfortable for him, like poking the bottom of his foot with a needle or touching part of his body that hurts, he might slightly move that part of his body, or… you might see his face twitch. He doesn’t have full control since his body is still asleep, he’s in and out of consciousness right now, but it’s a really good sign.”

Hope blooms in Minho’s chest at the idea that Jisung is already getting better. “Okay,” he says quietly, nodding more to himself than anything. “That’s good.”

“Maybe look for meaning in his little twitches. They might be more telling than you think.” She pushes herself up, patting his back. “And drink some water, you’ll get dehydrated if you don’t, and then you’ll both be in the hospital. That won’t be much help at all.”

She excuses herself after that, but Minho is grateful she came by. He scoops Jisung’s hand back into his own, sniffling.

For the next few days, Minho falls into a routine. His friends and Jisung’s family show up when they can, but Minho stays there all day every single day. He’ll work for a couple of hours on his laptop, playing music he knows Jisung loves, and then he spends the rest of his visiting hours searching for meaning in every little twitch in Jisung’s body.

He notices when Changbin’s around the corners of his lips quirk up ever so slightly at the terrible jokes.

He notices the longer exhale and the slight tension in his eyebrows when Jisung’s brother accidentally places a hand on his rib cage.

He notices that when he cries, the younger boy’s fingers twitch more often.

All of these small movements pay off on day five, while Jeongin and Minho are eating lunch.

“God, shut up Jeongin. Jisung, tell him he’s being annoying,” Minho playfully snaps, the way he scowls at the youngest boy nearly causing him to miss the flutter of Jisung’s eyes, a small groan escaping his lips.

The two of them look at each other, eyes blown wide. Minho puts his food down, scooping up the blond’s hand. “Hannie, can you hear me?”

Minho’s heart leaps into his throat as he feels his boyfriend’s hand twitch and watches his eyes flutter, once, then twice, lips moving as if he’s trying to speak.

Jeongin is quick to press the nurse call button, letting them know what’s going on as Minho leans further over the bed.

“Jisungie, baby, honey, you’re doing so good. Keep going, keep talking to me,” Minho says, choking up. He reaches a hand out to cup the blond’s cheek, his pooling tears spilling over as Jisung leans into his touch a little, eyes slowly peeling open.

The words the younger boy is saying don’t make sense, he’s babbling as he comes out of it, but Minho is smiling like he’s just heard Jisung propose. He’s nodding enthusiastically, trying to stop the tears but he’s just so fucking relieved to see Jisung’s wide doe eyes.

“That’s it, baby. I hear you, I fucking hear you.” He pulls away, stepping aside to let the doctors in around him. Jeongin signals that he’s going to call the others and Minho nods. “His mom, call his mom first.”

Jeongin nods, shooting him a thumbs up before darting out of the room.

Minho watches in a mixture of relief and horror as Jisung comes out of the coma, his confusion morphing into pure frustration. After a few minutes of Jisung thrashing, trying to ground himself, the nurse from a few days before ushers Minho out. “Somebody will come to get you from the waiting room once we’ve had the chance to assess him, okay?”

The brunet nods, his tears refusing to stop rolling down his cheeks. “Okay- yeah, okay, thank you.”

He meets Jeongin in the waiting room and sits with him, feeling more and more nauseous as more of his friends arrive.

Iseul and Doyeon are last to arrive, both clad in their work uniforms. Once everybody’s there he fills them in, rubbing his forehead. He’s exhausted, he thinks. Tired, scared, and so annoyed that Jisung’s family wasn’t there when he woke up.

That bothers him the most, he thinks. He spent the past five days completely and fully dedicated to Jisung, knowing he could have died at any moment. That he still could. The idea that he only saw them two or three times throughout the stay so far makes him fucking livid.

He wonders if Chan can read his mind as the oldest boy rests a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head softly. He doesn’t have to speak for Minho to hear what he’s saying. It’s not worth it right now.

They all just sit around staring at each other as they wait for any updates at all. Minho starts dry heaving after an hour of no word.

Finally, finally, a doctor comes out to address them. The doctor looks exasperated. “Lee Minho,” he says, sighing. “He won’t talk to us without you in the room.”

He can feel eight pairs of eyes burning into his back as he numbly follows the doctor down the hall.

When he steps in, Jisung’s eyes find him immediately. “Min- min, please, what’s going on?” The blond’s eyes are brimming with tears, his voice hoarse.

“You’re in the hospital, Ji.” Minho settles on the edge of the bed, lacing their fingers together, he ignores the way Jisung winces as he moves his arm in favour of letting the younger squeeze his hand tightly.

“What happened?”

“You were in an accident. I-I’m sorry, I don’t really know the details.” Minho presses his lips together in a thin line, trying his best to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

“Can you tell us what you remember, Mr.Han?”

“I-I don’t… I was driving, and this guy was up my ass, and then… “ he furrows his brows, knowing he’s missing a critical piece of the story. “And then I was here. I’m sorry, I don’t know anything else.” He looks up at the doctors, sniffling.

Minho gently brushes the blond’s tears away.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so good for us. Thank you.” He presses a tender kiss to the younger boy’s forehead, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Jisung squeezes back, firm and present. Minho missed that feeling.

The doctors continue their assessment with Jisung more willing to participate now that Minho’s present.

Once they’ve run all the tests that they can right now they let them know the visitors can see him one at a time. They amend the rule shortly after, when Minho tries to leave to let the others in and Jisung visibly panics, his heart rate skyrocketing.

The blond makes room for Minho to sit right next to him against the doctor's orders, but the brunet truly doesn’t give a shit about that right now. He squeezes into the space, careful not to bump Jisung, and holds his hand as tight as the younger boy will let him.

He sits through all eight of their friends and Jisung’s family’s visits with the younger boy. His mom cries, apologizing for things that are beyond her control. It makes Jisung cry, too.

Jisung seems surprised to see Doyeon and they end up just mindlessly chattering about nothing related to the hospital visit. Minho’s grateful for that, to be honest.

Their friends each tease Jisung, because of course he’s the one that would get into an accident. They each finish off with their own sappy little sentiment, mostly just glad to see he’s okay.

When the two finally get a second alone, Jisung tries to turn to Minho. The older boy is quick to move, carefully straddling his legs instead. “You can’t turn like that, your ribs are so fucked baby.”

Jisung coughs a little, nodding slightly. “I noticed.”

“How are you feeling?” He cups the younger boy’s cheeks, planting quick kisses all over his face. Jisung smiles weakly, whining a bit.

“I heard you while I was asleep. Minho. It was so terrifying to be aware of everything happening around me but not being able to tell you I was there.” Tears are pooling in Jisung’s eyes again. He tries to blink them away, but it does nothing but force them out, trickling slowly down his cheeks.

“I could hear you crying and you kept apologizing, but I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t tell you that you have nothing to be sorry for.” Jisung’s shaky hands come up to rest on Minho’s chest. The older boy’s short shallow breaths give away that he’s trying not to cry.

Jisung presses their forehead together, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m the one who’s sorry,” he says, voice breaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you pizza for dinner like I promised. I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful. I’m sorry you’ve been doing this all on your own…”

Minho shakes his head, failing miserably to choke back the pathetic sobs that are fighting to escape him.

“You did nothing wrong, Hannie. I’m just glad you’re okay. I missed you, missed your voice, fuck, I wish I could hug you right now…”

He gasps when Jisung throws his arms around Minho. The younger groans quietly in pain but buries his face in Minho’s neck anyway. “Hurts so good, Min. I wanted to do this the whole fucking time I was out.”

Minho lets it happen for a little bit, having missed his touch too much to tell him no. When he decides he’s had his fill for now the older boy carefully pulls away, squeezing back into the spot beside the blond.

They sit together for hours, whispering apologies and stories of what either of them remember from the past few days. When a nurse comes in to let them know visiting hours are over, Jisung starts to panic again.

Minho runs a hand through his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be back right at eight. That’s not even twelve hours away. Just get some rest, baby.” He peels himself away from the younger boy, climbing out of bed.

Jisung just looks up at him with his stupid doe eyes, looking absolutely terrified. “You really have to go?”

“I’ll be back before you know it, Hannie. I promise. You can text me, too. I promise I’ll answer as long as I’m awake.”

“Okay, Minho…” Jisung shoots him a puppy dog look but the brunet averts his eyes, knowing they both really need some rest. “I love you, Ji.”

“I love you too, Min. I’ll see you at eight?”

“Not a second later.” He offers Jisung a smile on his way out, making his way out to his car.

It still sits where he left it when he first arrived almost a week ago. His friends had been so insistent on taking care of him that he’d never gotten the chance to take it home.

Minho strips and crawls into bed the second he gets through his front door. He’s just settling in when his phone vibrates on the table next to him.

Hannie

That text was about me wasn’t it :(((

I’m the accident on the highway :((((((((

How late did you get home that night??????

Minho

Don’t worry about it.

Hannie

Half an hour?

Minho

…

Hannie

LONGER?????

I’m the worsttttttttt :((((((((((((((((

I’m sorry I know how tired you get after work!!

Minho

Seems unimportant now.

Why aren’t you sleeping?

Hannie

Somebody down the hall has what the nurses are referring to as “the night screams”

Minho

Be nice to Agatha she’s really nice :(

Hannie

Can you ask her to stop screaming my head hurts x

Minho

I’ll let her know, baby.

Your headphones are in the bag I left by your bed!

I just remembered

Sorry, I should’ve told you sooner

Hannie

I owe you my life.

Goodnight baby

I’ll see you tomorrow <3 :D

Minho

Sleep tight honey.

Minho gets a few hours of restless sleep, waking up before the sun comes up to another million texts from Jisung.

Hannie

Shut the fuck up I did not call u the worst boyfriend ever like an hour before I almost died.

I am a monster

For the record you are the best boyfriend in the world

I’m so lucky to have you.

The nurses were telling me about how you only left me when you had to.

And how everyone would come visit you.

We’re really lucky to have our friends.

I’m so grateful for all of you.

Thank you for being so amazing.

I hope you’re sleeping well

And I hope I’m not waking you up with all these texts!!!

was just feeling a little mushy

Had to share

Love you baby

See you in a couple hours.

Minho

Did you even sleep at all?

Hannie

I just slept for like 5 days !!!!!!!!!!!!

You won’t believe this but I’m not sleepy

Minho

I don’t believe it

Hannie

What about you, huh?????????

You DIDNT sleep for 5 days

What are you doing awake

Minho

I just can’t stop thinking about you

Like genuinely.

I’m so happy you’re finally awake.

I am counting the seconds until they let me back in

Not to be sappy

Hannie

NoT tO bE sApPy

Asshole

Now I’m crying

[picture]

I can’t wait to see you

we can nap once you get here <3

Minho laughs a little at the selfie Jisung sends. He looks exhausted but he’s put on a pout for the photo, tears rolling down his cheeks. He texts the younger boy something about him being too soft when he’s drugged up before he hops in the shower.

He takes his time washing his hair and puts extra care into drying and styling it once he’s out. He puts on his favourite cologne and one of his nicer sweaters, a little embarrassed to be dressing up when he knows Jisung won’t care at all. This just feels important to him.

The nurses let him into Jisung’s room five full minutes early and he is quick to crawl into bed with the younger boy.

Jisung smiles tiredly at him and gets comfy. Minho lays on his side so he can admire him, gently tracing his fingers over any cuts and scrapes he can see.

“Does it hurt?” He asks quietly. Jisung shakes his head softly, turning his head to look at Minho. “Not really but I’m also on a ton of drugs right now.”

The brunet laughs. “Yeah, that’s fair enough.”

Jisung keeps true to his word about napping together, dozing off not long after that.

Even though Minho was convinced he couldn’t fall asleep for fear of hurting Jisung, exhaustion must take over at some point.

The next thing he knows, he’s starting to stir, becoming aware of the hushed voices next to him.

As his eyes focus on Jisung sitting up next to him, the second voice stops suddenly.

“Oh- sorry Min, I hope we didn’t wake you…” Felix says, smiling sheepishly as the older boy locks eyes with him

Minho grumbles a little, rubbing at his eyes as Jisung laughs at him. “You’re such a baby when you first wake up,” he mumbles, rubbing gentle circles into the brunet’s scalp.

Minho could fall asleep again, especially with the blond massaging his scalp like this, but he knows better than to waste a second that he has with Jisung. He slowly pushes himself up, hugging his knees to his chest.

“All good?” Jisung asks, keeping his hand tangled in Minho’s hair. He nods softly, smiling tiredly at Jisung. He smiles back before going back to his conversation with Felix.

Minho isn’t really listening, just admiring his boyfriend. He thinks about how grateful he is that the younger boy is still here, still somebody he can watch, somebody he can speak to.

Felix is the first one to realize Minho is crying, just handing a tissue over while he giggles about something Jisung said to him.

The blond turns to look at Minho, cooing softly as he plucks the tissue out of his hand to wipe away the older boy’s years himself. “Now what could you possibly be crying about?”

He doesn’t quite know how to answer that. He just knows he’s happy he doesn’t have something more to cry about. They have a long road ahead until it’s all back to how it was, but he’s fucking lucky Jisung is sitting up next to him.

A few months later, long after Jisung finished his physical therapy, after the world started spinning like normal, the two boys find themselves sitting around a table with their closest friends.

They’re on the patio of a restaurant in Paris, somewhere Jisung has always wanted to go but they’d never thought to make the time for before this.

Minho clears his throat suddenly, standing. A hush falls over the table, Jisung eyeing him warily. “I have something to say, guys. It’s going to be really sappy, so if you aren’t ready to hear it, get the fuck out.”

Jisung makes a move to stand and leave, a cheeky grin creeping over his face. Seungmin tugs him back into his seat. Seven of the people at this table know what’s coming.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about all of you, and how lucky I am to have you guys. I really can’t imagine a better group of people to spend my life with.” He’s smiling brightly, ignoring the way his hands shake.

Jisung’s eyes go wide as the older boy turns to him. “And you… I realized after your accident that I can’t bear to live a second without you. We’re already inseparable, but it’s starting to feel like not even that is enough.”

The younger boy is already tearing up, Minho’s next move is obvious to him, he’s sure.

The brunet pulls a velvet box out of his pocket, opening it as he kneels down. “Han Jisung, I can’t live another second knowing you’re not my husband. Please, I’m begging-“

“You don’t have to beg,” Jisung interrupts, one fat tear rolling down his cheek.

“Don’t interrupt, asshole,” Changbin barks. Everyone around them laughs.

Minho clears his throat again, continuing as if he hadn’t heard any of that. “I’m begging you to marry me.”

“Minho-of course. Obviously. No fucking shit.” Jisung throws himself down at the older boy, knocking them over as he presses their lips together in pure desperation.

Minho laughs into the kiss, blindly feeling for the younger boy’s hand before he slips the ring onto his finger.

It takes two of their friends to peel the two apart, lifting them off of the ground before they get carried away.

A few months ago Minho was scared shitless that he’d lose the love of his life, now he’s doing everything he can to pull him closer. He doesn’t want to know a second without this man.

As the sun disappears beneath the horizon. The eight of them chatter excitedly about wedding plans. There’s no other life Minho wants to live than this one.

#minsung #lee know #lee #know #lee minho #minho #han jisung #han #jisung #stray kids #skz #fic #minsung fic #sad #car accident #hospital

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fluffallamaful · 1 year

Note

They decide to give Dream back his eggs anyway.

Their comfort tickles worked a little bit, but only a little and only for a bit. Slugs or not, Dream is clearly desperate to reunite with his…children? Whatever they are to him, it’s clear that they’re precious. And so they eventually decide that — the eggs aren’t theirs to dispose of. So someone brings them back, and Dream grabs them and chases off the guard and starts tucking them back in his nest. Nobody can get close anymore: Dream starts growling at anyone who so much approaches the cobblestone bridge, and will attack any who dare to try and cross it into his cell.

But the eggs are still unfertilized, and nothing can be done about that. They were all doomed from the start. They rot, and they die, and Dream still cares for them even as they fester in his nest. But eventually they crumble and turn to ash, and then they’re gone.

For weeks after that, the prisoner is inconsolable. First he wails for days, with these heartbreaking screeches that echo through the halls. But eventually he goes quiet and just…sits. He doesn’t eat, or prowl, or do anything really. He just sits in his nest and watches miserably as the lava bubbles under his cell.

And they can’t leave him like THIS. So they start brainstorming. And that’s how they all find themselves carrying very special gifts across the bridge.

Dream doesn’t even react until the four of them are right by his nest, at which point he weakly hisses a warning but does nothing else. They all watch, and then each one of them slowly set down they bags and carefully pull out each of their offerings, setting them down one at a time.

They’re eggs.

And now Dream looks interested.

They all back away, holding their breath. And for the first time in days the prisoner moves.

He sniffs the eggs. His eyes dart from them to the guards. He’s thinking. And then he sweeps them all up and tucks them into his nest, glaring at the guards as if they’re going to take them away from him. They don’t: they back away with their hands raised in surrender, and even back off across the bridge. Dream watches them go curiously — but then he looks back at his eggs — his brand new cluster of eggs — and doesn’t really care anymore.

YES YES YES SURROGATE EGGS!!!!

NAW HES SO CUTE!! he gets to be reunited with his dud eggs 😭 what an emotional rollercoaster for him poor babbyyyyyy 😭

i’m very excited to see were you’re going with thiiissss~ what’s inside the egggss~ 😍

im going to take this moment to tell an anecdote about my own chickens, because i feel it’s relevant (undercut):

🦙🦙🦙anecdote start …

every couple of years, we’ll get a chicken that goes broody (wants to be a mother) at the perfect moment. it’s not too hot, it’s not too cold, she’s picked her time to start sitting on eggs perfectly 🙌🏼

during the time in which she’s waiting for her babies to hatch, she’ll go through this funny fake-parenthood stage, as though she’s practicing. she’ll share all her food she’s given (to imaginary babies), she’ll randomly deem you as a threat and peck you, she’ll hold out her wings to protect the babies from scary things around her. she just appears batshit insane. but it’s beautiful. her instincts are going wild.

interestingly enough though, we don’t actually have a rooster. so no matter how long my baby-craving hen sits on her eggs for, they just simply won’t hatch. there is no male to fertilise.

but she doesn’t know that, and nor does she care. she’ll lose over a a third of her body weight waiting for her babies to hatch if i’m not careful (you’re supposed to kick them off but i always feel too awful doing that lmao. i just make sure she’s eating and whatnot)

HOWEVER. if the timing is right, and i sense that she’s going to be a dedicated mother. then i will buy her day old babies, and i will swap out her unfertilised eggs with the babies at night while she’s more relaxed.

it’s often a terrifying process. last time i took her her the eggs before giving her the babies and she pecked the fuck out of me. like i had so many bruises lmao she HUrT. but then once i let her be she settled comfortably into motherhood, and is still nurturing her babies 11 weeks later :,) (they’re only like 7 weeks here)

🦙🦙🦙anecdote end…

ahywaayyyyy i’m sure you can see some parallels here 👀😭 with my chicken and soup!dream

#llama asks #soup the destroyer #Soups Dream Egg AU

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missywritesfor7 · 7 months

Text

🌺 Promise Flower | PJM 🌺

Synopsis: Jimin is a popular dance student and the best one at his university. Mina is a photography student and has known Jimin since high school. An idea for a photo project finds Mina getting closer to him than she ever has before. She learns how big his heart is, but also learns how closely he guards it. Every time she thinks he'll let her in, he pulls away again. Is it even worth the trouble?

Pairing: college student!Jimin x fem!oc

Warnings: depression, anxiety, panic attacks, alcoholism

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|| Ch. 23: A Very Strong Thing ||

I’m not ok. I don’t know what ok is anymore. I messed up so bad. Jimin, my Jimin, walked out of here near tears last night and it’s all my fault. There’s so many things I did and didn’t do. So many things I said and didn’t say. Now my heart is shattered knowing I had every opportunity to avoid hurting the one person who means the world to me. I wish I could take it back.

I didn’t sleep much last night. I spent most of the time crying. My head hurts and I can’t go a few minutes at a time without crying more. I really fucked up.

Tae comes over and I consider not answering the door until I remember that we were going to work on our assignments together. I haven’t told him about last night but as soon as he sees my face when I open the door he instantly knows something is wrong.

“You look awful, what happened?” He asks pulling me by my arm to the couch.

“I messed up,” I say trying to hold back tears. “I messed up so bad. You were right, I should’ve been direct with Jimin but I wasn’t sure how. Then last night everything boiled over and I yelled at him. I didn’t really mean to, but it was already too late. I hurt him and I don’t know what to do now.” My tears begin falling and I lose my composure. I’m inconsolable despite Tae’s attempts to get me to calm down and breathe.

“Try to take it easy,” he says hugging me. “Have you tried to talk to him again since then?”

“No. He probably doesn’t want to talk to me. He probably doesn’t even want to be with me anymore. I didn’t want to hurt him.” My tears begin to flow even heavier and it’s a miracle I even have any tears left.

“I know you didn’t want to hurt him. That’s why you need to talk to him now more than ever. He’s an understanding person, right? You have to explain how you feel to him.”

“I don’t know how I feel,” I sigh. “I don’t know how to put it into words. I don’t even know how to make my feelings make sense. All I know is my heart is in so much pain right now. I know that knowing I hurt him makes me feel like the worst person on the planet. I know that the thought of losing him is unbearable. Tae, I don’t know what I feel, I just know that it hurts so fucking much.”

“Do you love him?” He asks softly.

Love? What the fuck is love? I love a lot of people. I love my parents, I love Tae and Jin and all my friends.

“Are you in love with him?” He reiterates.

That’s even more confusing. How do I answer that? I don’t even know what the answer is.

“Tae, I don’t even know what that means.” Tears are still streaming down my face. “How am I supposed to know?”

“You just know,” he says with a shrug. “Only you would know.”

“Do you love Taylor?”

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

“How do you know?”

“I just listen to my heart.”

Right, what a novel and cliche concept. Listen to my heart. At the moment my heart only knows pain.

We spend more time sitting on the couch while I cry off and on, and I forget we’re supposed to be working on our projects. I start off taking photos of Tae since I’m not feeling up to being in front of the camera right now.

When I finish shooting a roll of film under his direction, he takes my camera to get photos of me. I tell him I really don’t want to right now. My eyes are terribly red and puffy, there’s no way I’m going to let him take pictures of me. Of course he’s persistent and begins taking photos of me anyway. He claims there’s a solemn beauty in capturing sadness. I don’t like the idea of being the sad subject, but I tell him if he can make me look good at least take the pictures candidly. I’m definitely not in the mood to pose for photos.

He stays over through half the day until Jin comes home from whoever’s place he crashed at last night, usually either with JK or Namjoon. He makes us lunch and I have to go through my entire story of last night when he realizes I look terrible and asks me what’s wrong.

“Why are you still here?” Jin asks. “You should be talking to Jimin right now!”

“I know I know, I just don’t know what to say to fix it,” I say.

“It doesn’t matter,” he scolds. “You just need to go over there and talk to him! If it hurts you this much, and I know it’s probably hurting him too so you need to be with him working it out right now.”

“I tried to tell her,” Tae chimes in. “It’s like trying to get through to a toddler.”

“You’re not helping,” I say rolling my eyes.

“But I’m right.”

“He is,” Jin says. “What you do is ultimately up to you, but if you really want to fix it then you just need to go talk to him and not let another day pass without doing so.”

The two of them continue on telling me how much I need to talk to Jimin sooner rather than later. I feel like I’m being beat down although I know that’s not what their intentions are. Still, I know they’re right. I messed this up and I need to fix it.

Tae finally gets ready to head back home, but he throws a pair of my shoes towards me and drags me outside with him.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he takes me to his car.

“I’m taking you to fix this,” he says starting the car. “But,” he pauses. “If you don’t want to fix things with Jimin just tell me and you can go back inside.” He looks at me with his eyebrow raised waiting for a response.

“I…” I hesitate. Yes I want to fix things, more than anything I want to fix it, but I’m afraid. I take a deep breath knowing I can’t say no right now. I have to do this, even if I don’t know the words to say I still have to try. I have to ease his pain and mine. “Ok. You’re right. I have to fix this.”

“That’s what I thought.” He pulls out of his parking spot and drives me across the street to Jimin’s apartment.

“Just be honest with him. Tell him how you really feel,” Tae says.

I silently nod and step out of the car with my heart beating out of my chest. I’ve never been more nervous to knock on his door. Tae pulls off and I can only hope Jimin doesn’t reject me otherwise I’ll be walking back home.

But I have to do this.

I knock lightly on the door and wait a few seconds which feels like an eternity for the door to open. Hoseok is standing there and after taking one good look at me his face twists into a sympathetic frown. I’m pretty sure Jimin has already told him about last night.

“He’s in his room,” he says softly letting me inside.

I slowly walk to Jimin’s room where his door is wide open. He’s laying on his bed looking at his phone and doesn’t make a move. Either he doesn’t notice me or he’s ignoring me. I knock on his door frame to catch his attention. He looks up at me briefly then back at his phone without a word.

I deserve that. It hurts like hell, but I deserve it.

“Hey,” I say softly after a bit of hesitation. “I wanted to talk to you. I know you probably hate me so if you don’t want to see me right now I can go.”

A moment passes then he sits up and silently nods signaling me to come in. I shut the door behind me and sit at the side of his bed turning to face him. I’m so nervous and the way he’s looking at me makes me shiver. He looks emotionless and cold, but despite all of that I can see the hurt in his eyes. I can see the traces of the tears he’s shed and the lack of sleep encasing his eyes in dark shadows.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” I begin. I don’t have a plan or some prepared speech. All I can do is just open my mouth and hope the words that fly out make some sort of sense.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you like that last night. I’ve just been really stressed out and down about my class and everything and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I know you were only trying to help. You didn’t deserve any of that. I should have talked to you like an adult instead of blowing up in your face. Jimin, I’m really sorry for everything.”

He remains unmoved. His facial expression unchanging and he says nothing. My heart breaks a little more with each second of silence that passes. I think I may not have said enough. I know I haven’t said enough. In this moment I can’t hold back, and although that seems extremely difficult I open my mouth and force myself to simply let it all out. Everything I think and feel is free to come out of my mouth in hopes that it’ll be enough to get him to not hate me.

“Truth is,” I continue. “I’ve been really depressed and when I am I just need to be alone a bit. That’s just how I’m able to cope. I could have told you that from the start but I didn’t and that’s all my fault. You didn’t know that and I shouldn’t have expected you to read my mind. I shouldn’t have assumed that you would magically know exactly what I wanted, and I definitely shouldn’t have gotten upset with you for not knowing. I know I hurt you, and knowing that I hurt you hurts me. Jiminie it hurts me more than I ever thought I would hurt and I’m so so sorry.”

I can see his eyes getting shaky and he’s biting his lip but still remains silent. His silence is suffocating and I’m desperately trying to find air as I fight my tears.

No holding back.

“I don’t want you to feel like you did anything wrong and I definitely don’t want you to feel like I don’t want you around. You’re my comfort, my safe place, my happiness. Even when I need space to take care of my mental well being I still like knowing that I have you by my side. I know there’s probably nothing I can say that will be enough, but I’m trying. I’ll do anything for you. Anything to make this better. If I have to walk to the end of the earth I will. Your pain is my pain and I’ll crawl to the fucking sun if it would make you happy. Anything you ask me to I’ll do it.” I’m nearly out of breath as I spew out all the word vomit my tongue can produce.

“You’d do anything?” He asks breaking his silence. He leans forward with his gaze softening a touch. “Why?”

“Why?” I’ll be honest I wasn’t expecting him to ask me why. “I…I don’t really know why exactly, I just know that I would. I know that I live for your smile and I would die if it meant you would never feel pain again. Fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying. None of this makes sense, I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I did, I’m sorry for being a complete mess. I’m sorry for being terrible at communicating. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for making you feel bad for wanting to help me feel better about my stupid fucking photo class. I’m sorry for being the absolute worst girlfriend. If you don’t want to be with me anymore I don’t blame you, I just want you to know how sorry I am.”

“I…never said any of that,” he whispers. “I never said you were the worst girlfriend and I never said I didn’t want to be with you anymore.”

“You don’t have to say it,” I sigh letting my tears roll down my cheeks. “I was terrible to you last night. The way I tried to brush you off all night up until the end, you deserve better than that.”

“Did you just come over here to beat yourself up?” He sounds like he’s ready to scold me, yet his voice is still soft.

“No. I mean I don’t know. I don’t really know what to say so I’m just babbling through my tears hoping that what I say makes some kind of sense. I’m sorry I’m so bad at this, I’m not good with words and that’s how I got myself in this mess to begin with.”

“You still sound like you’re beating yourself up.”

“I don’t know what else to say. I just know I’m hurting. I’m hurting so bad because of the way I yelled at you. I just want you to forgive me.” My tears have gone from lightly rolling down my cheeks to a full downpour. I can barely see at this point through the never ending flow.

“Mina,” he sighs. “You’re right that what you said last night hurt me. It hurt a lot because I thought I was doing everything I could to help you feel better. I realize I can be a bit overbearing and for that I’m sorry. Seeing you unhappy hurts me, but listening to you beat yourself up over everything hurts me more. I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I strain to say through my sobs. I’m shattered into pieces right now. He should be yelling at me. He should be unleashing frustration on me the way I did, the way I deserve, yet he’s speaking to me softly. For some reason that breaks me even more. He truly is an angel.

“I’m sorry too,” he says biting his lip that’s beginning to quiver.

“Why?” I ask shaking my head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Everything is my fault.”

“Stop,” he says as a tear makes its way down his cheek. “I’m at fault too. I’m sorry for being so overbearing. I wish I knew how to make you happy but that’s all I seem to know how to do, I just didn’t realize it was making things worse.” His breath hitches and the stream of his tears is starting to match mine.

“Jimin, baby, you make me so happy. You always do. You have no idea how happy you make me.”

“But you weren’t happy last night.” He reaches his hand out to me as if he’s unsure if I would want him touch me. It’s like he’s asking permission to comfort me. “What am I supposed to do if I can’t make you happy?”

“I just want you to be there, babe.” I reach out and hold his outstretched hand. “That’s all I need from you.”

I move myself closer to him on the bed and cradle his face in my hands. We’re looking into each other’s eyes letting our emotions quickly take over. Our tears are streaming down and creating a pool between us.

“Baby I’m so sorry,” I repeat. “I never want to hurt you again. I never want to see you sad or cry again. I love you so much.”

“What?” He asks straining through his tears. “You what?”

“I love you,” I choke out. “I wasn’t sure what it was or how to even tell, but I came in here with the goal of letting my heart do the talking, and that’s what it says. My heart says I love you.” I can’t stop crying and I’m not even sure why. I didn’t plan to tell him I love him. I wasn’t even sure what love was just a few hours ago. I didn’t plan anything, but it’s out there now.

“Mina.” His tears are falling faster as he takes one of my hands that’s cradling his cheek and kisses the inside of my palm. “I love you too. So much that it hurts.” He wipes the tears from my face and softly presses his lips against mine.

My mind is cycling through a range of emotions that I can’t even begin to make sense of. I’m elated that my unplanned confession of love was met with a mutual feeling. My heart is full knowing he feels the same. However, I still feel the pain that I caused him, the pain I caused myself. It hurts a little more knowing that our feelings for each other are so deep.

Then there’s a twist of complete and utter fear gripping at my insides. Love is a very strong thing that scares me. I’m afraid of anything happening to him. I’m afraid of hurting him again. I’m afraid of the possibility of us going through a conflict in the future that will only hurt more because of how much I love him. How would I be able to bear that level of pain?

Despite all of those feelings, there’s one that’s rapidly taking me over in this moment. Euphoria.

Our lips remain connected being hydrated by the mix of tears between us. He pulls me closer to him positioning me across his lap. His hands maintain a soft yet strong grip around my body while we explore the inside of each other’s mouths.

All I want is to fill myself with something other than the tears I’ve been crying. Something other than the pain and guilt that I’ve caused. I don’t know if he’s trying to do the same, but his grip gradually gets tighter and his kisses become more aggressive and needy.

“I love you so so much,” he whispers slowly laying me on my back across the bed.

“I love you too, my Jimin.”

He positions his body over mine, fitting himself perfectly between my legs. Every inch from my jawline down to my neck has been claimed by his warm soft lips. His hands are exploring parts of me that they’ve never explored before. Not like this.

I let go and allow myself to get lost in him. The feeling of his chiseled chest as I pull his shirt over his head. The feeling of his hands snaking around my curves as he does the same to me. Our bare skin rubbing together and sparking a fire within me.

All of our clothes quickly become nonexistent and the only thing between us is the sweat building on our bodies. He’s gentle and caring with every kiss he plants on my skin. It’s all a new feeling for me, but an incredibly comforting feeling.

The tears have stopped and there’s nothing left but the blissful fog of love making that carries us well into the night.

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floplvl · 1 year

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On Thursday, my baby girl went into surgery. We surrendered her at 8:30 and six hours later we came to get her. She was so tired, her paws just slid in different directions as she melted down to the ground, softly whining, eyes red, she laid down. I wrapped her in a blanket and she slept until the taxi came.

We drove to my mom’s place, where we have to stay due to my apartment not being suitable to host this little patient. Baby was so tired she couldn’t even walk up the stairs, we had to drag her up. And then we welcomed her to the air mattress we’d put in the living room. She’s not allowed to jump or climb. She was so weak, so tired and so inconsolable. She kept crying softly, especially when I wasn’t beside her. Anytime I got up for the bathroom she cried until I came back.

It all made sense to me now. Why I didn’t get to move to Estonia, why I wasn’t able to work in Norway. Why the universe kept sabotaging every opportunity for me to get out of the country. Why I got an apartment from the city, why I got adminstrated to the school here. Why I am so lucky to have so much work experience that I do not need to be with my classmates right now doing the practice/internship, and instead am on ”vacation” right now until January. Because my Baby would need her mother beside her.

I have spent every second with her. Of course I didn’t go on the event on Friday. I’d much rather be with my baby girl, but even if I’d wanted to attend I couldn’t have because of the bags under my eyes from the crying and exhaustion. It’s the worst feeling in the world, when something happens to our pets.

The second day she was feeling a little better. She’s on painkillers: I give her oral suspension for inflammation and pain in the morning, and then mid-day and evening I give her a small amount of opioids. My mother was against the idea of me giving her opioids, but I think that if she wasn’t the one who had her stomach cut open and then sewn back together she doesn’t have so much to say.

They discovered through an ultrasound, that my baby girl has cancer in her spleen. And we agreed that regardless of consequences or results, it’s the best to remove the whole spleen, because otherwise, due to it having grown to triple its size, it could burst and result in death by internal bleeding. It could have happened as easily as her bumping into a wall.

Anyway, the xrays and ultrasounds cost 485 euros, and the surgery was 1,845e. And although it never crossed my mind to act otherwise, I did observe that it’s a lot of money. But, you can’t really put a price on life, can you? I don’t think so. Besides, money come and go and it’s not even real, so. As long as I added something to her life.

We don’t know the results yet. I don’t know what will happen. I pray for the best, of course. She’s such a good girl. And she’s doing so much better. Today she showered her mommy with kisses and showed that she wants to go out and play, and showed also granny and grampa her toy. My angel is not allowed to do more than regular walking for the next 14 days.

I also removed her plasters today, and sent a picture to the hospital, and they told me it looks really good and how it’s supposed to look. It’s really important to keep everything clean. I am pretty happy I already have some experience in nursing so that I am more comfortable to take good care of her wounds. I won’t show here what ther wound looks like, it’s pretty sensitive and hard to look at.

Now we’re laying in bed listening to relaxation music for dogs. It’s amazing how well it works to get this one to go to sleep. She does regularly xchange positions during the night. I’m so happy she does. I’m never really asleep because I keep listening to her breathing through the night. She’s so precious, so beautiful. I love her so much. I’ll make sure to be the best mommy ever to my baby girl, until the end.

Btw she hates this e-collar soo much, poor thing

This is a really hard time for me, so I’m not really in the mood to write and such. I just want to be with Baby and make the most of the time we have left. I’m hoping we still have years together.

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emilythefern · 2 years

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extra measures.

tw for heavy discussion of Neil’s su*c*de attempt

The play at Henley Hall felt like an eternity ago, even that it had been a mere day. Neil store in the same place he stood the day before, alight with nerves and excitement. The only thing he felt now was pain.

“Todd?” He gently called to his roommate, who was sitting on his bed, head buried in a book. Neil supposed Todd hadn’t noticed him walk in.

Todd shot up like a bird on a wire, dropping the book on the ground. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Neil?” He walked over slowly, as if in a trance. Like he was expecting to wake up any second now. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” He looked at the floor, tapping his palms together as he tended to do when he was figuring out puzzles, piecing facts together.

“I’m here.” He wanted to hug Todd, but gave him space. He could see the gears turning in his brain, trying to make sense of the situation.

“I thought you would-“

No point in hiding the truth. “I almost did.” Todd let out a little gasp, even though Neil had only confirmed his suspicions. Todd was as white as a sheet with wide eyes. Neil guided him back down onto the bed, where Todd put his hands in his head. He went to leave, to give Todd space, but he grabbed his arm as he stood up.

“Stay, please.” Though it was a phrased as a question, it was more of a plea.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He sat back down, and wrapped his arms around Todd.

“You’ve got to keep that promise, Neil. I don’t know what I’d do if you- If you…”

Todd was sobbing into Neil’s shoulder, and he held his roommate tight as he cried inconsolably.

“I won’t leave you Todd.” He was in no position to make promises of any kind. But he made one anyway, for Todd’s sake.

- - - -

As Todd worked away on his history assignment, he let out a sigh of frustration. Neil looked up from his novel.

“Is everything ok?”

Todd whipped his head around at the sound of Neil’s voice. “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. I just left my textbook in the classroom.”

Neil looked sympathetic. “You could go fetch it now.”

“It’s fine.”

“If you need it, go get it!”

“No, I’m fine without it”

“Todd, you clearly need it. Just go grab it!”

“And leave you here?” Todd had stood up, and seemed angry. “It’s fine. I don’t need it.”

“I could go get it if you’re not up for getting it…”

“I’m not leaving you on your own anywhere Neil! Stuff the textbook!”

“I’M FINE.” Neil was yelling now, stood up from his seat too. “I HAVE BEEN. YOU CAN LEAVE ME ALONE IN A ROOM FOR FIVE MINUTES.”

Todd’s eyes welled up with tears, and Neil regretted yelling. His roommate was too sensitive for it.

“I noticed you were having a bad day.” His voice was shaky and trembling. “You told Charlie it was a good day and he believed you, but it was bad on a scale of good-bad. Your father called you this morning, which you were expecting, because your kept checking your phone. It was definitely him because he has a slightly lower tone than your other contacts when it rings. Then you cried in the bathroom for twenty minutes. I waited outside, you know. To make sure you didn’t do ‘it’. Then you walked past a freshman class discussing Chekhov’s gun, and you got that funny look on your face, so I send over Charlie to distract you. And you’re annoyed with me, because I’m psychoanalysing your every move, and you just want some space.” He took a deep gasping breath. “I know you think everyone’s against you, but I’m trying so hard to work with you because I don’t want to lose you. I cant just leave you to go get my textbook, because if I can’t see you, for even a second, my brain tells me ‘that’s it, it’s all your fault. He’s dead and you could’ve stopped it.’ And I know you just want to forget it ever happened and deal with it on your own, but I’m part of this too.”

Neil took a breath. “Thank you for noticing. And you’re right, I can’t deal with this on my own.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I know.”

“Are you ok now?”

Not in the slightest. “Kind of.”

“You’re lying. But I kind of want to believe it.”

@inahallucination @exilesblack @maisietheweltoncow @aaronhoetchner @aedan-mills @deadpoetsbythelakes @tuskofthyme @justarandompjofan @make-ur-lives-extraordinary

#dead poets society #dead poets #neil perry #todd anderson #anderperry #neil and todd #todd and neil #dps fanfiction

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better.

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood.

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more.

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment.

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen.

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them.

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.”

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?”

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius. I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.”

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!”

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.”

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus.

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.”

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.”

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.”

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending.

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.”

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

#remus lupin #sirius black #bowie #felix martin #simon #sweater weather #coast to coast #lumosinlove #coops #hockey #adhd #blood on the ice #found family #prohibitionincurls #collab #fanfic #my fic

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aressss1 · 3 years

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Pandora’s Tears

(Dream x Reader)

Sam wants you to deal with the demons of your past. It doesn't really go well...

A/N: Please read the tags for anything that might trigger you. I don't want to hurt anyone with any of my work.

tw// Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Murder, Heavy Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse

Read me on AO3!

~~~~~~

‘He denied any relationship with you, Y/N. That’s not what people in relationships do.’ Sam’s pleading voice echoed in your head, as you faced the lava that served as a curtain between you and Dream. One night… He had come to your house, to talk to you about Dream.

‘But he told me that it was to protect me…’ You argued still holding on to the shred of loyalty that you had for him, even if you didn’t agree with his actions.

‘If you were mine, the whole world would have known not to mess with you,’ Sam’s face was unreadable behind his gasmask. ‘Don’t allow yourself to think, that what he did to you was okay. You are a victim in this too.’

You and Sam argued for a good portion of that night… It ended in you kicking him out of your house, but his words had resonated with you. Needless to say, you came to see him the next day, apologizing, but it took a while for you to get up the courage to even see Dream. Snapping back to reality, you could feel Sam’s presence next to you, and you took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to do this you know…” His voice was soft, and you could feel his gaze on you. “I could-”

“I have to Sam.” Those were the only words you could muster. You felt the weight of his hand fall on your shoulder. You leaned into his touch. You appreciated him and everything that he had done for you.

“Call for me, if you need me to bring you back.” You could only nod, the lump in your throat making it hard for you to say anything. “I’m serious.” His grip tightened on your shoulder. You felt him step away from you, as the curtain of lava fell. Your breath hitched in your throat when you finally saw Dream. His eyes found you and you felt yourself shrink away. Your stomach doing flip flops. “Remember everything I told you… Good luck.” Sam whispered in your ear as he stood behind you.

Sam instructed you on how to get over to Dream. You carefully followed his instructions until your feet found the obsidian landing. Now… With Dream on the other side of the netherite blocks, and Sam securing the place with lava again, you felt like you were in the den of a starving wolf.

“Y/N,” Dream gave you a smile. “I missed you so much, how come it took so long for you to see me?” He let his arms wrap around your frame, his fingers running down your back, like they had done so many times already. You suppressed a shudder, as you put your hand on his chest pushing back from him.

“I-I need to talk to you.” You sputtered, feeling your heart pounding. You weren’t too good with confrontation, and it left you feeling lightheaded.

“Why are you so nervous?” You heard the hurt in his voice. His rough calloused hand wrapped around yours on his chest.

“I’m done Dream…” You pulled your hand away from him. When you stepped away from him again, you could see his muscles tense up. The look on his face absolutely shattered your heart. You couldn’t align yourself on his ideals… But you still loved him, you probably would always love him to a certain extent. “I don’t want us to be a thing anymore.”

“W-what?” You actively avoided his eyes. He paced around the room his face in his hands, until he circled around to you hunching down to make you look into his eyes. “Y/N, you don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“Huh, that’s funny that you say those two words to me, I told you we were going to get married. Yet you’re… You’re abandoning me.” His face turned into a sneer. He was quiet, as he turned to a clock resting on the wall. “I counted the seconds, until I would have you in my arms again.” His fingers grip the clock ripping it from the wall and smashing it on the opposite wall. The clock shattered, his actions creating a sense of dread to crawl up your neck.

“Married…?” Your eyes scan over him, a pang of guilt in your chest. You tried to control your breathing. “We can’t get married if you’re in here, and last I checked… You were in here forever. I can’t wait forever.” It seemed like your words baffled Dream. He let his hands drop to his sides in disbelief.

“I can’t believe this. You really think I won’t get out of here? Have you lost that much of your mind? You’re supposed to be smarter than this.” This makes you freeze, tears well up in your eyes. You couldn’t speak, you only kept your head down, like so many times before. You could hear the words Sam angrily spoke to you that day in your head.

‘He’s gaslighting you, Y/N,’ his voice broke the moment he had said it. His hand found yours, and his eyes pleaded with you. He was angry, but not at you. ‘He’s confusing you, making you question thing’s you shouldn’t be questioning.’

“Everything, I did… I did for us,” Dream pointed at you, the motion making you flinch. “I wanted everyone here to be a happy family, and what do you do? You abandon me. Just like everyone else.” You could see his tears streaming down his face.

‘He’ll place blame on you and make himself look like the victim.’ Sam had predicted it, maybe it was the experience from talking to Dream himself, but everything that Sam was trying to say to you that day rang true.

“Dream…” He cut you short. Within a few strides he now towered over you and his hands pushed you against the wall roughly. You winced as your head hit the obsidian.

“Who is it? Who is making you do this to me? Because the Y/N I know wouldn’t do this.” His fingers dug into your shoulders. His jaw set. His eyes staring at you, waiting for your answer.

“You did this to yourself.” Your voice just barely above a whisper. You wanted out, you pushed back on on him slapping his hands away. Tears spill down your cheeks, hitting the obsidian that cried with you. He just stared at you intensely. His hand running through his hair to get it out of his face.

“You have five seconds to change your mind.” His voice grows cold. His fist clenching and unclenching.

‘Don’t let him manipulate you.’ These were words that Sam had just said to you while you were signing the second waiver, to be put in this chamber.

“Goodbye Dream.” You let your eyes roam anywhere but him. You turn toward the lava ready to call Sam’s name. The lava curtain in front of you flowing in a peaceful manner.

“Before you go…” Dream’s voice sounded hollow. “I should tell you something.” He gave a small laugh. “I should tell you how easy it was… To wedge a chest into the hole that I fall down in when I respawn… Just enough to where I could actually reach and break my respawn point…” Your eyes widen as your heart pounded in your ears. “Let’s not forget the fine print of those waivers you signed.”

The seconds that ticked by seemed as if they were in slow-motion. He grabbed you by the shirt, roughly pressing his lips to yours. You struggled to free yourself from his grip. But you were too late, as he hurtled both himself and you, toward the lava. Orange flooded your vision, until you squeezed your eyes shut.

Lava enveloped your body, and the pain was unbearable. You didn’t last for but mere seconds, but those seconds seemed like an entire lifetime. Dream had lost his hold on you and you wanted to scream. The pain was too much, and you slipped away from this reality.

Dream tried to swim in lava.

Y/N tried to swim in lava.

Sam was on high alert, waiting for anything from you. So, when he saw you respawn at the last respawn point before the cell, he ran to you. You were inconsolable. Sobbing, and unable to control yourself. He kneeled down to you and wrapped his arms around you. His mind raced on what could have happened.

“Sam…” You managed to get out between your sobs. “He escaped-” Sam’s eyes widened in disbelief… His heart sunk, and he could taste bile rising in his throat. He kept himself calm with you in his arms.

“How…?” Sam listened to you explain it as best as you could, his eyes grazing over the burn scars that now lined your skin in random areas. When Dream killed you… He had taken one of your lives… The anger that he felt, and the sadness conflicted with one another.

“Sam…?” Your voice was wavering, full of fear. “What about the waiver…?” Sam sighed and closed his eyes tears welling up. If he were to uphold everything that this prison stood for, he would have to kill you through every one of your lives. His tears finally fell, and he cursed that green bastard for outplaying him. His grip on you tightened, and there was a heavy weight on his chest and in his sheath. His decision was made…

“…Sam?” With that… His sword clattered to the ground a few feet away.

~~~~~~

Sequel: Pandora’s Love

#tw//#emotional manipulation #gaslighting #murder #heavy angst #angst and tragedy #emotional/psycological abuse #tumblr request #dream x reader #dream mcyt #dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken x reader #Pandora's Tears

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argentnoelle · 3 years

Text

There’ll Be Peace When You Are Done AKA the REAL finale (Destiel + Sam/Eileen)

[read on ao3]

The shot focuses on DEAN, asleep in his bed. It’s angled so you can’t see the other half of his bed. Dean is lying on his side, and looks like he’s having a nightmare. His eyes fly open, and he calms himself for a moment before rolling over to look across the bed. The shot follows him to see CAS, under the covers beside him and obviously unclothed. There’s a glow, like sunrise, through the shot, making it look soft and peaceful, though that makes no sense since his room in the bunker has no windows, and an unobtrusive but calming background music.

CAS: [tilting his head, looking into Dean’s eyes] Dean? What’s wrong?

DEAN: Nightmare. I thought… [he pauses, evidently confused] I thought I’d lost something important…

CAS: What did you lose?

DEAN: I don’t know.... [he leans forward, buries his head in CAS’ shoulder. He still seems rattled]

CAS: [running a hand over Dean’s hair] Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll find it.

DEAN: I hope so. [chuckles] How do you always make me believe in miracles, Cas?

CAS: [confused] Well, I am an angel.

DEAN rolls his eyes and is about to say something snarky with a grin on his face when—

Shot cuts to a farther one. From above, showing Dean alone sleeping on the side of his bed, waking up. No music. No light. Just the sounds of his gasping breath and the light from the clock on his bedside table. He sits up, turns on the lamp, eyes still wild and you can see that he’s a complete wreck. His eyes are bloodshot, he looks like he hasn’t slept well since Cas died, which he hasn’t. The look on his face is one of profound and inconsolable bafflement and loss.

CUT TO SAM waking up. You see him walking out of the shower and getting ready, and to all intents and purposes, he looks like he’s doing fine. Not great, maybe, but definitely at least okay. SAM walks into the kitchen where DEAN is eating breakfast and already on his second beer. SAM looks, obviously notices, but doesn’t say anything. He sits at the table to join him.

CUT TO SAM doing laundry and reading, DEAN working on BABY, checking the motor, cleaning all the windows… as SAM is shown making phone calls, looking through books, eating lunch, DEAN is still working on BABY. He looks driven, almost frenzied, as though if he stops he’s going to fall apart where he stands. SAM stops by a door in the hallway and looks in, it’s obviously JACK’S room. It’s empty and dark. SAM doesn’t turn on the light but leaves the door open and stands there for a moment. He’s got a hollow expression, not entirely sad but not happy either.

CUT TO the library. SAM is on the computer when DEAN walks in, a duffle bag over his shoulder.

DEAN: Hey.

SAM: Hey. ...You doing all right?

DEAN: I can’t stay here anymore. I need some fresh air for a few days. You’ll be okay?

SAM: [with a surprised huff of a laugh] Of course I will.

DEAN: Good. [awkward silence] Good. Well then… [clears throat] See you.

He walks up the stairs toward the top of the bunker. Shot changes to SAM’S reaction. He looks worried and sad. You hear the clang of the door shut. SAM lets out a sigh and bows his head, closing his eyes. He speaks in a quiet tone…

SAM: Jack? I know you can hear me, and I know… you didn’t want people to pray to you, but… Dean’s not doing well, and I don’t know how to help… [shuddering sigh] actually, I’m not doing so well either. So, I mean, if you could…

SAM opens eyes. Looks around. JACK is still, obviously, not there. SAM leans back in his chair, looking gutted, but just then his phone, lying on the table beside him, vibrates. He picks it up.

EILEEN: [text] Sam, how are you?

SAM: [slight smile, texts back] Not great, honestly.

EILEEN: [facetime request]

SAM: [accepts request]

EILEEN: [speaking and signing] I found a hunt, just a simple salt and burn. If you want to join me?

SAM: [speaking and signing] I’ll be there.

NIGHT. Exterior, the Impala is parked on the side of a long, empty stretch of highway with trees around it. There’s a dirt path like a long driveway, which is where it’s parked at the front of, but you can’t see where the path leads, except into the woods.

CUT TO DEAN lying in the front seat, asleep, still from above. Then from the side, shot facing toward the back of the car. There’s a noise from the back seat, like someone shifting. DEAN’S eyes open, and he’s on the alert. He slowly inches up, hand reaching for a knife in its holster. The shot follows him until the camera, and DEAN, are peering into the backseat, where CAS is lying down, possibly asleep. As soon as it is clear that DEAN sees him, CAS opens his eyes, as though he’s sensed DEAN’S presence. He sits up.

CAS: Dean.

DEAN: [exhales] I’m dreaming, aren’t I.

CAS: [looks puzzled]

DEAN: [puts down knife, and reaches across the seat back. CAS leans forward till his hand is resting on the seat back and DEAN’S hand is resting on top of it. There’s a long silence.]

CAS: [gesturing to the car and the road] Where are you going?

DEAN: [sounding sad/lost/bitter] I don’t freaking know.

CAS: I’m sure you’ll realize when you get there.

DEAN: [brokenly] How the hell am I supposed to get there?

DEAN leans his head down until it’s resting on his elbows. When the shot cuts back to where CAS was, the seat is empty. DEAN opens his eyes blearily and stumbles outside, with his phone. He turns it on and you can see it says 12:00. He opens up SAM’S number and stares at it for a long time before not calling. He puts the phone down, and the shot follows it, becoming a close-up on the phone screen and the time.

CUT to DEAN again, he’s leaning against the back of the Impala, drinking beer.

CUT to closeup of phone. 1:00.

CUT to DEAN again. Still drinking, but there are empty bottles by his feet.

CUT to closeup of phone. 2:00.

CUT to DEAN, he walks off a few paces and offscreen vomits into the bushes.

CUT to closeup of phone. 3:00.

In a motel room, that’s lit only through the exterior lights outside the uncurtained window, SAM wakes up, looking uneasy. As he sits up, he disturbs the other person lying beside him, who you see, as she sits up, is EILEEN.

EILEEN: Sam? What’s wrong?

SAM: [gets out of bed, unplugs his phone from the wall, and calls DEAN. The phone rings. And rings. SAM looks back at EILEEN, he looks scared.

SAM: [putting down phone so he can sign and speak] It’s Dean. I think something’s wrong.

EILEEN considers this for a moment. You can see her considering that this is the middle of the night, and SAM is probably overreacting, but then you can see her deciding to take this seriously.

EILEEN: [getting up, speaking and signing] You can track his phone, right? [she is just wearing an undershirt and shorts right now, but after she speaks she starts changing, pulling a shirt over her head]

SAM: [distracted, picking up the phone and speaking basically to himself] Yeah, I’m on it.

EILEEN starts packing everything and SAM jumps to his feet. They leave the motel room, [the shot continues from inside the room, showing them closing the door behind them.]

DEAN has finished putting branches over the Impala to hide it and is starting to walk down the trail. As he leaves, shot cuts to DEAN’S PHONE, sitting on the front seat, with his knife beside it.

DEAN walks through the woods, which are dark, crashing into things, scratching his arm on some brambles.

DEAN: son of a bitch!

Then DEAN stumbles out of the woods and sees a small field, with a barn in it. He walks toward it, interested and wary, and creaks open the door.

The moonlight is bright, but DEAN flicks his lighter open, and in the patches of brighter light, casting shadows on the walls, you can see numerous sigils spray painted on the walls. It looks like the barn where he first met Cas all those years ago.

DEAN walks further inside and trips over some farming tools. His lighter falls out of his hand and, fortunately, closes. Now it’s just moonlight again. DEAN pulls himself to a sitting position on a bale of hay.

DEAN: All right, Cas. I’m here. What now? [pauses. No answer. DEAN laughs self-depreciatingly, and then puts his head in his hands] Cas, man, I’m trying. I’m trying to be… to be the person you saw in me. [his voice gets choked up] to keep living for you… but I can’t. I need you. [silence. Long, resounding, and empty.]

DEAN takes a shuddering breath, leans his head up from his hands and you see that he’s been crying.

DEAN: Fine. You want the truth? I don’t need you. I’ll survive… hell, I’ve done it before. But I don’t freaking want to. [a pause. DEAN looks almost surprised at his own words. Then, as though admitting something that is hard to say, even to an empty barn:] I want you here, Cas.

All of a sudden, something in the barn is moving. A space of blackness that is darker than the night shadows, and more gooey. It gets bigger and forms itself into a DOORWAY into the Empty. Dean stands up, steps toward it, and stops at the threshold. He reaches his hand through the doorway, and pulls it back. His hand is fine. Then he looks around in his pockets, and there’s a quick cut to DEAN’S PHONE sitting on the front seat of the Impala, with his knife next to it.

DEAN: ...Shit. [DEAN looks at the doorway to the Empty as though considering doing something very, very stupid. Then he steps through]

CUT TO SAM and EILEEN at the IMPALA, they’ve found the phone and start to run along the path through the trees, EILEEN has her gun out, SAM has a flashlight.

In the empty. It’s dark. At first DEAN wanders through darkness and silence, and then he hears cries of pain. As he comes closer, he sees CAS curled up on the “ground” with Meg!Empty torturing him.

DEAN: [rushing forward] You get your hands off him, you bitch!

THE EMPTY: Dean Winchester? [surprised, but recovering quickly] Who are you to give me orders.

DEAN: [with a cocky attitude, glancing at CAS, and obviously speaking to him, and not THE EMPTY] I’m the one who’s going to grip you tight and save you from perdition.

CAS stands up, looking tired, and worried. He glances between DEAN and THE EMPTY.

THE EMPTY: [laughs] You can’t save him. Cas and I made a deal. Fair and square. His happiness brought him here and I’m never letting him go again.

DEAN: Oh yeah? And that’s how you get your kicks, is that it? Torturing people? You can’t stand how alone you are and you take it out on everyone else. Man I get that but you, you’re on a whole other level. Not caring about anyone else, you’re just… just... just empty !

THE EMPTY: I want to sleep! I’m tired!

DEAN: [looking at the EMPTY for a moment, realizing] No one’s ever given a shit about you, have they.

THE EMPTY looks furious.

DEAN: God screwed you over. Billie—Well, Billie said she’d help you fall asleep, but let’s face it, she didn’t even have a clue how to begin.

THE EMPTY: [hysterically] So I’ll stay awake forever, then! And so will everyone else!

DEAN: It doesn’t have to be that way.

THE EMPTY: You can’t save me. You’re just a hunter who got lucky… God’s little pet…

DEAN: You’re right. I’m nobody special. [steps forward, looks her in the eyes] But I’m willing to try.

CUT TO SAM and EILEEN. They are now in the barn. SAM sees the portal to the EMPTY, which is closing, and notices DEAN’s lighter on the ground and puts two and two together.

SAM: [into the empty] Dean! [turns back to look at EILEEN.] The portal’s closing—Dean’s on the other side. He’s not going to make it back.

EILEEN: [speaking only, still holding her gun] Can you keep it open?

SAM: You’d have to be a powerful witch to pull off a spell like that. I mean, I have some idea… Maybe, for a few minutes… [he’s started considering] But I can’t do it, without focal points, ingredients… there won’t be enough power…

EILEEN: [puts down her gun and holds out her hand] I trust you. We’ll make it. Together. [SAM stares at her, surprised, and grateful, and overwhelmed. He takes her hand and faces the portal. The shot shows the two of them from the back, the portal before them: Sam standing centered, EILEEN to his left. Then he turns his head as though noticing someone. Close up shot of ROWENA, in the pink dress. She smiles at him, and close up shot, puts her hand in his other hand. Back to wide shot, it’s just SAM and EILEEN again, but you get the idea that ROWENA is there in spirit. SAM starts to speak a spell.

CUT back to the Empty. THE EMPTY is lying on the “ground” looking uncomfortable. Cas is kneeling on one side of her, DEAN on the other.

THE EMPTY: How is this supposed to work?

DEAN: Uh… [embarrassed laugh; looks desperately at CAS, hisses] what should I do?

CAS: [exasperated] This was your idea!

DEAN: [annoyed] Sorry, I haven’t exactly been tucked in since I was four!

THE EMPTY starts to get up.

DEAN: Wait, wait! [everyone looks at him. Dean, rambling, continues] Uh, you know, my mother… she used to, uh… [laughs nervously] she used to say angels were watching over me. [Glances at Cas shyly, then away. Clears his throat.] And sometimes, she… she’d sing me a lullaby.

[sings, thready and uncertain] Carry on my wayward son… [looks from Cas to the Empty and his voice gets firmer, more confident. He continues, acapella] There’ll be peace when you are done… lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more. [by now his voice is strong and steady, and he’s gotten into the swing of it]

CUT TO SAM and EILEEN on the other side of the portal. You can see that SAM is still speaking, there’s the sound of thunder, and hear the words of the spell, overlaid with DEAN’S voice, still singing:

Once I Rose above the noise and confusion, just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion, I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high… [as the shot focuses on SAM’s face, speaking the spell, looking powerful and confident]

CUT back to the empty, DEAN is singing and looking at CAS:

Though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man, though my mind could think I still was a mad man, I hear the voices when I’m dreaming, I can hear them say [DEAN is now stroking THE EMPTY’S hair, THE EMPTY looks relaxed, quiet, and her eyes are fluttering shut]...

The SONG starts up in actuality for the chorus,

Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done, lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more.

As the chorus plays, DEAN and CAS stand up, and walk away from the now sleeping EMPTY. They hold hands and step forward—

And tumble out into the barn, where there’s a final crash of thunder and the song cuts out, and the portal closes.

SAM: Dean? [runs forward, hugs him] Cas! [All four of them embrace, then SAM and EILEEN step back. SAM is crying but looks happy.

DEAN: [turning to CAS] I told you something, before I went into the Empty. Did you hear it?

CAS: No.

DEAN: I don’t need you.

CAS looks shocked, betrayed, but then resigned, tries to look like it doesn’t bother him

DEAN continues: but I want you. I want you here, Cas. With me. Please tell me you’ll stay. [He steps forward, uncertain, and CAS, with a blinding smile, says]

CAS: Of course I will. As long as you want me to. [he takes DEAN’S hand carefully and DEAN pulls him into a hug again, and then, looking into his eyes, puts both hands to the side of Cas’s head as he speaks]

DEAN: I want you to stay until I die. No matter what damn curses we have to deal with. What monsters. Or how bad it gets. Or… even if things are fine. Even when there’s nothing to do, even when we don’t need you… I want you to stay through all the boring, everyday crap…

CAS: [laughing and crying] Dean, yes. Yes, of course.

SAM: I now pronounce you man and angel.

DEAN: [looking over, half laughing and still overjoyed] shut up.

SAM: I don’t know dude, you kind of married him. [SAM looks at EILEEN, who has been watching, and repeats himself in sign language. EILEEN laughs.]

DEAN: [defensively blustering] No I didn’t.

ELEEN: [speaking and signing] Yeah. You kind of did.

DEAN: [at a loss for words, looks at CAS, who shrugs] Fine. Then… [obviously making his mind up on a whim, he leans close to CAS’s face and whispers] If you don’t want me to do this, just say no and I’ll forget all about it.

CAS: I told you yes and I’ll tell you until the day you—

DEAN: [kisses Cas, slow and sweet, and Cas reaches up to hold him. Then Dean breaks the kiss. He’s breathing heavily, mostly out of nerves, and can’t meet anyone’s eyes, but he says,]

DEAN: There. Now it’s official.

CUT TO exterior. Everyone is sitting on the hood of the Impala. SAM is opening a beer and offers one to DEAN, who shakes his head

DEAN: Nah, I think I already had enough of those tonight. [He is sitting in Cas’s lap and looks perfectly happy, and Cas is holding him like he’s never going to let go. Eileen is sitting next to SAM and she and SAM clink their beer bottles together.

Turns into a small montage [no sound] of them all talking and laughing. First from afar, then close up shots. But as it shows the close up shots, you see Jack sitting with them. It seems that they almost “feel” him. Farther out shot again, Jack is still there. At the same time, the song starts playing again:

Masquerading as a man with a reason

My charade is the event of the season

And if I claim to be a wise man, well It surely means that I don't know

On a stormy sea of moving emotion

Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean

I set a course for winds of fortune

But I hear the voices say… [song ducks but continues playing, skipping the chorus and playing THIS under the next bit instead:

Carry on, you will always remember

Carry on, nothing equals the splendor

Now your life's no longer empty

Surely heaven waits for you

JACK: [quietly, smiling] I love you. All of you.

SAM: [turning his head, as though noticing something] Did any of you feel something? A presence?

DEAN: Oh, come on. I don’t need any more ghost crap tonight.

SAM: no, not a spirit, just… a presence. It felt familiar. It felt like…

CAS: [quietly, knowingly, meeting Sam’s eyes] like family.

Song is at… “surely heaven waits for you” which is audible, and then:

FADE TO BLACK

Then, the very last chorus and the song ends, over black.

[on ao3]

#supernatural #destiel #sam/eileen #my stuff #my fic

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justaswampdemon · 3 years

Text

The Place You Need To Reach

Finally finished the first chapter of a Buck Begins fic I started...when the episode airs...Biggest of shoutouts to @marjansmarwani for the title help and also all the support and encouragement. You’re the best!

Read it here on AO3

Bobby’s phone rings loud from the night table, waking him with a start. Looking at the clock he groans, 12:45am glaring at him. Whatever irritation he feels is quickly overridden by Captain Mode. He reaches for his phone, already concerned. It skyrockets to worry when he sees Buck’s name lighting up his screen. He’d been worried when they found out Buck’s parents were visiting. The few vague things he’s heard plus what he's been able to piece together did not paint a pretty picture. Then this morning Buck had been waling on the punching bags while Eddie watched with carefully hidden concern. Bobby had hoped that had gotten some of the overwhelming emotions out, helped the kid get back on solid ground, but a call any time after midnight is never a good sign.

“Buck?” He sits up, getting a grumble from where Athena had been tucked against his shoulder. There’s no answer, just shaky breaths barely audible. “Buck what’s wrong?”

Athena rubs her eyes and turns her laser focus on her husband as she wakes up fully.

Another stuttering breath, followed by a sniffle and all the parental warning bells in Bobby’s head are going haywire. “Buck, c’mon kiddo I need you to talk to me here.”

“Bobby…” Buck sounds wrecked, his voice trembling and small. He sounds young and scared and Bobby shares a nervous look with Athena.

“Where are you?” He starts simple, all his first responders training kicking in to get Buck somewhere safe.

“Um...I just kind of started driving…” The pause on the other end of the line is agonizing. “I’m by the pier.”

That sends all kinds of alarms off in his head again. Buck drove to the pier, completely without thinking, and Bobby changes tactics slightly. He doesn’t just need to get Buck somewhere safe, he needs to get Buck here. “Are you ok to get here or do you need me to pick you up?” He’d drive to the middle of nowhere to get Buck if that’s what the kid needed.

“I can drive.” There’s a hint of stubbornness back in his voice, but it does nothing to settle Bobby’s nerves.

“Ok.” Bobby slips into Captain mode, hoping it helps keep Buck focused and present. “I want you to stay on the phone with me, and come straight here. Can you do that?”

Buck takes a few breaths, gathering himself and when he answers he sounds at least a bit more like himself. Athena is already up, changing into lounge clothes and grabbing her phone. “Yeah Cap, I can do that.”

He nods, more to himself, “good job Buck. You stay with me alright? You don’t have to talk, just listen to my voice and focus on driving.” Grabbing a sweatshirt and his slippers, he tucks the phone against his ear. Buck is so quiet, it’s possibly the longest the kid has gone without talking, especially to Bobby. He always has an obscure fact to share, knowing his Captain was always interested. Sometimes they were ridiculous, or it was something Bobby already knew, but they had bonded over loving weird facts. The way Buck had lit up when he realized Bobby was actually interested had firmly placed him in Bobby’s heart.

Making his way into the kitchen he sees Athena putting the kettle on, kissing her cheek and getting a supportive one armed hug. “How we doin Buck?”

“Almost there.”

“Ok, you’re doing good.” There’s another shaky exhale, and something close to a sob breaking from Buck’s throat. “Hey did you know Einstein issued the patent for Toblerone chocolate?” He doesn’t wait for a response, knows the words don’t matter as much as just having Buck hear his voice. “He was working at the patent office as a way to occupy his brain while figuring out equations.” He keeps offering up facts as he opens the front door. As soon as a familiar jeep parks behind his truck he hangs up.

He meets Buck half way, taking in the hunch of his shoulders and the way he avoids meeting Bobby’s eyes. Wrapping an arm around him he guides the kid inside and gets him settled on the couch.

Athena presses a cup of tea into his hands, sitting next to him with a gentle hand on his arm. Buck deflates at the contact, still not meeting either of their eyes. “What happened Buckaroo?”

Buck’s quiet, mouth twisting and leg bouncing. They give him time, let him gather his thoughts. “I was doing so good...I was getting better and in two dinners they’ve just…undone it all.” He breaks off into a sob and Bobby is moving before he realizes it, sitting on Buck’s other side and pulling him into his arms as Athena takes his mug from shaking hands. Buck falls apart in front of their eyes, years of hurt finally breaking free. “They never...they never cared. When they’d look at me it was like they were staring right through me, they’d barely acknowledge I was there unless I was hurt or I fucked up…then they’d have to look at me…but I was never enough and I tried.” He sounds almost pleading as he chokes the words out through tears. “Bobby, I really tried to be good enough for them to love me and all they could say was how difficult I made it...how difficult we made it for them. I just wanted them to love me and instead they gave up on me.”

“Buck you listen to me right now. You do not have to earn your parents love.” Athena holds his face in her hands, trying to get him to look at her. “Kids are difficult. That’s just called being a kid. Our job as parents is to love our kids no matter what. We love you, no matter what, and we are so so proud of the man you are.”

His eyes meet Athena’s for a moment and then go blank again. A harsh laugh grates out of his chest, “they never even wanted another son...they never wanted me.”

“Buck, what do you mean another son?” Bobby tries to think back on what he knows about Buck’s family, but as far as he’s heard it’s just him and Maddie.

Bobby lets him free of the hug as he tries to get the words out. “I had a brother…he was older and he got sick. They needed bone marrow and no one else in our family was a match.” The pieces fall into place and Bobby wants to vomit. Buck was a savior baby, and like he could hear Bobby’s thoughts he closes his eyes against fresh tears. “They had me for parts. But it didn’t work and Daniel died…and they were stuck with me when I’d already failed to do the only thing I was made for.”

Over where Buck has hunched back over, hiding his face in his hands, Athena and Bobby share a shocked and horrified look. Without hesitating Athena wraps him in a protective hug, eyes fierce even as her voice murmurs comforting nonsense. On the table Bobby’s phone rings, a quick glance showing Eddie’s calling. Bobby places a steady hand on his back, “I’m guessing Eddie’s looking for you? Do you want me to tell him where you are?”

Without moving from the safety of Athena’s arms Buck nods and lets out another choking sob. “I was supposed to come over for movie night…After I left Maddie’s I just sort of, I don’t know I guess I checked out. I don’t even know what time it is.” Suddenly he sits straight up, eyes wide. “Shit! I missed movie night! And it’s probably the middle of the night and I woke you up and—”

Before he can work himself into a full panic Bobby squeezes his shoulder. “It’s ok Buck, we’re here for you whenever you need us. Don’t worry about what time it is.” Internally he’s trying not to let the terror of Buck so out of it he completely lost himself cloud his mind. He needs to keep a clear head, needs to be the steady rock Buck is searching for. “Now do you want me to tell Eddie you’re here?”

“He’s worried I bet…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry him.”

Grabbing his phone Bobby stands and sees multiple missed calls from Eddie and Chimney, “he’ll understand just like we do. We’re all here for you Buck, you’re not alone.” Athena hands Buck his tea, coaxing him to take a few sips while he calls Eddie back. After one ring it picks up and Eddie’s frantic voice fills his ear. “Cap, we can’t find Buck. I don’t know what happened when he went over to Chim and Maddie’s but she’s almost inconsolable and Chimney is flipping out. He won’t answer the phone and he was supposed to come over. Albert said he never went back to the loft either…”

Quickly he steps outside, not wanting Buck to hear how scared Eddie sounds, it would only make him feel worse. “Eddie, take a breath, Buck is here.” He’s about to say that Buck’s alright but there’s no way Eddie would buy it. “He’s here and he’s safe. We’ve got him.”

There’s a sigh of relief and no small amount of swearing in Spanish. “Ok…ok good. I’ll text Chim and let him know.” A pause and then a little quieter, “do you know what happened?”

“His entire world just got turned upside down, it’s not my place to say any more than that…but he’s going to need us, need you, more than ever.” Glancing inside he sees his wife pulling Buck to lean against her again, a strong arm around his shoulders.

“Whatever he needs.” Eddie says simply, a little bit of calm working through his voice now that he knows Buck is safe. “Can Christopher and I come over tomorrow?”

“Of course, I’ll make breakfast.” Thank god they’re off shift tomorrow, Bobby has no idea how they’d manage to convince Buck to take the day off. The kid would almost immediately take it as a sign he’d done something wrong. So much of his behavior, his actions, are suddenly making sense and Bobby would very much like to have strong words with Buck’s parents. “Get some rest Eddie, I’ll call you if anything changes but we’ll see you in the morning.”

“Right, thank you Bobby.”

“Of course Eddie, take care of yourself and get some sleep.” Bobby hangs up and walks back inside and immediately Buck’s eyes shoot to his. “He’s not mad Buck, he’s just worried about you. I told him to bring Christopher over for breakfast.”

Buck looks completely drained as he sags with relief. His eyes are red and puffy and exhaustion radiates from every line of his body. With a quick squeeze Athena stands, “I’ll get the guest room all set up for you.” Buck looks like he’s about to apologize and Bobby’s heart breaks. “Don’t you dare apologize,” Athena says firmly. “You’re not being any trouble and we want you here. I know I’ll feel better if I know you’re here safe and sound.”

“Thank you…” Buck smiles at her, still subdued but genuine. Athena pauses to kiss the top of his head before heading down the hallway. Bobby takes her place on the couch and can’t help wrapping an arm around Buck in another protective hug. “I think you and Athena have hugged me more tonight than my parents have in my whole life…” Buck admits and Bobby wants to smack some sense into these people.

Anyone who’s spent more than 15 minutes with Buck can tell he thrives on physical contact. He takes every opportunity to be close to the people he loves. It’s the most obvious with Eddie, who’s always accepted Buck into his personal space even before they started to slide from friends to more, but Buck is quick with his affection and gets this almost surprised glee when he gets some in return. He soaks up love like a sponge and now they know why.

Athena comes back a few minutes later, giving them a fond look. “What do you think kiddo? Wanna try and get some sleep?” Bobby asks, rubbing a hand over Buck’s back.

“Yeah…I’m pretty drained Pops.” Together they stand up from the couch and follow Athena through the hallway.

“I put a pair of Bobby’s sweat pants and a sweatshirt on the bed.” Athena hugs him again, managing to tuck him against her so Buck looks small in her arms. He sniffles a little and steps back with a twist to his mouth.

Giving him a supportive pat on the shoulder, Bobby smiles at him. “We’re at the end of the hall if you need us.” Buck surprises him by reaching out and wrapping his arms around Bobby, squeezing tight before stepping back with a nod. “Thanks again…Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Buckaroo.” Athena smiles and grabs Bobby’s hand as they head to their room. They hear the door shut just as they shut their own and Bobby’s shoulders sag. Athena on the other hand starts pacing, eyes stormed over. “No wonder he was like that when he first came here. It was probably the only way he thought he could get any attention…we see it all the time with neglected kids.” Suddenly she pauses, spinning to face Bobby. “And Maddie! They probably made her keep it a secret…that poor girl had to just ignore that her brother had died and become a parent to the other one.”

Bobby rubs his hands over his face. “Eddie said she’s beside herself…inconsolable is the word he used…”

“I’ll call her in the morning and check on her.” Athena decides, finally crawling back into bed. Joining her under the covers, Bobby pulls her into his arms and takes comfort in the way she grips him just as tight. It’s a long time before they manage to fall asleep.

Buck leans against the door as it shuts. He feels…empty isn't the right word. More like he's been hollowed out and filled with cotton stuffing, nothing left in him but lumps and cheap fiber. Pulling his wallet and keys out of his pocket he tosses them on the night table, pausing as he pulls his phone out next. He turns it over in his hands as he sits on the bed, debating turning do not disturb off or ignoring the shitstorm that's probably growing in his notifications.

Taking a deep breath he sets it down and changes into his borrowed pjs. The sweatpants are a little big but actually long enough for once, and the sweatshirt is just loose enough it wraps him in comfort. Curling up under the blankets, Buck lets the feeling of safety wash over him. Snatching his phone from where he’d set it on the table he checks his battery life. It’s low but enough for him to pull up his recent calls and quickly select Eddie’s name.

It’s only two rings before the line picks up, “Buck?”

“Hey Eds…”

“Buck, baby are you ok?” Eddie goes from groggy to awake in a heartbeat and Buck closes his eyes against the worry staining his voice.

“Not really…no, but I’m better than I was.” He’s too tired to pretend right now, breath hitching, “I’m so sorry Eddie…I know Christopher is probably mad at me and I’m sure you are too 'cause I let him down and I didn’t mean to worry you…”

“Hey hey hey, it’s ok Buck.” Eddie cuts off the frantic apologies that seem to be forcing themselves from his throat. “Take a breath for me.”

There’s no way Buck can resist the softness in his words, following the gentle instructions until his breathing settles down. “I’m not mad Buck,” Eddie continues now that Buck’s not halfway to hyperventilating, “and neither is Christopher. We were worried about you, but you’re somewhere safe and that’s what matters.”

“Did you tell Maddie and Chim where I was?” Buck knows he probably did, he highly doubts they didn’t blow Eddie’s phone up when Buck went radio silent.

There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone, “yeah…They were terrified.” Buck feels a weird mix of guilt and anger flare up, and Eddie reads his mind as always. “I also told them to let you come to them, and to give you some space.” He hears the shifting of blankets before Eddie continues, “I know that whatever happened feels like your entire world just blew up…But remember that me and Christopher are here and we love you. Whatever it was, we'll be right here with you, ok?”

“Ok…I love you both too.” Buck wraps Eddie’s words around him, another layer of warmth under the borrowed sweatshirt. “Hey babe?” Eddie hums in questions. “Can you stay on the phone a little longer?”

“Yeah, I’m here Buck, for as long as you need me.”

It’s mostly quiet after that, a few murmured words of comfort and affection passed back and forth, but eventually Buck hears Eddie’s breathing even out and lets it soothe him enough to close his own eyes.

#swamp demon writes #my fic #buddie #firefam #I will always be weak for Bobby calling Buck kiddo

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

Text

lights, camera, duty commenced!

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #14 - commend ]

[ illya, g’raha & emet ] ★ [ 2,263 words ] ★ [ actors au ] passing mention of some friend’s ocs and illyanaud

commend: praise formally or officially

behind the scenes of the critically acclaimed long running tv show, final fantasy fourteen, g’raha tia is (almost) inconsolable after he reads the final act’s script

The not-so everlasting light shining down feels radiant and warm, but not scorching. In the distance, one can hear the push and pull of the tides from the nearby lake, as well as the rustling of the purple hued leaves that hung and swayed ever so gently upon the trees. A light baby blue canvas with dusty cotton candy clouds crowns lakeland, painting the perfect, serene vista for an uneventful day of shooting.

Though, Illya has to remind herself, as she looks up at the peaceful sky, and sighs in contentment that she was in the completely wrong headspace. Even though the sky above was bright and undoubtedly beautiful on this fine afternoon, she knows that all it takes is for a little bit of compuer-generated television effects magic to turn the tranquil landscape into a scene of naught but utter devastation and war.

Think termination. Think termination. You’re in the middle of a large-scale battle between Elidibus and the people of Norvrandt. The tone’s supposed to be somber and tense. You’re the warrior of darkness. You got this!

“Oh.... How could this be...?”

Her train of thought is rudely interrupted by the sorrowful moping of her co-actor, and she has to resist the urge to chide him for dragging his early morning sulking all the way into the afternoon.

“G’raha, please...” the lalafellin sighs, though cannot help but to let a sliver of sympathy slip into her tone. “The next scene’s starting soon.”

“I know, I know... But...” the man heaves a heavy sigh, hanging his head low and letting his arms drop onto his lap so dramatically she’d almost thought that his flesh really was made of crystal and wasn’t just a product of the hard work of extremely talented make-up artists. “I can’t help it. I can’t believe that my poor crystal exarch is-”

Illya can say she at least empathizes - though perhaps not to the same extent. She’s been casted into roles of characters who would meet an unfortunate demise later, but to be fair, they weren’t often major characters within the narrative of the show or film she was playing a role in.

The crystal exarch on the other hand, has played a key role as one of the many recurring supporting casts in the show. He’d lingered in the background as early as the first season, and was, to G’raha’s jubilation, finally given a main role in the fourth season they were filming.

Only to be killed off in the final act - succumbing to the crystallization of his entire body, from head to toe, in the throne room of the crystal tower after the warrior of darkness’ battle with the ascian Elidibus. His death scene was to be an emotionally poignant one... and Illya herself has spent the last few days getting into the headspace of the protagonist - who would understandably be utterly devastated by the loss of a dear friend.

It didn’t help that the crystal exarch was a considerably popular character within the international community of fans - and his significant increase in screen time was due in part to fan demands... though that perhaps made his long foreshadowed death even more of a cruel irony.

And there was nobody in the world who was a bigger fan of the crystal exarch than the actor who played him himself. It wasn’t narcissistic either, in their line of work, it’s easy to get attached to the roles they play... even more so when they’ve hovered within the headspace of their character for as long as 6 years - she would know, Liliya Liya is as big a part of her as the crystal exarch is for G’raha now.

Thus, though she felt the urgent need to get G’raha back up on his feet in preparation for the remaining scenes on their schedule to film... she could not bring herself to so callously talk down his very real and personal attachment of a character he was meant to portray well anyways.

“Oh come now... you should’ve seen this coming.” with a swagger in his step and lazy grin plastered over his expression, Emet Selch strolls over to the pair.... far too comfortable within his own role that he was speaking with Hades’ signature slur in his speech even while out of character. The man has always noted just how similar he was to the god of the underworld, and Illya wouldn’t be surprised if he’d claimed to not even be acting in his scenes at all.

“I...” G’raha pouts, looking up at Emet as his ears flatten atop his head. “I guess I was in denial of it. I thought they would maybe subvert expectations... but-”

“But that wouldn’t be a very compelling story to tell, now would it?” The older man shrugs, and Illya regrets to think that she’s inclined to agree.

“I guess not..”

The robed miqo’te man sighs, and she notes with an amused raise of an eyebrow as his tail that had once been tucked tightly to his side was now swiveling from side to side and puffed up in annoyance.

“Still! They could at least let him go out with more of a bang! Maybe... after he has a solo action scene... or give him a kiss scene to make things more dramatic!”

“Is defeating the big bad and saving the heroine not dramatic enough for you, already?” Emet’s voice is in part mocking as it is exasperated, his arms thrown up to his shoulders in a shrug. “Also I hope you didn’t mean a kiss scene with Liliya.”

“W-what-?? I-” Illya’s mouth hangs agape.

“No! I wasn’t thinking anyone in particular, honest. Besides, she’s already caught in that love triangle subplot with the twins, isn’t she?”

At the mention of the topic, the lalafellin woman’s smile fades.

“D-don’t remind me of that. I’m really not looking forward to acting those scenes out.”

She’s already read the script for the fourth season in it’s entirety... and though she has incredible respect for the masterful writing and the wonderful character dynamics that has only gotten better with each passing season... she has never been... entirely comfortable with the romantic aspects of the scenes involving the elven twins. Scenes of the pair vying for her attention, scenes where she held hands and even got unsettingly close to kissing them...

Though, she will admit... her own uncertainty over her competence in filming those scenes are a result of her own, very personal emotions... something of which Emet Selch seemed to be more than aware of.

“Is it not because you harbor actual feelings for one of them? Would having scenes of you being close to him not be a blessing for you, then?”

The miffed glare Illya’s shoots up at Emet rivals moments of shadow possession Liliya experiences throughout the show, and he can only shrug with a cocky grin as her star-spangled swirl with indignation. Anger aside, heat is spreading across her cheeks in the form of a burning red hue that reaches the tips of her short, pointed ears.

Please stop.

Her expression spells out. She’s as annoyed as she her frightened about something.

Oh dear.

“Relax. Workplace romance here is nothing new.” His words only serve to worsen the already infuriated gleam in her blazing, shimmering eyes. “Mint certainly isn’t shy when it comes to showing she’s in a relationship with Estinien. Nor your friend Laurelis for that matter. She’s still keeping in touch with Haurchefant, no?”

Illya doesn’t say anything, but her silence and the paling of her complexion speaks louder than any words she can spill from her lips.

It’s precisely because he doesn’t know. So please, please shut your mouth.

He still cannot understand why on earth she would stay so adamant about keeping her feelings a secret anyway. For all he knows, the entire cast of actors... and the whole final fantasy crew for that matter, was fully aware of their pining - and Illya’s feelings towards her close co-worker and friend wasn’t unrequited either.

Just like in the show, the pair are completely oblivious to their attraction to one another... something he’ll just have to fix with his bare hands then...

But the matter is neither here nor there, and there was something of greater urgency to rectify now.

Emet Selch turns his gaze back down to G’raha, who has gone uncharacteristically quiet... and sensing his seriousness, Illya too diverts her attention back to the sulking redhead.

“You know... you’re a very talented actor. It’s so very rare to find someone who can capture the emotions and nuances of a character as well as you do.” Emet is the faster of them to speak, and Illya can barely believe the words she’s hearing leave his lips.

Compliments and praise, genuine ones at that, coming from one of the cast’s eldest, most experienced actor who is not only known to be critical when it comes to the art of acting - but is a certified acting coach himself? The monumental honor is not lost to G’raha, as his ears perk up and he whips his head up with widened ruby eyes to look at Emet.

“Death is difficult to portray - dare I say, almost impossible. After all, how can we, who have never experienced death... truly capture the sorrow and despair in it?”

Emet Selch pauses, drawing in a breath before he lifts his hand up to gesture at the pair before him.

“Which is why this is your biggest opportunity to showcase your talents, to move the audience with not just the story, but your very acting! The only thing we can do, as men and women of this field, is to act as vehicles and carry the emotions of the story into the hearts of the fans.”

The man finally sighs, shoulders falling and arms flopping lazily to his side, the sentimentality of the words he just spoke tasting bitter on his tongue.

“Besides, even in death there is a beauty. The crystal exarch lived his life fulfilled and having realized his wish at the end. I expect you to remember that when you eventually see him off.”

There’s a silence that hangs and festers in the air for a moment, before the fur on G’raha’s tail stands and his chest puffs up in a show of renewed determination.

“Y-you’re right, Emet! The crystal exarch dedicated his life to finding a way to save others... There is no better way to end his legacy than to see the world he’s protected for so long finally saved!”

Standing onto his feet, the miqo’te clenches his hands into fists and nods before casting a glance down at Illya.

“Illya! I will act my heart out to the best I can! I’ll act so hard that I’ll make you cry on set for sure!”

The corners of her lip tugs upwards into a wide smile, glowing as the afternoon sun basks down and reflects upon her snowy white hair and the blossoms of her amethyst eyes. Even with the black of the garments she wore and the eastern patterned ribbon that held the braid around her head in place, she was luminous and blinding in her radiant presence... not unlike the heroine of their story.

“Of course! And I’m sure the rest of the crystal exarch fan club will too when they watch that episode.”

“Illya, G’raha!” A pink haired lalafellin calls out to them from a distance away, her olive green eyes wide and excited as she waves her hands high above her head. A raven haired man stands just behind her, his dark blue eyes narrowed as he reviews the script in his hands intently. “We’re starting soon! Get over here!”

“Coming! Just give us a second!” G’raha waves back with a grin before turning back to look at Emet Selch with an apologetic, yet grateful bow, his relaxed tail swaying gently from side to side behind his back.

“Thank you, Emet. I won’t soon forget your encouragements. I’ll do my best and make sure to not let everyone down.”

“Yes, yes. Spare me the nauseating mush. I was just making sure you didn’t drag your co-actor down with your sulking.”

The elder man now glances at the starry eyed girl with amusement flashing through his expression, and Illya can already feel her earlier lighthearted elation fade as quickly as it came.

“By the way... I’m sure if you asked Yoshida properly.. he’d be willing to consider writing in a kiss scene with Liliya and-”

“If I were the warrior of darkness, I’d take my crescent moon cane and stab you with the end of it......”

------

Meanwhile, a little distance away from the trio, Kaye lets out a low hum as he reads and re-reads the words upon the small stacks of paper he held, expression doubtful and confused.

“You sure this is the script to Endwalker?”

“Yeah, I am! Alphinaud gave this copy and said that he got from miss Ishikawa directly! Apparently he’s playing another major role in the next season, which is why he got the script early as a heads up.”

“But... it says here that the crystal exarch gets reincarnated? Assuming that’s not gonna be changed... that means G’raha’s gonna be...”

Kaye’s head lifts and turns, eyes wide and brows furrowing in bemusement only to see an impish smile glimmer upon Lily’s face.

“Should we tell him?”

“Hm...? Nah... He’s gonna film the exarch’s death scene soon, right? I’m sure he’ll appreciate the little surprise later, anyways.”

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #g'raha tia #emet selch #illya skawi #g'raha #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #fanfic #mine #I've only had this au for a day and I've already written a fill for it lmao #*pumps fist*

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

I Hope That Something Better Comes Along

Today is the third day of HWOL!!! I chose Hurt/Comfort as the prompt! This story is cross posted on my ao3 at ej_writer if ya wanna check it out over there!!!

Word Count: 3,463

Rating: T

Warnings: Repeated Mentions of Domestic Violence + Gun Violence (there is no fighting or anything on screen but the aftermath, both physical and psychological is described explicitly)

The roaring engine of a Camaro z28 the next street over, the sound of keys jingling outside the front door, the stairs creaking under the weight of booted footfalls; Steve knows Billy finally made it.

He’d been expecting him for the last three and a half hours. They were going to go into the city just to find something to do, anything at all to be together and far away from here.

Clearly those plans had changed, but only because Steve knew not to wait up for Billy. If at all possible, he was always the most punctual person. If Steve said be there quarter to five, the doorbell would ring the very second the clock struck 4:45. So once the hands ticked well past midnight, he knew it wasn’t going to happen.

It’s for that same reason that, when Billy pushes open the door to his bedroom, announcing his presence with a quiet, rough little “S’me Stevie.” barely audible even in the silence of the night, he already knows something bad has happened.

Laying on his side, his back is to Billy’s side of the bed. Steve waits for the other boy to get settled, to kick off his shoes and let himself fall back onto the bed, slowly letting out a shaky sigh before he asks, “What happened, B?”

“Forgot I was s’posed to take Max to some school thing today.” Billy’s voice sounds worn out and scratchy and so, so tired.

“Is it bad?” He tries not to sound upset, he knows it only makes Billy feel worse, but he hates this routine more than anything, his boyfriend showing up at any hour of the night all worse for wear.

The worst part is probably how unaffected by it Billy pretends to be. “Haven’t checked.”

A long stretch of silence sits heavy in the room before Steve has the courage to ask, “Can I see you?”

The blankets rustle behind him as Billy, propping himself up on one elbow, reaches over top of Steve to the nightstand. Steve shifts so he’s on his back, and they’re face to face in the pitch darkness.

With a click of the little golden chain, the room is illuminated with a soft yellow glow, enough that they can see each other clearly. It’s a ghastly sight that Steve is met with.

Billy, poor Billy, with dried blood smeared on his chin, in his browline, on his knuckles, bruises and cuts littering his pretty face, turning it swollen and pale. He lets his hand fall from the lamp to rest against Steve’s cheek, his thumb rubbing circles on the smooth skin there.

Being able to see the damage takes Steve’s breath away. He whispers out, “Oh, Billy.”

But Billy can’t look Steve in the eye, his gaze focusing instead on the little hairs at the back of Steve’s neck fanning out across the pillow, on the moles that litter his face and neck, pretty much anywhere that he can to avoid the sympathetic look he’ll find in his eyes.

Because he’s already so weak, with tears already wetting his eyes, he just knows he’ll break if he does.

Steve wraps his arms up around the back of Billy’s neck, tangling his hands in his long hair, and says again, the shocked state his mind is in leaving it unable to come up with any other intelligent thought, “Oh, Billy.”

It’s the tremor in Steve’s quiet voice, the genuine, gentle concern that he finds there that does him in.

Billy sobs dry in his throat before any tears spill over, and lets his arms give out from under him so he’s laying on top of Steve, who wraps his own arms around him that much tighter.

Steve tries to comfort him, presses kisses to the top of his head and whispers little reassurances, “You’re alright baby. I got ya.“ but this is bad, the kind of breakdown that only happens when Billy’s scared, inconsolable.

“He’s g-gonna kill me.” Billy whispers into Steve’s neck.

Steve tries to comfort him, choosing his words carefully to not make him more upset. “No he's not, baby. M’not gonna let that happen.”

“He is. He s-said-“ His words trail off into a whine and a sob in his throat.

And Steve doesn’t like to ask Billy questions when he’s upset, but he can sometimes shut down for so long that it’s necessary to help him. “What’d he say B?”

“Gonna-Gonna replace me.”

“He won’t do that, sweetheart. He just wants to scare you.” Steve like to rationalize when Billy’s like this, prove to him that Neil said these things with specific intent to get him upset.

But Billy isn’t having it, shakes his head and explains, his voice breaking with the effort of stifling his tears. “No. He-he had a gun.”

And that just, takes the air right out of Steve’s lungs. It’s never been that bad before, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

Because what he wants to do is panic, to call the goddamned cops on Neil Hargrove and get his ass put away forever, but for Billy, shaking and crying on top of him, that’s the very last thing he needs to do right now.

He tries to assure him, “You’re safe. He can’t hurt you here,” but Billy’s not listening, his head is somewhere else.

Steve recognizes that place as being in the beginning stages of a panic attack.

They’d dealt with quite a few of those, mostly on nights when something bad like this happened. He thinks he’s pretty in tune with what he’s supposed to do by now, but after they happen Billy’s always downplaying them, pretending like nothings wrong so Steve will stop feeling sorry for him.

“Hey, Bills, are you with me?” Billy’s a crier, so sometimes it’s not a panic attack, and he’ll be okay with just a little bit of TLC.

All he gets in response is a muffled whine against his chest, and that’s how he knows now isn’t one of those times.

Billy can’t speak when he’s panicking, sometimes he still can’t for hours after it’s over either, and that’s usually how Steve can tell if he needs to put a little more careful effort into helping him.

“Okay B, can you sit up for me?” It was better for him not to lay down, he’d told him that his ribs felt like they were cracking with the effort of him trying to catch his breath if he was on his back, so Steve always tried to get him sitting up.

But when he started to panic like this, Billy would basically shut down entirely, stop doing much of anything on his own and become dead weight.

Steve had to do all the work getting him off of him and sitting up against the headboard, and for a second, Billy panics in his hold. Thrashes against the arms holding him up to try to get away from his touch.

Steve lets go of him in a heartbeat, backing up to let Billy sit himself the rest of the way up.

He holds his hands up and apologizes, makes himself as unthreatening as possible. “I’m sorry, Billy, it’s just me. It’s just Steve. You’re okay.”

Billy looks at him and nods as a little acknowledgment, but his eyes go out of focus, and Steve notices him taking too shallow breaths, his cheeks flushing with the effort. “Can you breathe?”

Another shake of his head, followed by a broken off sob.

“Okay, look at me Billy, you’re alright, just gotta breathe for me baby.” He gets a hand behind his back, waiting to see if the touch is okay before rubbing circles as he tells him what to do to keep the panic from getting worse.

“In for five, out for five.” It’s real shaky, barely works to get any air into his lungs, but Billy tries, does it through the tears, choking on the deep breath in just a little. “Good. Again.”

It’s not as deep as it should be, and the breath out gets interrupted by another sob, but it’s working at least a little in the sense that the number of breaths he’s trying to take has slowed down significantly.

“That's it. You’re doing so good, Bills. One more time for me, alright?”

Still not perfect, but he’s not struggling for air anymore, so Steve’ll take what he can get. He lets him stop, because doing the breathing exercises too many times has been known to send Billy into a deeper spiral of thinking he forgot how to breathe and starting the attack all over.

“There, you got it.” He moves the hand he had on Billy’s back up to rest at the base of his neck, still using his fingers to draw comforting circles into his skin.“You did such a good job baby.”

Billy ignores the praise, lets his head fall back against the headboard and closes his eyes. He reaches for Steve’s other hand, grasping it tight as he can when the other boy laces their fingers together.

The tears are finally slowing to a stop, so Steve thinks it’s safe to move on to the next step. “We gotta get you cleaned up. Are you gonna be okay for me to do that?”

“Yeah.” Billy says without moving, his voice all scratchy and weak from sobbing, but Steve’s proud of him for even saying anything.

When Steve lets go of his hand and gets up, Billy goes to do the same, moving down the pillows so he can swing his legs over the side of the bed, but there’s no way Steve is going to make him walk down the steps to the first aid kid after that.

He puts his hand on Billy’s chest to keep him from getting up. “Uh-uh, you’re staying right here. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Don’t need you babyin’ me.” But he doesn’t make any more moves to stand up, just looks down at Steve’s carpet with a look of something like shame on his face.

“I’m taking care of you. It’s different.” He bends down and kisses Billy’s forehead, runs his hand down the back of his hair once. “Stay put, I’ll be right back.”

He hurries down to the kitchen where his mother keeps the band aid kit under the sink, grabbing on his way a couple of wet washcloths, a glass of water with ice cubes from the fridge, and a bottle of Benadryl.

When he gets back to his room, Billy’s where he left him, but he’s got one of Steve’s pillows clutched to his chest and his face buried in it.

Steve announces himself with a knock on the door frame and a “Hey.” so he doesn’t scare Billy, the other boy looking up at him for just a second before letting his gaze fall again.

He sets all of his stuff on the nightstand and grabs his desk chair, wheeling it around to the bed. One of the washcloths goes on the back of Billy’s neck to keep him alert, a trick Steve learned as a squeamish child from his grandma, and he makes him take a Benadryl before he’ll touch him.

“Please tell me if I hurt you.” He says, and waits for Billy to nod his response before he scoots the desk chair closer, so his knees are between Billy’s legs while he tends to the damage.

His face is the worst of it by far, getting worse by the minute with time for the bruises to settle. Steve’s first order of business is wipe all the blood off and figure out how bad it was underneath.

It’s not the worst he’s seen it by far, but there’s at least a dozen little scratches all over from Neil’s rings, a good portion of them deep enough to need bandaids, and bruises on his jaw and his cheekbone and his temple, already deep and dark.

Most of the blood seems to have been Neil’s, from breaking the skin on his knuckles open again and again as he hit his son.

But Steve notices there’s a few bruises and a split on one of Billy’s own knuckles, and the picture starts to come together.

If he had to guess, he’d say Billy had probably fought back. That he was getting his face beat in and threw a punch to defend himself, and Neil got so pissed off at the threat to his authority that he resorted to drastic measures to get his son back in line.

He sighs and takes Billy’s hand in his own, dragging the damp cloth across it to get the blood, before it could start to stain his skin, off. When he it pulls away the skins all irritated, and Steve brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss there where it was split.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Billy, and Steve feels his fingers twitch as he fights the urge to pull away from the tenderness.

When he turns the chair to the nightstand to get another butterfly bandage for his knuckles, Billy blurts out, “I love you.”

Steve, admittedly a little taken aback smiles at him, it’s the first time Billy’s ever said it. “I love you too.”

~~~~~~

It doesn’t take long for the medicine in Billy’s system to kick in, and he’s out like a light, snoring heavily like nothing even happened. Steve finds the opposite to be true for him.

He’s too busy worrying about literally everything to be able to sleep. He just doesn’t know, what is he even supposed to do?

The cops aren’t an option, the Hawkins police were less than useless when it came to domestic violence. Steve remembers hearing that Joyce Byers called the police on her husband, and they insisted she was hysterical and over-dramatizing the situation until she ended up in the hospital, and he fleeing the city.

Tommy Hagan’s dad had called 911 on his wife once, and the cops never even showed up to check it out, said they’d file a report and hung up on him. Poor Tommy still had scars from the outburst that could’ve been prevented if anyone had done anything.

For that reason alone, Steve knows he can’t call down to the station with his concerns about Neil. If word got back to the old prick that he’d been snitched on and no arrest was made, he was sure the safety would go off, and Billy’d be just another example, another warning against getting help.

So Steve tries and tries to think of any way he might be able to do something, and there’s only one in particular that stands out in his mind’s eye: to move away. To load their shit in the back of Billy’s car because he had the title, and ditch this sorry town to go far, far away from all their troubles and out of control father.

How exactly he was going to convince him they had to leave though, Steve had no clue. He already knows Billy would say no, emphasized with a resounding fuck you Steve Harrington, because he would have to leave his sister behind, most of his stuff too unless they could sneak back into his house and smuggle it out somehow, and he’d never agree to that.

Leaving had been brought up a few times before, the first being towards the beginning of when they started dating, and they were figuring out each other's boundaries about the future. Billy had made it explicitly clear from the start then that he wasn’t stepping foot off of Hawkins soil unless his sister was coming with him.

Steve knew Billy’d probably take the bullet on purpose if it meant Max was safe, and he couldn’t do that if he had fucked off somewhere to hide from his problems.

But Steve isn’t letting him go back there, he’s made up his mind on that. They’ve gone through far too many rounds of this, this awful fucking game where he’s never sure if Billy will come back to him, or if the next time he’ll see him is in a body bag, and he just won’t do it again.

Because really, how many more turns did they have before the little red button wasn’t clicked in when he pulled the trigger?

He’s tired too of giving in to Billy begging him to go back there every time something like this happened. To check on Max he said, even though they both knew it was deeper than that.

Not that Billy ever told a soul this, but Steve could tell it wasn’t just for Max, in part, it was for her mother too, he felt like he deserved to take the beatings instead of his step-mom and sister. But more than anything, it was because of Neil.

The abuse wasn’t purely physical, and, though Billy pretended like he was too tough to let it get to him, his dad had been in his head for years. Everything he thought had to go through a filter of, would Neil approve of this? Was he going to get his ass kicked if he did this, or was he going to get praised if he did this instead?

After so many years of doing that, it’s completely automatic now. Every single thing he did pandered to what his dad was okay with, what would get him the slightest bit of anything other than hostility from his dad.

And it’s apparent in all of him, the cigarettes he smoked, the car he drove, the way he talked, and got in fights, all of it was just to impress his dad, to meet his expectations for what kind of son he should have.

It’s for the same reasons that he can’t just drop everything and leave. Neil was always droning on about the importance of family, the whole, ‘I may not like you sometimes, but I’ll always love you thing’ and it really got in Billy’s head.

He didn’t think he could leave, no matter how much he wanted to. He thought that bullshit bond of family, whatever the hell that even meant, kept him tied down.

It’s a horrible cycle for Steve to witness, the young son desperate for a fathers approval even after years of torture by his hand, bending over backwards to do everything right and still getting treated the way he did.

He wishes taking him away would solve everything so he could just be safe. He wishes he could get Billy to realize he didn’t have to be a good son for a monster of a father. He wishes they could just be happy.

At some point in the night, Billy, still completely out of it from the antihistamines and not caring at all about personal space, rolls over so his back was to Steve’s chest.

The contact brings Steve back down to earth, as he blinks his bleary eyes, all tired from just staring up at the ceiling instead of sleeping. He squints at the clock on the far wall and realizes he’s spent the last hour doomsday prepping, working himself up over a conversation that he didn’t even know how it would turn out.

Who knows, maybe this time Billy would accept the offer, would happily agree to let Steve take him as far away from the flying of fists and the lies slipping past beer rotted teeth and the press of cool metal against skin as the Camaro would let him.

He runs his fingers through Billy’s hair splayed out across his chest and let’s a long sigh out through his nose. It was funny how it was Billy who could look so peaceful while Steve was fretting over him, but maybe that wasn’t really funny at all, that he was so used to this that he could still relax without all the fears that were keeping the boy beside him awake.

That’s the thought that comforts Steve as he drifts off to sleep, the idea that, if Billy could do it, could face the uncertainty every time he walked back through his own front door, and deal with the pain on every level from what his father did to him, then he could too.

He would bring it up with Billy in the morning, tell him what he’d been thinking about, and he wouldn’t be a pushover this time.

No more reluctantly agreeing to let him go back just to deal with the heartbreaking fallout a few hours later, and no more biting his tongue while Billy pretended he could do it on his own.

Steve was going to save Billy, whether he liked it or not.

#harringrove week of love #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #this idea has been floating around in my brain and I thought this was a good time to share it #there will most likely be a continuation for this I just didn’t want this getting too long for the event

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.28

A Dangerous Homecoming

04/08/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,529

Warnings: wounds, blood, language, fluff

A/N: We are in the home stretch my loves. The end is in sight. Hopefully I can speed up my momentum. I have the chapters outlined out but always seem to slow down when I’m near the end. I’ve done it with lots of my stories. And I am SORRY. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Consciousness isn’t something that Steve is often at odds with.

From that fateful day when his mother gave in to her most rabid of fears and made her deal with the Sun Witch. With Doctor Erskine’s enthusiastic encouragement and his own experimental flare, Steve’s fate was changed.

He was altered, irrevocably so. The man he might have grown up to be—or rather, the man he would have died as—had disappeared and in his place a new one was formed. One of drive but not ambition. One with the will to do good and now with the strength to do so.

Steve had been blessed with the body to fight, but now he understands that he was also cursed to drag everyone he loves into the darkness opposite his light.

He gasps, sweating into his expensive and ridiculously extravagant tunic. The dark blue, etched in delicate silver and blacks is nearly soaked through.

His dark gray undershirt clings to his wounded and bruised form.

His lungs struggle for breath as his fear mounts, choking him as silver steel eyes grow dark, black, and dangerous. A curtain of deep chestnut hair flutters around a pale but cold bitten face. There’s a gleam to this man’s left and a fist curls with a keening cry as metal bends.

Steve’s hands twitch. His lips part, dried blood crackling around the edges of his lips.

His fever rages, burning hotter than he’s ever burnt before. The wound in his side stings. The pain is consistent until suddenly it stops.

As the dark eyes charge forward, his weapon hand raised to strike, a soft dampness coaxes Steve away from the image. He gasps, death poised to strike only inches away, when a soft whisper pulls him out.

“Shhhh.” The whisper says and Steve lashes out.

His eyes open wide, his hand closed tight around muscle and bone.

“Ow.” You whisper, pained but also controlled.

Steve’s eyes search and find you to his left, right hand angled painfully away from his face with a damp piece of cloth in its grasp.

“You’re safe.” You tell him gently, trying to convince him. “You’re alright.”

The panic in his chest dissipates. His heart begins to slow. There’s a searing burn on his left side and he looks down to see his shirt and tunic pulled up to expose a long wound now stitched together and freshly cleaned.

“Steve…” You plead. “My hand.”

His panic returns and he drops your wrist. “Did I hurt you?”

He pushes himself up but stops as you place a restraining hand on his chest.

“Don’t get up.” You order.

And it is and order. No doubt about it.

Though Steve knows that you take your role as Queen of Broklin very seriously, he has never heard you use that very authority on him and it strokes it heartstrings like a harp.

He sits back, resting against what feels like sacks of grain. It isn’t exactly soft but it’s better than the ground. Beneath his is warm mattress, hay by the feel of it. Grass too probably.

With his senses returning, he takes a quick look around where you’ve brought him.

“Where are we?”

“My home.” You tell him, resuming the cleaning of his face. “Or it used to be.”

You gently massage away the grime from his skin. The blood caked on his scratches and cuts require a bit more pressure but you’re as gentle as can be.

While you work, he takes it in. Your once home.

It’s small. Only one room, slightly smaller than his study back in Broklin.

The floor is made of aged wood that creaks as you shift on your knees to reach the far side of his neck.

There are small holes and cracks, moldy spots of green in one corner. In another a vibrant yellow weed pokes through from the ground below.

The wattle walls have been painted to attempt a brighter interior. The paint is scarce. He can see how you tried your best to make this little room a home.

The windows, all without panes of glass and only shutters to keep out the cold in winter, have begun to crumble and splinter. A vine has begun to take over, weaving it’s way in and up into the leaky thatched roof.

“Sorry about the water. It started raining while I was in the village.” You explain and his eyes hone in on you.

“You went out alone?” He demands, fear beginning to grab hold.

“Just for a little bit.” You stop your cleaning, meeting his fretful gaze with what he knows now is a stubborn will to be independent. “I needed to get some food and clean scraps for your wounds.”

Steve frowns, hating that you'd gone anywhere without him.

He reaches up to place his hand along your left cheek, caressing your skin until his finger finds a small three inch pucker across your cheek bone.

“You’re hurt.” He hates it. He hates it so much his stomach begins to bubble with bile.

“It’s just a scratch, Steve.” You shake your head, then lean towards him again to resume your cleaning. “Luckily my old sewing box was still in the cupboard. I tended your wound as best I could but we should get it looked at properly.

“I don’t want you getting an infection.” You sigh.

Steve’s turns towards the cupboard beside the small table by the fire you’ve got going. There’s an old rusty pot resting just beyond, handle broken.

All of your furniture, including this bed that he’s laying on is of the poorest quality. With you gone and without your care, even though it’s been under a year, it has fallen into disrepair.

“I won’t.” Steve assures you, looking at the sewing box by your legs, resting on the tattered skirts if your once fine dress.

“That won’t work on me, Steve. You’re seeing a doctor as soon as we’re with father.” You frown.

“No.” He shakes his head, looking at your stubborn pout.

He could kiss you. He loves the way you are bot afraid to challenge him or show you care. You love him so openly. With no fear.

He’s never known this kind of love. Freely given with no thought of restraint.

“I mean, I can’t catch an infection.” Steve explains. “I’m already healing. Even my fever is already gone.”

You almost dive towards his cheeks, hand thrown out to feel his temperature. You press your little—well, little to him—palm against his forehead and wait.

Steve can’t help but love you in every moment that you are by his side.

Especially now as you teeter over him, face screwed up with concerned concentration. You’re a mess. Like him.

Skin broken in small places from rocks and the falls you took. Hair completely disheveled. Your crown, the smaller one he’d had made for your outdoor events, is gone. Lost somewhere in the crowd and amongst the fight.

He doesn’t dare bring it to your attention.

His eyes naturally follow the curve of your throat down to your chest, and then finally your stomach.

His calm glee at your fussing quickly fades as the small swell of your stomach—more noticeable to him day after day—grabs hold of his attention completely.

With two hands he cups the bump, wondering if he might somehow know how the little prince is in your belly. His son.

“How are you feeling?” He checks, meeting your gaze which calms as you sit back onto your ankles and place your hands over his.

“He’s alright.” You stroke his fingers, a gesture of comfort. “I was a little worried while we were walking. After the carriage flipped over, I didn’t feel him for a while, but he did wiggle a bit as we walked here.”

Steve feels a rush of relief, grateful to you for always being your shared son’s protector. He knows how much you love him already.

“That’s not what I asked.” Steve clarifies, eyebrows raised high as he waits.

“I’m fine, Steve. A little tired. Achy but that’s to be expected after today. And very worried.” You sigh, shoulders rising high and dropping low as you slouch with the weight of your grief.

Steve knows what you’re thinking about, because he’s been thinking about it too.

He thought about how far he needed to get you away from the city. And Bucky. He thought about his son and his health. And Bucky. He worried about his friends. And Bucky. He wished he could do more for the innocents he’d left behind. And Bucky.

“They’ll have subdued him by now.” Steve promises.

“How do you know? He was so…so lethal, Steve. I’ve never seen him like that. How is it even possible?”

Steve takes a slow breath, knowing that it’s time for this story. He would have preferred for Bucky to tell you himself, but this time…he’ll have to make an exception.

“There’s something you should know about Bucky.” He begins, but you nod.

“This has to do with him being taken a few years ago?” You offer, entirely more knowledgeable than he’d expected you to be. You never cease to amaze him. He shouldn’t be surprised.

You’re smart as a whip. Perhaps not by a Lady’s standards, but you know more than anyone knows. You’re observant and your common sense and instinct is unparalleled.

If you weren’t so important to him, so precious; if you weren’t his only love and the mother of his child, he would recruit you onto the team and find a way to make you impervious to harm.

Maybe find a witch to bewitch you the way they’d done him or even Peter.

“How do you-?”

“The other day when Nat and I spent some time together alone, she alluded to a story. She didn’t tell me, but she said she would. Later.” You explain and Steve can see the resignation of your all too special patience.

“I suppose it’s later.” Steve nods. “A few years ago, Bucky, Nat, Clint, and I were on a quest to find one of the secret Hydra camps in the Southern forests. The deep south. In the elder wood.”

He watches as you bring out your feet from under you and settle on the floor. He hates it, you on the hard surface while he’s on the soft bed…but if he asks you to sit with him, you’ll argue.

“He was gone for weeks. Nat was inconsolable. Clint did what he could but eventually they had to move on. They had things to attend to. Responsibilities. Thor had to go back to Asgard, Tony had to help Pepper run his own Kingdom, and although I—I should have gone back to ruling Broklin, but I couldn’t give up.

“Nat and I kept searching. How could we stop looking? Bucky is…he was my only remaining family. And for Nat…well, it would be like when I lost you. Knowing you’re out there with no way of knowing whether you’re safe, only we knew that Bucky wasn’t.”

“This was after Margaret’s death?” You probe carefully, fearful it seems in upsetting him.

He’s driven that fear into you and it upsets him that you feel you can’t be open with him about Margaret. It’s his own fault.

Steve nods. “Only just. It was so fresh. Her death…and I was grateful for the distraction; however painful it was. The thought of losing Bucky too after everything with Maggie…I couldn’t stand it. I was determined in finding him. As was Nat.”

Steve can almost sense his own desperation again. It was just as bad as when you were missing. He ignores the ache in his chest at both memories and instead presses on, pushing those bad times out of his mind.

You’re here, attentive and precious in front of him. He won’t waste another moment on the thought of you anywhere but at his side.

“When we finally found him, he’d been strapped to a wooden bed with no mattress in the lowest level of a ruined castle. It was damp but hot, as we were farther South than I’d ever been. Although Natasha knew the territory well and we were able to search it with ease thanks to her expertise.

“For the most part, Bucky seemed fine. He was a little tired when we pulled him out of that wretched cell, but he was happy to be with Natasha again.

“His arm…it was gone. Replaced by the one he has now. When we asked him what had happened to it, he said that he didn’t remember and that it did hurt, but not as much as he might have thought it would to lose an arm.”

“Weren’t any of you worried about what they’d done to him?” You ask in shock, voice tight and whispered. Steve can only guess at what has you so spooked but he’s certain it’s the loss of Bucky’s arm. Here was no grand tale of him losing it in battle.

One day it was there, the next it was gone.

“Yes. Of course. Nat and I more than the others because we couldn’t understand why they would take him only to do that to his arm. So, we kept a very close eye on him. We secluded him to one room in the castle with guards at his door day and night.

“Tony was also very suspicious. Only Tony…Tony wanted to do more than just keep an eye on him.” Steve says, voice dropping low and his eyes going dark at the memory of Tony’s panic, the fear in his eyes as he looked at Bucky laying unconscious as he recovered.

A perceived threat. But to Steve, it was Bucky. His friend and brother. Like hell he was going to let anyone hurt him any more than he’d already been injured.

As Steve can’t fight his anger, with his brow furrowed, you seem to realize suddenly that this must have been what drove your Father and Steve apart. This was what had needed your marriage to bridge the divide in their relationship.

“He wanted to lock him up permanently.” You say, not surprised one bit, but a little disappointed? “Or worse…”

As Steve’s gaze meets yours, you read his eyes like no one else in his life can and realize that Tony had actually tried to do something about it, not simply wanted to.

“What did he do?” You barely manage to say.

“It doesn’t matter. The point is, I fought for Bucky. Nat did too. We were split, though Thor and Bruce weren’t there for the fallout, everyone else was.

“Peter was the only one who managed to balance both sides even though he initially fought with Tony. He realized what this would mean and helped mediate a stop to our quarrel. At least for a while.

“Tony and I didn’t speak again until we arranged a marriage between Morgana and myself with the full intention of having it end before we could ever truly consummate the marriage. That’s where you came in.” Steve sighs, feeling a surge of gratitude for you.

He doesn’t even plan for it to happen, but his voice becomes softer as he reaches out to stroke the curve of your chin. Caressing you whenever he has the chance. How long will you allow him to show you his affections?

He cannot be touching you always, despite his desire to do so. He must maintain some form of decorum in front of his friends and subjects.

However, here in the dimly lit home of your past, he can be as free with his love as he pleases.

You catch his hand and release a held breath, looking appeased and happy to feel the heat of his skin, just as he relishes in yours.

“So, Bucky never showed any signs of mental manipulation until today?” You wonder.

“No. Nothing until today. When nothing happened, we assumed he was fine.” Steve sighs heavily, the weight of his fight with Bucky weighing heavy on his shoulders. Had he missed some sort of clue? Had there been an indicator of what was to come? Had he been blind because of how close he was with Bucky. “It’s been more than two years…”

As if that might ease his strife. It doesn’t. It only makes him worry that maybe there is more to come. What if it isn’t over? What if they’ve turned his friend into someone dangerous permanently?

Steve pulls you a little closer and you shift for him, moving where he wants you. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer. He isn’t satisfied until you’re right against his side, your hands pressed against his chest where your fingers take to restlessly twitching against the loose threads of his shirt.

He watches you, so grateful that you’re safe. You’re as lost in thought as he is. Reliving the terrible day just as he is, no doubt.

Steve’s arm tightens again, and you look up to meet his eyes. Your own worry seems to dissipate as you see the stress in his.

As much as he loves Bucky. He can’t help but think how close he came to taking you from him today. How easily his life might have changed again. For the worse.

With a small quiet sigh, you reach up towards his cheek and begin to wipe at the smudged dirt there but stop after two swipes, eyes going wide as you stare into Steve’s storm blues.

“What?” Steve asks, seeing the shift in your expression. “What’s the matter?”

“I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t think it was important.” You begin, and Steve can hardly breathe.

“Didn’t tell me what, flower?” He coaxes, adjusting on the bed to sit up a little straighter.

“I…I think I know what happened. What set Bucky off today.” Steve begins to speak but you’re quick to shake your head to silence him and he obeys you, shushing if that is what you wish. “I didn’t think it was real. I was just waking up in the carriage when I saw it. I was drifting in and out, but I found it odd and even asked father about it.”

Steve’s impatience begins to prod at him, but he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet for you.

“Now that I think about it, I didn’t see him any other time except for that moment.” You shake your head, shutting your eyes as you struggle to pull the image together in your mind it looks like, so Steve reaches up to cup your cheek.

“Tell me.” He pleads gently, forced but willing.

When you meet his eyes again, he can see the terror there but also the absolute certainty.

“I saw Lord Pierce across the square, getting out of a carriage. Bucky was there with him. Looking upset, I think. Then Lord Pierce leaned in and whispered something into Bucky’s ear.

“He went a little stiff, his face went blank, but then I must have gone under for a moment and when I opened my eyes, Bucky was gone. Lord Pierce was gone too.

“Even then, my heart was racing. I knew that what I saw wasn’t good, but I could have been dreaming it. And when I asked father if Lord Pierce was in attendance at the procession, he said that he wasn’t. That he’d made sure to exclude him purposely. So, I put it out of my mind.”

Steve’s hands are claws against your back, the rage within him is nearly choking. He wants to scream. To destroy. If he weren’t injured, he might have even torn your house apart with his bare hands.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, he assumes because you can feel his upset.

“No.” He manages to say, voice deep and quaking with his anger. “No, Y/N. You did right to tell me now. I don’t blame you.”

“But I should have said something.” You fret.

Steve looks down at your belly, the agony of almost having lost both of you today eats at him and helps calm him. It levels him out and he breathes in slowly, then releases the breath but pulls you to him in a soft embrace.

“You’re safe.” He shuts his eyes, really letting himself feel you there in his arms. He trails one hand down to rest on your stomach, tracing the shape of the small curve. “You both are. That’s all that matters.”

“What does this mean for the kingdom? For Lord Pierce? For Bucky?” You ask him, looking to him for a response to this new crisis.

Steve doesn’t often feel as if he is a king with people who depend on him.

Though he knows that he does indeed have a responsibility to his people, he doesn’t often feel as if he’s looked on for leadership. Those moments when someone is truly waiting for him to make a decision.

In your eyes he sees devotion and respect. He sees a genuine intention to follow. And yet he knows that even with this willingness, you would easily disagree with him if you felt it were important.

Everyday you are proving to him that you are not only the woman he loves, but the Queen he has needed at his side.

With you beside him, he truly feels as though he could rule his Kingdom with confidence, with grace, and with a will to do better. For you. For his son. And for all of the people who depend on him.

“I will issue a warrant for his arrest.” Steve declares, confident in his decision. “I will state his crimes clearly so that everyone may see what a snake he is. It will ruin his name and he will have no choice but to either turn himself in for trial or run.”

“What if he runs?”

“Then we will follow.” He nods. “He’ll pay for what he did to Bucky. He’ll pay for what he’s done to you.”

You lift your chin, filled with what he hopes is belief that he can do it. That he can bring Pierce to his knees.

“No one hurts my family and gets away with it.” Steve declares. “No one.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing?!” Natasha shouts, shoving herself between Tony and Bucky, fully intent on punching if the need should arise.

The beautiful pale stones of Tony’s castle are a stark contrast to the horrors on the bed behind her.

Natasha glances back at Bucky, wary of the amount of blood he’s losing from the countless wounds to his torso.

What tortures her further is the knowledge that she was the one that put three of those stabs into his side.

She’d been careful to avoid his most sensitive spots, but after he’d woken up on the way home, he’d tried to fight his way out.

It took a hard hit from Tony to the back of the head to knock him out completely and he hasn’t woken up since.

“I need to remove the metal of his arm.” Tony replies exasperated with Natasha’s meddling.

“I needs to wait.” She says.

“It can’t. Bruce said I need to remove it immediately. He’ll have to treat that wound too to prevent infection.

Natasha licks her lips, her green eyes blazing with fear.

“Nat…Let me fix him.” Tony pleads.

“I don’t trust you.” Nat replies, brow crinkling with distrust.

“I know.” And Tony can’t blame her. He’d made a bad impression the first time Bucky had shown up altered. Now here is the results of what he’d always feared but he knows better now about what he’s willing to lose by taking certain precautions.

Bucky is irreplaceable to Natasha and Steve. He must respect that if he’s going to keep not only you but the team in his life.

“But you have to.” Tony argues, holding his hands out for her, his tools held tight as he waits for her to move.

Natasha turns around to look at Bucky once more, her face contorted with indecision and grief and reluctantly moves aside.

Tony lunges for Bucky and works quickly on his arm while Natasha cuts away Bucky’s clothing to tend to his other various wounds.

~~~~~~~~~~

“He’s stable for now.” Bruce declares, wrapping up Bucky’s arm recess where before there’d been shredded metal.

“Will he wake?” Tony asks, trying to keep his voice down for Natasha’s sake.

She’s only just fallen asleep, sitting in a large cushioned chair with a high back. Her hand firmly wrapped around Bucky’s scuffed up right hand.

“What did you give her?” Bruce asks, ignoring Tony’s question for a moment as he also looks to Nat to see her sleeping so peacefully.

“Just one of Agatha’s herbs. She’s a witch with herbs.”

“Or just a witch.” Bruce says quietly, fixing Tony with a wary look.

“I’ve been thinking so too. But she’s devoted to keeping Y/N safe so she’s a good one, as far as I’m concerned.” Tony moves to the wall to pull the call. Somewhere in the castle, he’s sure a bell rings.

“She’s going to be upset when she wakes.” Bruce points out.

“She needs the rest. Thor, Clint, and Peter are out searching. Sam has gone back to Broklin in case they head that way.” Tony assures his friend. “We’ll find them.”

“Y/N is going to be upset that you’ve got Sharon helping Samuel.” Bruce teases, a small awkward smile playing on his lips.

“She’ll deal with it. Finding them is most important right now. Not jealousy.” Tony argues.

Bruce huffs a small laugh, turning to seal Bucky’s bandage before checking on the wounds that Nat had tended to just to be sure they were sealed well.

“You are aware that Sharon snuck into Steve’s room to try and seduce him, and your daughter caught them in bed together, right?” Bruce asks, turning a knowing look to his friend.

Tony blinks, hands clasped at his front before he begins to fix his shirt.

“I am now.” Tony admits. “I’m sure she didn’t let them get away with it. And they seem fine now.”

Mind racing with what might have happened after finding Steve and Sharon like that, he resolves to give Steve a scolding when he sees him.

When. He will find you both if it’s the last thing he does.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks, voice groggy from sleep.

You’re uncurling from his side, moving to his removed tunic to rifle along the front at his expensive baubles and medals.

“To get us some food and something less conspicuous to wear. We don’t know if we’re being pursued. We must lay low.”

“And going into the village to buy things isn’t the opposite of laying low?” Steve asks.

You shake your head. “I’ll only be half an hour and I know the people here. They won’t hurt me.”

Most of them…

“Let me go.” Steve begins to get up, but you frown when he groans.

“No.” You insist, moving to him with a handful of jewels and silver.

You push him back down onto the bed and fix the ratty blanket you’d used to use over him.

“Stop arguing with me.” You chastise him. “I’ll be faster. You’re still wounded.”

“I don’t like you going out there alone.” Steve argues.

“Steven, please. Don’t fight me on this. I will be as quick as I possibly can. I’ll be as invisible as I was before I left. You’ll see. No one will pay me any mind. I was an insignificant orphan. No one will care that I’m here.” You assure him.

“You’re Queen of Broklin.” Steve argues. “And you look like her now, whatever you may think. You don’t look like the girl that came to my castle nearly a year ago.”

“What do I look like then?” You wonder, stripping off your dress before pulling on an old ratty set that you’d had here in the house from before.

It’s thin and meant for summer. Does little to shield the cold but it’s better than your regal, however torn up it might be, gown.

“Even in that you look like an angel.” Steve says.

You can’t help it. You laugh.

“Don’t you think you’re a little biased?” You ask him.

He frowns at you.

“Steve, I’ll be fine.” You move back to him and he welcomes you despite the terrible clothes you’re wearing.

He pulls you in suddenly, no warning as he kisses you hard.

You gasp, hands tense on his shoulders as his lips crush yours painfully.

When he pulls away, he does so slowly, his kiss shifting into tenderness.

“What-?”

“Please be cautious. Don’t talk to anyone that you don’t have to. Turn my cloak inside out and take it. I will not have you and our child freezing.” He worries.

“Why weren’t you this annoying when we first got married?” You tease him and he shuts his eyes, head falling forward to rest against your chest.

You chuckle and stroke his dirty hair, smoothing it out despite the blood and grime still caked into it.

“Please be safe.” He begs, looking up at you again. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, Y/N.”

“You’d go on. Because you’re strong. And you have a whole Kingdom that depends on you.”

Steve sighs. “I don’t want to be rational. I’d gladly follow you into the end.”

“Then I guess I’d better not meet my end.” You decide.

Getting up, you move to his cloak and turn it inside out as he wished. It’s plain gray on the underside. Still a fine fabric but less ostentatious in its stitching. It makes it much warmer in this clothing and it smells like Steve still.

“Stay quiet.” You tell him, then pick up his shield and put it beside him. “I’ll be right back.”

You slip out into the early morning freeze. The wheat fields are barren and give you no cover as you trek across the cold semi-frozen mud. It sticks to your shoes, much too nice for the plain peasant dress you’re wearing but with the cloak they’re somewhat hidden.

You’re tired by the time you reach the edge of the village and take shelter in the smithy’s doorway. He’s already open, an older man who had tried his best to ignore your hunger plight often. Many of the wealthier villagers had made the very conscious decision to pretend you didn’t exist.

You can’t blame them. You were a child in need of care and many of them, though richer than you, still struggled to make ends meet. They had no way of caring for a whole other mouth to feed.

He’s working inside, too busy making his living to care that you’re resting on his doorstep.

It takes you fifteen minutes to walk across the village make your purchase with only a somewhat lingering look from the tailor who must be the only one to notice your absence in the village as you’d always been a bit of a pain to.

You had offered to mend clothing at a cheaper cost and so stole most of her mending business.

“Haven’t seen you around here.” She states, wrapping up your new dress and the clothing and shoes you’ve purchased for Steve.

“I’ve been travelling.” You say quickly. Offering no further explanation.

“You look different.” She says, pushing the parcel over the counter towards you.

Fucking Steve.

“Do I?” You take the package and throw a silver pin on the counter worth six times as much as she’s charging you for the clothes.

Her eyes go wide at the sight, but you don’t wait for her to say anything and instead leave as quickly as you entered.

You buy some food from the bake, just something to tide you both over until you can go hunt something up and pay with a small ruby.

You’re gone before he can respond to the payment.

With both errands out of the way, you make your way back towards your cottage, eager to be back by Steve’s side.

Your trek is quick across the barren fields, pace increasing the closer you get.

It’s just beyond this slope, beyond the windmill.

As you curve around it, smile stretching your lips, you gasp as a large stocky man blocks your way.

Your free hand drops to your stomach protectively as your eyes take in the only threat to you in this village.

“Well, hello, hello, hello. If it ain’t tha little mouse.” He says.

As you take in his pale skin, a messy array of vibrant red curls on his head, your mind provides you with several excruciating memories of his large beefy body pinning you against the tavern wall. His hands tearing away at your clothing. Ripping your skin as angry tears stained your cheeks.

Both times you’d been able to fight him off. You’d been lucky.

As he devours you with his eyes, you can see the wheels in his mind turning.

“You’ve been gone a long time, little mouse.” He grins. “I’ve missed you.”

#king!steve x reader #king!steve x you #steve x reader #medieval au #royal au #medieval fantasy au #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader fanfiction #steve rogers x you #avengers x reader #buckynat #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #pseudo princess #pseudo princess pt28

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marril96 · 3 years

Text

Out of the Woods

Chapter 1: Runaway

Characters: Rowena, Sam, Dean

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: An explosive argument leads to you running away and puts Rowena in danger.

A/N: Huge thanks to @hotdiggitydammit for helping me with the summary!

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

You and Rowena were screaming at each other, which wasn't nearly as common as people tended to think. You didn't care that you were in the middle of nowhere. You didn't care that Sam and Dean were looking at you, that they were focused on nothing but the two of you screaming your lungs out in each other's face like rabid beasts.

Let them watch.

After all, they were the ones who'd gotten you into this mess.

"I didn't wanna come here in the first place!" you yelled, wildly flailing your arms around to emphasize each word for there was nothing you could possibly say, could possibly do, to encompass just how much you didn't want to be here.

"Nobody held a gun to your bloody head!" Rowena argued.

Right. Because it was that easy. Because saying no was a walk in the fucking park.

"Was I supposed to let you come alone? With-with those two idiots—" you pointed at Sam and Dean, who both scowled, but you didn't care "—who've endangered your life more than once? One of whom is fated to kill you?"

"I don't need a nanny!" she snapped as she always did when you were protective. Because why acknowledge she wasn't as all-powerful as she thought when she could keep playing tough girl? "I've survived well enough on my own for over three centuries!"

"This is different!"

Back then she wasn't acquainted with hunters who'd managed to piss off God himself. She hadn't been fated to be killed by one of said hunters, who, for some reason you couldn't comprehend, happened to be her best friend. Hadn't suffered at the Devil's hand — more than once — and had the scars forever etched into her soul.

Back then she didn't have anyone who cared about her.

She didn't have you.

To your surprise, Rowena echoed it exactly. "Of course it's different! I didn't have you to nag at me every time I got a bloody paper cut!"

You stared. Swallowed a lump that had formed in your throat. Did she really just say that? Everything you'd done for her — all the love you'd showered her with, the tears you'd wiped away — and she had the audacity to trivialize it. To make you out to be a nagging wife.

"Wow." Because what else was there to say? She'd made her feelings clear, and quite loud. Louder than any fuck you she could have shouted. "You suck, you know that? You're a shitty girlfriend. I don't know why I even bother."

Two could play this game. You'd learned that from the very best.

Hurt flickered over Rowena's face; she instantly smoothed it out, covered it up with indifference you'd gotten to know well. "You're not exactly a walk in the park, either."

"I've done everything for you, and it's not enough. Nothing is ever enough with you."

Not the sleepless nights. Not the hugs and words of love. Not the promises that it was okay, that she was okay, that she was safe from the monster who'd hurt her — promises you'd kept to the very last word.

Not you.

You were never — would never be — enough.

"Maybe you're just doing a shoddy job," she said in that nonchalant tone she used to hurt people, to show them she didn't care.

It stung like a slap to the face. "Fuck you, Rowena!"

"Right back at you, dear."

You screamed. Stomped your foot like a child. Your nails bit into your skin as your fists tightened. Turning on your heel, you started walking in the opposite direction.

"Where in hell are you going?"

"I can't be around you right now." You looked to Sam and Dean, to their faces that told you they would rather be anywhere but here. You could relate. "I can't be around any of you."

If you were to stay for another moment, you would do something you would regret. Your magic was already boiling, fingertips sparking, eyes flashing purple. You needed to breathe. Needed to calm down. Needed to, for the first time in five long, long years, be away from your girlfriend.

"You can't just walk away!" Rowena said. "We aren't finished!"

A bitter chuckle escaped your mouth. "Why? Because that's your thing?" You meant for it to hurt, to make her heart ache as much as yours did. To pay back what you were owed for she was the last person you expected this kind of treatment from. "Don't worry, I'm not stealing. Just borrowing a page out of your book."

If she had a reaction to your words, you didn't see it. You just kept walking. One foot in front of the other, eyes straight ahead. You didn't look back until you were sure you were far enough away that the only thing to return your glance were trees.

Making sure you were alone — truly, blissfully alone — you wept. You sobbed and cried like an inconsolable child as your heart pulsed and pounded in your chest. A hammer beating against your ribcage, crushing it, tearing it apart.

You didn't want to be here. Didn't want to join the Winchesters on yet another case no different than the others before them — the ones they'd begged Rowena to help with as shamelessly as this one. The softie she'd become, she said yes, as she did every time they called. What Sam Winchester asked for, Sam Winchester got. Regardless of your objections.

You knew Rowena had changed. Understood her need to redeem herself for her past misdeeds, to make up for every life she'd taken and ruined. Helping the Winchesters gave her a sense of peace, of happiness. Of hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't irreparable, that the evil she'd inflicted could be negated with good.

The fact that she was putting herself in harm's way didn't seem to dissuade her.

So you went with her. If you couldn't talk her out of it, at the very least you could go with her to keep an eye on her, to make sure she was okay. Rowena welcomed your company, and had made it clear to the Winchesters the two of you were a package deal. Not that they minded. After all, two helpful witches were better than one.

Today was no different than any other day. A seemingly difficult case. Murdered women thrown out like trash, their naked bodies littered with bruises and welts, reminders of the brutality they'd succumbed to. No suspects. No leads. Nothing but a pentagram cut deep into each victim's chest.

A witch perpetrator, it was suspected. Or one that had been hunting witches — or women they'd suspected of being so — branding them loud and clear for the entire world to know their sin like a twisted scarlet letter.

Your bet was on the latter.

It only made you hope for the bastard to be found sooner.

At the same time, it made your nerves go off like fireworks. If there was an insane hunter out there, it wasn't safe for you and Rowena to work this case. What if one of you were to be taken? What if one of you were to be brutalized in the worst ways possible and thrown away like trash?

You both bore resurrection sachets, but still.

You'd already been through the aftermath of a similar ordeal with Rowena once. It would destroy you (and, despite how nonchalant she acted, demolish her) to go through it again.

Rowena, ever the contrarian, disagreed. Or rather, she didn't care. She wanted to help. Wanted to make the bastard who'd been doing this pay for ever putting his hands in a witch. You would be okay, she assured you. She wouldn't let any harm come your way. If he were to even look at you wrong, she would make sure the ordeal that waited for him in Hell would be Heaven compared to what she would put him through.

As if that was the point. As if that made your worries — for her, for her wellbeing — subside for even a sliver.

But, as always, Rowena was stubborn, and were you, and soon you were screaming in each other's face.

And now here you were, crying your eyes out in the middle of an unknown forest, your back against a tree, nothing but a sea of trees and overgrown weeds around you.

Gods. That woman would be the death of you. As impossible as she was, as much as her words hurt, you couldn't make yourself hate her. You never could; not back when she was a heartless bitch, when she cared about nothing but herself, and certainly not now, four years into the relationship you never thought would happen.

Rowena had changed. She truly had. But, gods, sometimes it was a struggle to handle her. She was difficult to love. Impossible, almost, but you managed it. Sometimes, like now, you wished you hadn't. Because hating her would be easier. It would make her words sting less. Would make her disappointment in you, her lack of appreciation for all you've done for her, hurt less.

Being in love was a bitch.

Being in love with Rowena was one of massive proportions.

That was what you got for falling in love with someone who used to brag about being unable to feel anything remotely close to affection.

That woman was long gone, but remnants of her still lived on. A perfect weapon Rowena happily utilized, aimed it straight at the heart for maximum damage.

If you weren't enough, who would be? What was it that she wanted you to do? You'd given her your all, and more, so much more. Had pushed yourself to your limits for her sake. Mistakes were made along the way, and learned from. You'd always strived to do better, be better; a better carer, a better girlfriend.

Clearly not the best. Lacking. Not enough. Never enough.

Knees trembling, you allowed yourself to slide to your knees. You buried your face in your hands, muffled the sobs that kept tearing from your throat. Willed them to silence.

You couldn't understand Rowena like Sam. Couldn't make her PTSD go away. Couldn't make her better, happier. There was nothing of value you could give her. A few soft words, kisses, and hugs could only do so much.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you were doing a shoddy job.

But still, you tried. You did your best. Gave your all; blood, sweat, and tears. You weren't perfect, nobody was, but if that was what Rowena had an issue with, well, it was her problem.

You could only give her so much.

Was it too much to ask for the smallest shred of gratitude in return?

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @hellbentredhead @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @mintymarshmellows @midnight-lestrange @osterhagen @impala-1979 @gracib16 @feelsandotps

#rowena #rowena macleod #spn #supernatural #spn family #rowena x reader #rowena macleod x reader #angeleva #fanfiction #my fics

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mcyt-transcribed · 3 years

Text

youtube

transcript of “where I've been”

TW for discussion of cancer and Covid-19

Here’s the Google Doc link or you can click on the read more.

Techno: Yo, Technoblade here with another upload, oh my God I can’t believe it. We’re back, we’re playing Bedwars, uh, I don’t know why I said that in the present tense because I actually recorded these Bedwars games a few days ago. I have- I’ve played like, almost no Bedwars since the win streak, which was like, I dunno, years ago - so, you know, forgive me if I’m a little rusty. These are literally just the first three games of Bedwars I played, recorded them, and then just threw them in this background footage because, you know, I like live commentaries a lot, but I feel like sometimes, when you have a topic to talk about, having to play a video game simultaneously can sorta- it can sorta detract from the commentary, you know?

But before that: a plushie commercial filmed on my iPhone.

We got the first one - it’s Technoblade. He’s in a flying pose. He’s flying to save some civilians or he’s falling flat on his face. Depends on who you ask. Alright. We got the- We got Technoblade. He’s sitting down. He’s- He’s seated. He’s seated. It’s incredibly exciting. Uh, we got- we got Technoblade but he’s- he’s a giant- he’s a gigantic pillow. It’s Technopillow. This is actually- This is actually really- This is really soft. You’re gonna have to take my word for it.

These plushies go on sale on September 3rd at 3 PM EST at youtooz.com. The last ones sold out in around eight hours, so be prepared. I mean, one of them was like, two minutes but ehhh, it’s not happening again.

So where has Technoblade been? I know I’ve been gone since like, June. I was actually being really productive in July, which I know you guys are gonna- You’re not gonna believe me when I say that because I made no content. But I was! I was, you gotta believe me, okay? I was getting so much work done IRL; I was like, filling out paperwork, making business moves, working on merchandise, buying new equipment to make new videos. ‘Cause I really wanted- I really wanted to increase the rate at which I was making videos, ‘cause I kinda spent- You know, I kinda spent like, all this time becoming a famous YouTube and then instantly like, stopped uploading. Which, I mean, to be fair, I guess that started more in like 2018. So, that’s more just a pattern now.

But I figured, you know, this whole thing where I go two- you know, one or two months without uploading- I don’t want that to be me, man. I wanna be uploading at least once per week. So I spent a lot of time preparing to do that. And the plan was that I would start doing that in August, but I took a- It didn’t- It’s, uh- It’s not going great, I’m not going to lie to you.

So in the last two days of July I noticed that my right arm was starting to hurt a decent amount and I thought- My best guess was that it was some kind of repetitive stress injury, ‘cause you know I’ve been playing video games since the age of like, five. It’s pretty much nonstop. I was gonna get carpal tunnel at some point but, uh, I took a few days to rest my arm and it really didn’t… really didn’t feel any better after that. And so after a few days of that, I looked at myself in the mirror and I noticed that my right shoulder was starting to swell like crazy and I was like, “Oh my God! I must’ve broken a bone, this is-” I mean, this- It looked- it looked crazy.

So, you know, the next day - August 2nd - I, uh, headed over to the doctor to see what was wrong and uh, they ran a couple of scans and then they came back and they told me that, uh, the reason my arm hurts is because I have cancer.

That really couldn’t have gone worse, I don’t think. I feel a bit silly talking about this with, uh, Minecraft in the background; it feels a bit out of place. But I’m a Minecraft YouTuber - I don’t- I don’t do a face cam. Which is I guess how most people would talk about serious things, with a face cam. I also probably, uh- *chuckles* Also probably a bit weird to plug my merchandise in the- in the same video, like, “Hey, guys, I have a- I have a terrible disease, also buy my plushies, bro.” But uh- *laughs* Listen: I’ve been waiting so many months to sell those plushies, bro. And it keeps getting delayed and now cancer thinks it can stop me. No no no no no. I’m trying to make some bank, bro. I wanna get paid, also they look fantastic, I mean just look at them, they look incredible. Alright?

I mean, I guess it would be ideal to like, split up the announcements, but I’m going back into chemotherapy next week; I don’t got time for this, man. We gotta go!

To be fair, I could make this a lot weirder; I could have like, the thumbnail be a giant red arrow pointing to my tumor with the caption “Might die! Not clickbait!” *laughs* Yeah, just the ultimate- the ultimate YouTuber, bro. We’re clickbaiting the whole process.

So after the scans come in, I get transferred to another hospital which has an oncology award, so it’s a lot more specialized towards what I need. And I’m sorta like sitting there in the bed for a couple of days like, “Hello. Could I please get some healthcare? Could I- Could I just get a- Could I just get a crumb of healthcare? Please! Like, I *stutters* I wanna see people sprinting, you know? I feel like I want to see some urgency, you know? If you guys gotta- *stammers* You know, there’s like, this tumor on my arm - if you guys could just- if you guys could just get rid of it. Just get rid of it right now! Could we just go? If you gotta cut off my arm, cut off my arm, bro - do what you gotta do. I won’t complain, man, I’ve won enough Minecraft tournaments. I’ll just play Minecraft with my feet from here on out, bro. I’ll still be B tier at least, okay? It’s fine. Do what you gotta do.”

But then the doctors are telling me, “Oh, well, we can’t- we can’t do it immediately. We gotta- We gotta find out what it is, we gotta run some tests, do a biopsy.” I’m like, “Okay, do the biopsy.” Like, “Oh, well first we gotta do some scans.” I’m like, “Alright, dude, the scans.” And so it took a couple of days and then they did a biopsy, uh, three days later. And then I was like, “Alright. Let’s go!” And they were like, “Oh, well, the biopsy is gonna take like, a week or more to get back.” And I’m just sitting here like, “Bruh, please. Please, just treat me.”

I mean, it makes sense. It makes a lot of sense and I’m sure they know what they’re doing, but I’m just sitting there in the hospital like, “Please. Please, healthcare.” So they get the biopsy and they send me home and they’re saying like, I’ll come back in like a week or so when they have a treatment plan prepared, and so I- It was a very fun week at home ‘cause I was sitting there still not getting treated and I was just like, looking at my tumor like, “Alright, Mr. Tumor. You know, you need me to survive so it’s in your best interest to just- to just chill out for a little bit, you know? We don’t wanna go too crazy.”

And faintly- Faintly if you strain your ears, underneath my skin you can hear:

[Dream’s speedrun music plays for a few seconds]

Techno: Yeah, it was a really fun week. But I did finally get started on chemotherapy, which is a wonderful process. Let me explain chemotherapy. So basically uh, you know how society has progressed for thousands of years of technological and medical innovation? So basically, one of the top three ways we have to fight cancer is uh, for you to go to the hospital and then they uh, plug you into a machine and then they inject poison directly into your veins for several days. That’s uh, that’s one of the best ways we’ve got of going about this and the poison- it’s supposed to kill the cancer - it uh, also kills things like, you know, blood. But ehhh, does anybody really need blood? I feel like it’s pretty optional, you know? Uh- *small laugh* Blood for the Blood God as it were, alright? Uh, I’ll take what I can get.

I, uh, you know, I used to have a channel meme- ‘cause back in the day- you know how my motivation always goes up and down in, like, cycles? I used to have a meme where whenever I’d get super motivated I’d, ya know, I’d start uploading, like crazy. I’d also do things like get a haircut. And, so, I joked that, uh, the less hair I had, the more I’d upload. ‘Cause that’s- the hair was holding me back. And so, if that’s still true, I gotta say, chemotherapy, that’s gotta be daily uploads or something, bro. *laughs* It’s gonna be- Chemotherapy Arc is gonna be fantastic for content.

Well, ya know, after I got diagnosed, I, uh, I’ve been making a lot of phone calls- ya know, informing all of my distant family members about the situation- and, I gotta say, of all the phone calls I’ve made, nobody took the news worse than my health insurance provider. They’ve been inconsolable for weeks. They were like, “You got what!? No!”

I mean, I had no idea they cared so much. They’ve just- oh my God. I- I think they’re the real victims of this. I mean, could you imagine? Could you imagine? Like, look at me! I was a healthy twenty-two year old, I, like, barely went to the doctor, even for, like, regular appointments. I- I guess I went to the dentist, that’s the one thing I did. I was the freest paycheck they’ve ever seen in their lives. They could’ve been milking money off of me for decades. And then, bam, cancer, bro. *laughs* Oh, those poor guys.

Uh, the one- the one favor I- I do wanna ask- If you guys could all do one small favor for Technoblade- uh, you know that coronavirus thing you been hearing in the news for the last couple of years? Uh, I want you guys to get rid of it. Just, uh, I want it gone. Just a couple days should be sufficient for you guys to do that.

No, but, seriously. I’m kind of, uh, immunocompromised right now, which means, uh, if a bacteria touches me or, like, a virus touches me, I will explode. So, yeah, uh, I wanna- get the vaccine, is what I’m saying.

I’m gonna get cancelled by the anti-vaxxers for saying it, but it’s such a good vaccine, bro. Pfizer got full FDA approval, this week, for people aged sixteen and up. I think you- you can also get it if you’re eleven to fifteen if you’ve got emergency approval or whatever. Uh, I mean, if you have any concerns, don’t listen to a Minecraft YouTuber, but, please, at least talk to a doctor. Because it’s- it’s so good bro. It’s so good.

The hospitals are currently getting flooded by unvaccinated people. I’m gonna go ahead and speak on behalf of all cancer patients when I say that it is incredibly annoying when the- when the hospitals are getting overworked by people dying of preventable diseases. I’m just saying- we got dibs on those hospital beds. So, ya know, you- you probably don’t- you don’t even want them really. You don’t even want to need them. So, I think the vaccine… what is it? It, like, reduces the chances of you needing hospitalization from Covid by, like, ninety-six percent? I mean, it’s so effective, bro! Come on! I mean, you might still get, like… I mean, you could still catch coronavirus, but, like, the symptoms are gonna be so much milder, bro, I’m just saying. Think about it. Think about it. Talk to a doctor.

I remember when I first went in for chemotherapy, A: I was thrilled, ‘cause, like, yo! Healthcare! Inject it into my veins, bro! Let’s go! But, also, like, the first couple of days were actually pretty chill. I was like, ‘Dang! This is easy, bro!’. And then it kicked in. And then it kicked in. My energy levels were zero; they were absolutely nothing. It’s hard to describe how tired I was, but I think my one example is- so they let me go back home. And after several days of resting, I had a virtual appointment with a doctor. And, so, they were, like, ‘Alright’. And I was just sitting there, like, ‘Wait a second. You guys want me to sit upright in a chair for an hour? What is this, the Olympics, bro? I’m going back to bed! What? What?’ *laughs* ‘Wha? Let’s calm down here. Sitting in a chair? Am I Superman? Like, come one, bro.’

As you can probably tell, I’m feeling a lot better right now. Which is, uh, I think that’s part of the process, is, uh, you get a little bit of recovery time to, uh, ya know, eat a lot of really good food- get the weight back- and get ready for the next round.

And, uh, before we go back for the next round, I’m gonna be playing a lot of video games, uh, making some content, seeing if I can get some more videos prepared, because, uh- I know people are gonna be like, ‘No! Technoblade! You don’t need to make videos for us! Please rest!’

Nah, this isn’t about you, bro. This is about me. I enjoy this, man. This is, like, one of the safest and most fun things I could be doing right now, bro, I’m gonna do it. I don’t know how much content I could make, ‘cause I’m kinda slow, but we’ll see. We’ll see.

I already have a video prepared for next week, uh, September third. You guys are gonna love it. It’s, uh, it was actually- it’s kind of, kind of an old video. It was, uh, from a few months ago, but it’s very good. So, yeah! You guys have that to look forward to.

And, for the record, I know I’ve been complaining a lot in this video, but I just wanna clarify that the doctors I have are, like, insanely good, bro. I’m gonna be getting some of the finest healthcare in the world, so don’t worry about me too much.

I think the treatment has already started to show some results. I- I mean, it’s been so short of a time, so the results aren’t gonna be insane or anything, but, at the very least, the speedrun music has stopped playing.

So, yeah, that’s where I’ve been and that’s what I’m gonna be doing for the foreseeable future. Wish me luck, and, uh, wear a mask, I guess. Ya know, standard coronavirus procedures. All that coronavirus stuff and like, getting vaccinated - that goes double for Californians, okay? But it helps everywhere.

Uh, that’s all I’ve got for today. See you guys next time!

#transcribed #technoblade #video #bedwars #mod parker #mod garlic #cancer tw #medical tw #needles tw #(he talks about getting vaccinated)

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