#i rarely used to have nightmares. these last two weeks ive had more nightmares than i did all last year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

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here lads have an angsty supercorp soulmate story

It starts exactly 24 hours after Kara’s departure.

It’s subtle at first. It actually reminds Lena of the first few days after they met.

The slow but steady build-up of pain manifesting itself into little things; shaky hands, dizzy spells, chest pains. The pills help, of course. She’s already ingested 5 pills in the span of 3 hours and she’s contemplating taking more. Just to keep the pain—threatening to overtake her—at bay. But what good would she be if Alex finds her passed out on the floor? Veins chock-full of narcotics?

So, she wills her hands to stop shaking and pushes on. She sends a text to Jess to send a shipment of pills to her home address; tells her to be discreet.

She can do it. She’s done it before. She can fucking do it again. And she will bring Kara home.

Because every moment that passes with them apart, means a step closer to Lena’s death.

You might think she’s exaggerating, but really she isn’t. See, Kara’s her soul mate, not just in the figure of speech wax-poetic sense but literally Kara’s her soul mate.

But her being a Luthor of course, soul mates wouldn’t come easy. None of it had ever been easy. Why would this one be an exception? It wasn’t unheard of, no, there were a few rare cases of it being recorded. Of course, Lena would be one of those people. Why wouldn’t the universe add shitty soul mate luck into the long list of misfortunes in Lena’s life? What’s one more curse, right?

See, Kara’s her soul mate but...Lena isn’t Kara’s.

“You look like shit, Luthor. You’re allowed to take a break you know?”

It’s Alex who breaks her out of her reverie. She prays to God that Alex doesn't notice her shaking hands. She’s well aware she looks like shit. She feels like shit, she doesn’t need Alex of all people to point that one out. But now, Lena notices that the whole place is empty, she didn’t even notice J’onn slip out. She didn’t even notice Alex coming in too, really.

Brainy had long passed-out in one of the beds in the MedBay in the 2nd level of The Tower, Nia taking up the opposite bed. There was a brief moment when she walked in that made her feel tempted to occupy the third bed and take a break. But then, her chest tightened and a flare of pain lit up her whole insides, it was reason enough to keep her feet moving and back unto the computers trying to pinpoint Kara’s location.

“I know,” she replies, “But it’s really not necessary, Alex. I’ll rest after.”

She doesn’t need rest, what she needs is Kara to be here.

She refuses to look at Alex, fingers flying across the screen. Alex shifts closer to her, lays a hand on her right arm prompting her to stop. Her eyes land on Alex's hand and continue up to Alex’s eyes.

“We’ll find her, Lena. But you have to rest. I’m serious, Luthor. Come on,” Alex persists, wrapping her hand more firmly and tugging at Lena to follow her.

She doesn’t say that rest will do her more harm than good. She doesn’t say that if she closes her eyes all she would see is Kara’s body floating all alone in space and the pain would start anew.

First, her chest and then travelling up the rest of her body until all there is is pain.

She doesn’t say that she needs to work in order to distract her from the pain.

Instead, she holds her tongue, lets Alex bring her to the 2nd level and tries to have the most fitful sleep of her life.

***

It gets worse on the 5th day of the second week. It really isn’t a surprise considering this is the longest she’s had to go without Kara around.

She’s taken mega-doses of painkillers in anticipation for today. Last night was a nightmare, she had to bite down on a hand towel as waves of pain assaulted her, again and again and again.

When morning came, it slowly subsided. Once feeling had returned to her legs she ran into the kitchen and swallowed 3 pills immediately.

It doesn’t matter if she’s taken 3 or 4 or a whole bottle today, because it will just get worse and worse the longer Kara isn’t by her side.

And so, she drags herself into The Tower again, because she needs to finally find a way to bring her back.

She tries to ignore the tightening of her chest even though she’s really having a hard time breathing now. Not to mention the pain behind her eyes that is bit by bit making it difficult for her to coordinate with Brainy’s computations.

She’s taken to keeping a bottle of pills on her person now. Opting to take them dry as if they were mint candies to keep her tongue moving while programming lines of codes.

She thinks she’s still being subtle.

Well, she is.

Until she isn’t.

She crumples to the floor in front of everyone and a guttural scream of pain breaks free from her lips.

***

When she wakes it’s to Alex sitting by her bedside.

She lets out a groan in response to the sore feeling of her entire body. It’s like the time they were forced to do team building exercises all day in Mt. Helena and Lena nearly passed out.

Alex hands her a bottle of water. She sips greedily before handing it back and wiping her mouth.

“Hey? How you feeling?”

“Like I wanna die.”

Alex sighs and Lena intentionally avoids her eyes.

“It’s Kara isn’t it?” Alex says and Lena doesn’t bother with lying anymore.

“It is.”

“How you survived almost two weeks away from her, I wouldn’t know. Two days away from Kelly—” Alex breaks off, inhales deeply and then sighs again, “That’s already torture for me.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” She retorts flatly, hands fiddling with the rough edges of the blanket. Alex looks like she wants to say something about that but Lena beats her there.

“How?” She asks, gesturing to the IV drip. How am I not feeling pain right now? How am I still breathing? How am I still alive?

“The DEO created a special fluid for agents,” Alex reveals, “They distribute it to agents on field assignments. That way, them and their partners don’t die from pain. Good thing, J’onn had a stash hidden here, well, we always thought it would be for me and Kelly. Never expected you, Luthor.”

Lena takes that in for a moment. So, the DEO had a special formula of Dextrose to stave off the pain of soulmate separation and apparently she’s using up all the remaining bags of it.

And it’s not even supposed to be for her.

“Don’t worry about it. Brainy can replicate the formula.”

Worry must’ve shown on her face. So, she works on schooling her features again, she knows that Alex is itching to ask her questions but is trying to be polite.

There’s really no use hiding anything now though.

“K-Kara’s my soulmate,” she finally says out loud, and she’s always thought that it’s supposed to feel cathartic and freeing but instead it just feels heavy.

“But I’m not hers,” she quickly finishes, better to rip the band-aid off. She briefly looks at Alex, whose face doesn’t give her anything; mouth a tight line and eyes shining with curiosity.

She doesn’t know if Alex had ever had a conversation with Kara about soul mates before. Had they talked about it? Had Kara ever mentioned Lena acting too clingy whenever they don’t see each other for a short period of time? Had Kara ever told Alex if she would want a soul mate of her own?

But the look and silence from Alex’s side makes Lena refrain from asking.

Instead, she starts to tell her how it had hit her the instant Kara walked in her office. How there was a zing! and her brain had immediately screamed HER. That��s the one. She’s the one.

How when they met eyes and Kara had told her her name it felt like Lena’s soul finally found her home.

“I asked for her name and I kind of thought she’d wait for me to get out of the office,” Lena trails off and Alex takes it for what it is.

Their first meeting was all sparks for Lena but then, the conversation kept going and going and Clark had tried interrogating her and Kara didn’t do anything.

Didn’t approach her afterwards, didn’t show any reaction that might’ve given Lena a clue that she felt the way Lena did.

A conclusion was easily reached.

Kara was hers but she wasn’t Kara’s.

After the initial shock settled in, Lena set to work. Because that was what she did best. Work out a solution to everything and anything that poses a problem.

How many people have dreamed about meeting their soul mate? How many years had Lena sat there hoping that tomorrow maybe, maybe she’ll finally meet them? She never expected this, never expected her soul to find a home that isn’t hers.

Staying away from Kara was a non-starter, it’s only been a day since they parted but Lena can already feel the beginnings of pain. Slow but sharp shots of throbbing from behind her eyes then came the shaky hands then the dizziness and then—

They became friends and Lena made sure Kara didn’t know anything about her growing need to be close to her; didn't let Kara know about the fact that the universe made Lena its most epic punchline yet.

She agreed to scheduled game nights and movie nights and lunch dates. She never knew the pain of soulmate separation during those early days. Kara was always around; bringing her a salad, covering an L-Corp gala, crashing on Lena’s couch.

“It was easy, you know? Kara was always there. What are friends for?” Lena mimics Kara and then repeats somberly, “It was easy, Alex.”

Or at least, Lena kept telling herself it was easy. She had it easy. She didn’t have to think about painkiller pills or cutting her business trips short—because the pain becomes unbearable too soon—like so many of her board members do.

She had it easy with Kara, she can just call and she’ll be there.

Until, Kara started going MIA. And for three days pain overtook her entire life. The pain made her unable to think clearly, the pills kicking in at the last minute.

“You haven't been around. Supergirl's been there for me. Person who judges me on the very premise of my last name, but my best friend hasn't,” she accuses because Goddamnit Kara has no idea what kind of shit Lena had to endure with her going away with no warning.

Logically, Lena knows it’s partly her fault.

She knows that if she only just told Kara that she needs her to live, Kara would stay. But she doesn’t want anything to change.

Of course, Kara would stay, it was the kind of thing a person like her would do.

Kara would take care of her, whatever Lena needed she would give.

But Lena didn’t want things that way.

She wants Kara to want her the same way she wants her.

But no, Lena’s not going to tell her that. She is never going to know. She will find an alternative. So, she injects as much venom as she can into that accusation, “B-but maybe it’s better if I leave.”

She makes Kara leave.

She just got her cure back and immediately Lena had pushed her away. The moment Kara stepped out of the door, a dull throb already kicked in her chest; as if telling Lena she was making a big mistake.

She regretted that night so much, Jess had to drag her drunken body out of her office.

Then it became normal again and Lena went back to not worrying about body pains again.

Because a different kind of pain is trying to make itself known.

A gaping hole in her heart that is entirely unrelated to the biological consequences of being separated from your soul mate.

She was falling in love.

She was falling in love and she wasn’t prepared for how it would hurt to have Kara not love her back. She can endure the physical pain, there are pills for that.

But there wasn’t any type of medication to see your other half everyday and not have them see you as theirs.

When Lex told her Kara’s secret. Something broke inside of her. Which was saying something, considering she was getting her heart broken every single day that Kara wouldn’t look her way.

But to know how stupid she’s been? To realize that the flutter of her heart whenever Supergirl was near was her brain telling her it was Kara?

There was no word for that.

“I think, I kept rejecting the idea of Supergirl being Kara you know?” Lena huffs out, laughs drily, “Imagine how fucking painful it would be, Alex, if Supergirl was my soul mate. This person who didn’t trust me wholly, who lies behind my back, imagine if she was my soul mate? It would have felt humiliating. My body knew better, though,” she admitted sadly.

“When Lex told me, all the little painful outbursts every time Supergirl flew away? It made sense. Everything made sense, but at the same time? Everything hurt too.”

She tried hurting her back. Created Hope. Experimented with Q-waves. Foolishly used Myriad. Teamed up with Lex.

But even through all of those? The separation pain never knocked her out.

Even when they were fighting, Kara was still always around. Even when the world—the fucking multiverse got reset. The pain wasn’t enough to knock her out. Not like today.

Because Kara was always lingering around convincing her not to join Lex, crossing paths in CatCo, flying into her home even if it was to call her a villain.

All of those interactions were still sustenance for Lena.

But this? This separation? This knowledge that Kara was somewhere out there, unreachable. That she could be lightyears away in space and it has been two weeks since Lena had last saw her, it has her every molecule shouting to go find Kara.

“It’s never been like this before,” Lena confesses, “I thought I could do it without-”

“Help?” Alex supplies and Lena finally turns to her and she feels a hand squeeze her.

“Yeah.” She mutters back softly.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Luthor. You’re part of the team now whether you like it or not. We are going to help you, we’re going to find a temporary solution for that pain and then we’ll get back to work and we’ll find Kara.”

#im thinking if i'll continue this after the 2nd ep but hmm we'll see #anyways hope u liked that little blurb #the reckless writer writes #a supercorp ficlet of sorts #supercorp fic #soul mate au #supercorp #rcklss writes

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

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Hello. I am very interested with WinterIron. Enemies to Lovers, abo with omega Tony, accidental bonding, mutual pining, a lot and a loooootttttt of kissing and touching (with "I do it because of bond" excuses).

Please feel free to cross anything you feel uncomfortable with.

Hi there! I wasn't able to get everything in there, but hopefully there's enough? I loved this prompt so much, it was a fun verse to write in 💙

CW for omegas having few rights in this verse and for creepy Aldrich Killian

As always, everything I write can also be found on ao3

mate bond: [meyt bond] noun

1. A mental and physical connection that ties two people together following a mating bite

2. A pair bond between spouses

[An excerpt from The Other Half of My Soul: An Exploration into Unconventional Bonding Methods by Anderson-Lopez et al, 1972]

“While rare, it is important to note the existence of mate bonds in individuals who have not exchanged bites. These instances have notably occurred during times of high stress for one or both individuals, and are sparked by an inciting incident of some kind, usually a traumatic event. While these types of mate bonds, dubbed soulmate bonds by the media, frequently occur between individuals who are highly compatible, it is not necessary. Curiously, however, it does seem necessary that the individuals are scent matched for a soulmate bond, even though compatible second genders are not a requirement.”

Bucky maintained that it was an accident.

Tony had been meant for Steve, after all. That was the arrangement Howard Stark had decided on with Fury. Bucky had only come along as moral support for the first meeting between Steve and Tony. He wasn’t even supposed to meet Tony first, but the crowded ballroom had been too much for him, so he’d ducked out into the hallway, only to come across two alphas menacing an omega. He supposed that some of Steve’s fiery nature must have rubbed off on him, as he normally would have never taken on two alphas by himself, not when he was down an arm. But he’d taken one look at that omega, pretty brown eyes wide with distress, and leapt into action. It hadn’t been until both alphas had been sent off running with their tails between their legs that he’d realized the omega he’d rescued was Tony Stark, Steve’s arranged mate.

Unfortunately (fortunately? No, definitely unfortunately), the arranged match would never come to fruition as Bucky and Tony had looked at each other and immediately bonded without a shared word or bite between them.

Howard was furious, Fury less so—Bucky was still a SHIELD agent, even if he wasn’t the great Captain America, so the planned union between SHIELD and SI would still happen—but both Bucky and Tony insisted that it hadn’t been done on purpose. And, as neither had a mating bite but could still feel the other at the back of their mind, it was hard to disprove the existence of what had once been called a soulmate bond, though was now called the rather unglamorous name of Mate Bond Subtype C, which Bucky thought sounded like an illness.

The media thought it was the most romantic thing they’d ever heard. Steve, who was slowly courting another alpha from SHIELD, thought it was a relief. Bucky, who didn’t want an omega while he was still recovering from the surgery on his arm, thought it was a nightmare at first.

He didn’t know what Tony thought.

They might have shared a bond between them, but Tony had quickly figured out how to shield his feelings. It had taken Bucky a little bit more practice but he too had worked out how to keep his thoughts and feelings private, which was good, because he doubted Tony would like to know what he was thinking.

They’d been bonded for three months and, while Bucky had moved into Tony’s penthouse apartment, they didn’t share a room, let alone a bed. He still took long missions that took him away for weeks at a time. Tony spent more time at SI’s research labs than he did at home. Bucky hadn’t shared Tony’s heat, nor had Tony shared Bucky’s rut, though neither of them had invited anyone else into their beds. And other than their planned public outings where they had to touch to put on the façade of a happily bonded couple, they didn’t hold hands or kiss or lean into each other, giggling.

The problem was—Bucky wanted all of that. He wanted to sleep curled around Tony. He wanted the two of them to be home long enough to share more than one dinner together at a time. He desperately wanted to share cycles, but even more badly than that, he wanted to touch Tony as often as the omega could stand it. Because the problem was also this—sometime in the course of three months, he’d fallen in love.

Tony slid his hand into Bucky’s as they stood in the elevator. “It’s just a quick walk around the ballroom, say hi to a couple investors, and then we can leave,” he said reassuringly, giving Bucky a quick smile. “I know how much you hate these shindigs.”

This was true, Bucky did hate them, but he knew that Tony hated them just as much, though he hid it much better than Bucky did. “Don’t worry,” he replied, squeezing Tony’s hand quickly. “I’ll stick to you like glue.”

“Well, maybe not like glue. Like Velcro, maybe. Howard’s got a couple investors that I know he wants me to meet and that I know you’ll hate so you’re more than welcome to go off and find people more to your liking then. I heard Steve’s coming.”

Bucky had to fight to hide a frown. He knew Tony didn’t mean any harm by the comment, but he hated how Tony thought he wouldn’t want to be by his side even when meeting people he didn’t like. So what if he didn’t like them? He’d still prefer to be giving Tony silent support instead of wandering off and leaving him alone for that long.

Before he can respond, the elevator came to a smooth stop, the doors opening on a soft ding to reveal the glittering ballroom Maria Stark had chosen to host the Annual Stark Foundation’s Shareholders’ Ball, meant to honor those who had given so generously to charity over the last year. The room was decorated in delicate ice-like structures, calling to mind the snow blanketing the city outside, though it wasn’t nearly as cold inside. Golden chandeliers reflected off the dark windows, giving the impression of a never-ending stretch of light. It was all so very glitzy and glamorous. Bucky hated it. It was an obscene display of wealth, meant solely to remind everyone that the Starks were richer than anyone else in the room.

“One hour, Bucky Bear,” Tony murmured like he could hear Bucky’s thoughts. “And then we can go get burgers.”

He dropped Bucky’s hand in favor of sliding his own into the crook of Bucky’s elbow, gently steering him towards the first group of investors. Like every other rich person he’d met since bonding with Tony, they were simultaneously smug of their own “generosity” (mere pennies compared to their bank accounts) and jealous, both of Tony’s wealth and Bucky’s luck in landing a Stark (not his words). The smugness was blatant, the jealousy only slightly hidden in the way their eyes lingered as Bucky took the opportunity to brush his lips across Tony’s cheek, quietly telling him he was going to go get them drinks.

“I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me,” he promised, understanding the minute tightness at the corners of Tony’s eyes.

Tony smiled and nodded, attention already turning back to the investors—or, more likely, to his latest project, however much it might have looked like he was paying attention to Hugh Worthington IV. Bucky slipped through the crowd to the bar. Fortunately, it wasn’t crowded yet and he was able to order a whiskey for himself and a scotch for Tony, who always refused to drink the fruity drinks he actually preferred at these parties, almost immediately. As he waited, he turned back to the crowd, idly scanning it. Steve wasn’t there yet, if it was indeed true that Fury had managed to stuff him into a suit and send him off to schmooze. His eyes sought out Tony, who was laughing as he excused himself from the group Bucky had left him with, moving on to another small throng of people.

He smiled despite himself. Tony was lovely like this, despite his discomfort. Bucky got to see him laugh so rarely at home that he cherished every moment he got to see it while they were out in public.

“Sir, your drinks,” the bartender prompted. He thanked them absently and left a tip on the bar before making his way back across the ballroom to Tony’s side.

Tony wasn’t laughing now. In fact, if his pursed lips were anything to go off of, he was pretty furious, and Bucky wondered what had upset him between him leaving the bar and him returning to Tony’s side.

“Doll,” he said, letting Tony know he was there. Tony turned and took his drink, thanking him with a quick kiss that Bucky desperately wanted to turn into a longer, sweeter one.

“Honey, Senator Stern here was just telling me about an omega’s rights bill he filibustered so it wouldn’t pass,” Tony said, irritation bleeding into his tone.

“Now isn’t that interesting,” Bucky drawled, irritated himself. The bill in question was a law that he knew Tony had backed, as it would have put a stop to the arranged bondings the wealthy were so fond of. They’d both known it would be a longshot to pass, but they’d remained hopeful. “That’s the one that Stevie supported isn’t it?”

“It is,” Tony agreed. “My alpha here—” He patted Bucky’s chest. “—is close friends with Captain Rogers. They grew up together, you know. Steve spends nearly every Saturday evening with us. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear about this bill failing to pass. Isn’t he supposed to be putting in an appearance at the Senate hearing next week? It would be such a shame if he couldn’t make it.”

Tony’s statement was only partially true. Bucky mostly saw Steve at SHIELD, as Steve, despite being always welcome at their apartment, didn’t want to be reminded of how close he’d come to an arranged bonding of his own. But Steve, who had been an omega before receiving the serum, had always been an outspoken supporter of omega’s rights, and now that he was an alpha, and Captain America to boot, he used every bit of that privilege to push as much pro-omega legislature through Congress as he could. He was a thorn in conservative senators’ sides, like Stern, and it was a minor miracle that they’d gotten him to appear in front of Congress to talk positively about a Republican bill supporting an expansion of benefits for veterans, when he normally disagreed with anything Republican just on principle. Steve’s support would go a long way toward getting that bill passed.

Tony’s veiled threat was effective. Stern, one of the authors of the bill, blanched, making Bucky smile. He loved watching Tony do his thing. There was really nothing better than Tony putting bullies like Stern back in their place.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Stern stammered out before hurrying away.

As soon as he was gone, Tony drooped, leaning back against Bucky. It was nice, being able to lend his support to his omega, but Tony was standing up straight again after only a moment, the façade falling back over him.

“I really hate that guy,” Tony said softly. He looked up at Bucky. “Sorry about using your friendship with Steve like that. I was just so angry. Saw red for a second there.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said. Impulsively, he reached out to clasp Tony’s shoulder, running his thumb soothingly over the soft skin just above his shirt collar. “You guys got a bad lot in life. You do what you gotta do to make it right.”

Tony hummed. “I really wanted that bill to pass. It wasn’t right, what Howard and Fury wanted me to do. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”

“Sorry,” Bucky offered up. It was a lame apology, but he didn’t know what else he could say to make it better. He knew very well that if he and Tony hadn’t bonded that night, Steve would be Tony’s alpha.

To his surprise, Tony smiled and nudged his shoulder, teasing, “I don’t know, you’re not so bad.”

Bucky sputtered, nearly choking on his whiskey.

“Oh, look, Steve’s just arrived,” Tony said airily, like he hadn’t noticed the effect his words were having on Bucky. “Let’s go say hi.”

Talking to Steve at these events was always awkward. Tony and Steve were both aware that neither of them wanted anything to do with each other as mates, which made having to see each other a study in unspoken tension. He didn’t think it was that either of them had a problem with the other, and he suspected that they could even manage to be friends eventually, but it was that knowledge that they’d nearly been forced to mate that made things so tense between them. Still, he appreciated that Tony was willing to put up with it so that Bucky could see his best friend. It was the sort of small kindness that Tony unthinkingly did that had made Bucky fall in love with him so easily.

Tonight was no different. Tony and Steve exchanged no more than a few awkward words before Tony excused himself to go meet with Emma Frost. He didn’t bother kissing Bucky this time, as Steve was one of the few people they didn’t have to pretend with and it didn’t seem like anyone was watching them at the moment. It would have been different if they’d met up a few months ago. There’d been more than a few people who’d somehow got it into their heads that Steve and Tony’s proposed bond was a love match instead of arranged, and they’d all watched eagerly to see how Steve, Tony, and Bucky interacted in those days following Bucky and Tony’s bonding, clearly wondering if Steve was going to pick a fight. They’d been sorely disappointed, of course; Steve and Bucky didn’t fight over anything, let alone an omega that Steve hadn’t wanted.

“So Fury roped you into the dog and pony show, huh,” Bucky asked, eyeing the stiff collar of Steve’s shirt. He’d be willing to bet that it was brand new. Steve was much more at home in a pair of khakis and a flannel shirt than he was in a tuxedo.

“Senator Brandt actually,” Steve said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “He thinks it’s good for me to make appearances and drum up support for SHIELD.”

“Sucks.” There was a niggling worry growing at the back of his mind, unrelated to Steve’s complaints about the brass, but Bucky didn’t know what it was. He glanced around the room, but was unable to spot anything amiss. He tried to put it out of his mind by asking, “How’s working with the Commandos?” He couldn’t entirely keep the bitterness out of his voice. Bucky had been moved out of the Commandos unit a few weeks before meeting Tony, and it wasn’t that he didn’t like being on Strike Team Delta, but he was still irritated that he hadn’t had a choice in the matter.

“Not the same without you,” Steve said, grimacing at him like he knew what was going through Bucky’s mind.

They continued talking about SHIELD as they slowly circulated the room and all the while, that worry was growing stronger, slowly morphing into fear, but it wasn’t until he happened to catch a glimpse of Tony standing in the corner and looking tense and unhappy that he realized they weren’t his feelings. They were Tony’s. Tony was worried and scared and had brought down his shields so that Bucky could feel his emotions and Bucky was standing on the other side of the room like an idiot.

“Excuse me,” he said brusquely, cutting Steve off. “Tony’s in trouble.”

He headed straight for Tony, pushing through the crowd without sparing a thought to anyone he might be offending as he shoved them aside. For once, it was Steve who was trailing after him, offering apologies to everyone who looked offended.

There was a look of naked relief in Tony’s eyes as Bucky marched up behind the alpha Tony was talking to. It was a look he’d never seen on Tony’s face before, at least not directed at him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that his omega was happy to have him there or disliked that Tony had to be relieved at all.

“Something wrong, doll?” he asked, hand clamping down on the alpha’s shoulder.

“Bucky,” Tony breathed. He sagged back against the wall. “This is Aldrich Killian. He’d like to propose—” Tony’s mouth twisted unhappily. “He’d like to propose an omega trade. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he insisted on talking to you.”

Anger flared in Bucky’s chest, hot and furious. Omega trades weren’t common anymore, used mostly in backroom deals to secure a transaction. You treat my omega right and I’ll treat your omega right, and maybe we can have a deal. He knew the rich, traditional alphas Tony had grown up with still occasionally used them, but he hated them. He’d always hated them. The very concept treated omegas like property, like hostages, and the thought of seeing Tony—his Tony—under someone else had his vision shading red.

“Is that so?” he hissed.

Killian, the idiot, didn’t seem to notice Bucky’s growing anger. “Maya’s a great—” he began to say.

Bucky cut him off with a hand around his throat, slamming him into the wall.

“Bucky—” Steve started, a warning in his voice.

“Tell them it’s SHIELD business,” he snapped. “Isn’t that the usual excuse?”

What Steve did to placate the crowd growing around them, he didn’t know; he was too intent on Killian to care. “Let me get this straight,” he growled. “You asked Tony for a trade and when he told you no, because I know him, he wouldn’t ever want that and he wouldn’t be quiet about it, you cornered him and insisted you’d only listen to a no from me.” It wasn’t a question. Tony’s thoughts and emotions were flooding him with what Killian had tried to do to him. He growled again at the image of Killian’s hand on Tony’s arm, removed after only a moment. This—this—alpha had tried to put his hands on Tony, had ignored his clear no, and was still babbling on about whatever business deal he wanted out of Bucky—or, more likely, Tony, though as an omega, Tony wouldn’t be able to make that decision.

“It’s a yes or no question, Killian,” he finally snapped, losing his temper. “Did you or did you not ignore Tony’s answer—"

“He’s an omega,” Killian tried.

“He’s a person. He’s a person who was clearly uncomfortable with you and you should never have ignored that. The only reason you’re still standing and not laid out on the floor is because he cares about making a scene, but guess what, I don’t.” His hand tightened on Killian’s throat, making the man wheeze. “Do—”

“Bucky,” Tony said quietly, cutting through his anger.

Without removing his hand from Killian, he looked at Tony. Tony still looked a little shaken, but there was something else in his eyes, something that Bucky didn’t know how to describe.

“Let him go,” Tony continued. “You made your point.”

“He—”

“Yeah, he did,” Tony said, knowing what he was going to say. Bucky wondered if his own shields were down, letting Tony read his thoughts and feelings. “And you were here to stop it, so it’s okay. Let him go, we can go get burgers.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to make sure Killian never laid hands on someone unwilling ever again, but then Steve was there, carefully pulling Bucky away as he muttered to him about seeing what Fury could do about Killian. And that wasn’t exactly what Bucky wanted, but it was better than nothing, and taking care of Tony was his priority anyway. So since Tony wanted burgers, he would go get burgers.

He spun on his heels, intent on heading to the elevators, only to freezes as soon as he saw Tony. They were supposed to be faking it, which meant that he should do something—wrap an arm around Tony’s waist or kiss his forehead or—or something. But Tony had just had to deal with an unwelcome touch. He shouldn’t have to deal with another one so soon afterwards.

Tony surprised him though by stepping forward and sliding his hand into Bucky’s, interlacing their fingers. “Come on, alpha. Let’s go home,” he said, leading Bucky through the crowd watching them. Bucky ignored them in favor of drinking in the sight of Tony whole and healthy, if not happy.

They were quiet in the elevator ride back down to the parking garage, quiet as they climbed into the back of the car, quiet as Happy pulled out onto the road. Then Tony slid across the backseat to tuck up against Bucky’s side. He rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder, and, after a moment, Bucky rested his cheek against Tony’s curls.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Tony said. Bucky could feel the truth in his words through their bond, and he realized that Tony hadn’t put his mental shields back up. “I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I hadn’t been expecting something like that.”

“Shouldn’t have taken it so far though. I know you’re not—we’re not—” He grimaced as he fumbled over the words. He’d been able to admit for three months that he and Tony weren’t in a relationship, why was it so hard now?

Tony hesitated before carefully saying, “We could be.”

“We—what?”

“Bucky Bear,” Tony said warmly, sitting up so he could look him in the eyes. “You have to know—people don’t just do what you did tonight or the night we met, for that matter. Not for me. I—I don’t know, the way we bonded, it threw me off. I wasn’t expecting it and I reacted badly. But—then the way you reacted to Killian got me thinking—maybe we could try?”

“Try?” Bucky whispered.

“Try us?” Tony asked, leaning back in slowly, giving Bucky enough time to move away if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. “Yeah,” he breathed. “We could try. I—I’d like that.”

Tony smiled at him, bright and lovely, and closed the distance between them.

#alle writes #winteriron #if you like please consider reblogging #alle answers

166 notes · View notes

keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

lavender latte: viii

(M (for now!)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 6 || chapter 7 || chapter 9 ||

masterlist

word count: ~4.7k

realities, huh.

warnings: descriptions of blood and bodily injury, post-traumatic symptoms, panic/anxiety attacks

----

oof. wow. here it is, part one of the BIG boy chapter. please mind the warnings on this one!! trauma and post-traumatic symptoms are a big theme in this chapter and the next.

as an author, these have been some of the harder, more vulnerable chapters to create and i hope that the writing shows this :’’’^) all that said, enjoy :’^)

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Keigo was fucked up.

Or he had fucked up.

It was hard to tell the specifics of his predicament, considering how hard he’d hit his head.

‘Hawks’ was known for his speed, his skill, and his ability to finish fights off before they even had a chance to truly start. He prided himself on his prowess, the product of his own diligence and meticulous training. Normally, Keigo kept to these high standards without fail and with faltering.

On the rare occasion he did get injured, it was usually simple scrapes or bruises.

Except, sometimes time, his shortcomings created much more than scratches.

His left arm was twisted the wrong way, wrenched from its socket. His skull ached, hair sticking to the back of his neck and cold.

Keigo blinked slowly, vision tilting and blurry against the asphalt he’d crashed onto. He’d sent his feathers to finish off what was left of the fight, knowing that he was, bodily, down for the count.

It hadn’t started as a large fight, notably. It shouldn’t have gotten so bad. The first alert he’d received just made it seem like petty burglary. Quickly after arriving on the scene, it escalated into an entire firefight spanning several blocks.

He’d been one of the first heroes there, naturally. It wasn’t hard to disarm and pin most of the villains down, but quickly, things got out of hand. Figures forming from the afternoon’s shadows, quickly turning the simple de-escalation into an all-out brawl.

Keigo pushed himself from the filthy ground, coughing up spittle and blood on the blacktop below. It wasn’t from an internal injury, he knew, just a bitten tongue and cheek that made the drippings of his mouth pink and cloudy.

He sat up, forcing himself to his feet as more heroes arrived, finishing the job out of sheer numbers. Mentally, he cursed his mistakes and his stupor. The media circus and bureaucratic bullshit he was undoubtedly going to have to deal with made him audibly groan. Keigo could handle pain without question, but his least favorite parts of his job were the nuts and bolts of it all.

Maybe it was the head trauma or the fact he’d just gotten sloppy lately, but Keigo didn’t even notice the oddly large amount of shattered glass at the scene or the shadows that loomed and weaved without rest nearby, though they never moved to the offensive.

...

You sat on your couch, boot propped up (as usual), and a pillow hugged in your arms.

Typically, you weren’t one to watch the news, but the moment you’d seen the alert from your phone about ‘large scale villain attack- Hawks and Miruko on the scene!, you’d rushed to turn on any channel that had coverage.

Which, creating a sense of dread in your gut, was most of them.

You watched the varying camera angles of the fight, squeezing the pillow tightly in your arms like the pressure would comfort you.

The fear and terror was such a contrast to the absolute bliss of the first couple of weeks of you and Keigo’s relationship.

During that time, your text-based communication hardly changed, still ambiently throughout the day and including the exchange of many memes and well-placed photographs and selfies.

The messages had changed, somewhat, truth be told. There was a sweetness to it, soft, warm, and new. The bantering never stopped, but woven within each of your words were small, tender lines that were new to you both.

Wonderfully new.

You found that Keigo was particularly affectionate over text, but it was nothing compared to him in-person.

You hadn’t really expected him to be clingy. Not based on the way he texted and talked previously and how he was generally portrayed by the public.

But god, was he.

He came over several other nights, always bearing food, drinks, and a bright smile. He wouldn’t even think of settling for the evening in the comfort of your couch (or bed) until you’d been showered in kisses and teasing touches, always seeming hungry, maybe even starved.

He was careful, however, to never go too far or touch too much.

When you two would finally settle on the couch, usually finding yourself strewn over each other in some way, Keigo would continue heaping on affection in any way he could, subtle or otherwise. You returned the gestures, giving your own too.

You craved the heat of his body in the same way he hungered for yours.

You found that, as the nights would wear on, he tended to slip his rough hands under any top you might be wearing, settling his grip on your sides or back. He’d either press and massage, or just ambiently draw shapes. At first, you thought it was some sort of sexual preamble, expecting his touch to drift higher and hungrier.

It took you a night or two of it to realize it wasn’t like that at all—

Keigo just craved contact.

It all made sense, though your revelation surprised you a bi at first.

One night, with his head in your lap, you had simply hummed out, “I never thought you’d be touch-starved.”

Keigo hummed as you ran your nails around the shell of his ear, “Mind elaborating on that one?”

“You’re always touching me when we’re together,” You replied simply, heart squeezing at the little twinges of anxiety you could see forming around Keigo’s eyes. “Not that it's a bad thing— I really love all of it, it’s just sweet. I didn’t think you’d be so affectionate and touchy. I would dare to say, it's cute.”

That comment turned Keigo’s cheeks bright red, though you hardly got much of a chance to tease him about it before he was on you with another wave of soft kisses and squeezes.

Maybe, you were a little touch-starved yourself.

And definitely, surely, falling into each other simply and sweetly felt like heaven.

...

But all of that syrupy goodness was gone, the flavor of it stale and rotten.

All you could focus on was your TV screen as Hawks was being pulled from an alleyway. The camera angle was poor, the quality shaky, but the picture was clear as day to you.

Keigo was walking, barely, most of his weight bared into Miruko’s side. He looked half-dead when he first emerged, limbs twisted painfully and face downcast.

He brightened up a moment later. You weren’t even sure that anyone would’ve caught the change in his expression if they didn’t know him as intimately as you did.

Your chest tightened painfully when he gave his most dashing smile, pearly white teeth stained with blood that was rushing from a wide cut on his forehead. The juxtaposition of him being purely fucked up mixed with the shining expressions he was flashing at the media made your stomach churn with dread.

He’s hurt.

And it seems bad.

You chewed your bottom lip until it ached.

The newscast kept playing, showing the wreckage of the scene, all of the hurt civilians— it was a few cities over, but you swore you could hear the sirens just outside of your window.

You dug around for your phone, typing out a message to Keigo, fingers shaking as you did.

[you]: hey i saw about the attack? how are you doing?

Texting him was the bare minimum, wasn’t it? If you could, you’d call. But based on the way he was reported to have been taken to a nearby hospital, he wouldn’t be answering his phone any time soon.

It didn’t feel like enough, but what more could you do?

You felt uncomfortably powerless.

A very lucid, perhaps cruel part of your mind rang out amid your quiet panic:

Get used to it.

You fell back into the cushions, unable to turn off the screen, though unable to do anything other than watch and churn.

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Keigo didn’t have a great recollection of the day's events after sustaining his fairly significant head injury, not to mention the shattering of the bones in his right arm and a few in his left leg. Not to mention his sorely dislocated shoulder.

Pain blotted things out memory, he knew.

Hospital trips were few and far between for Keigo, but in the unfortunate circumstance he was stuck and strung up with wires and IV tubes, he was more than well taken care of.

He was aware, somewhat, of the Commission’s hold on the scruff of his neck, though complacent in it. His good attitude and impeccable, nearly-perfect performance earned him the best medical care they could provide.

Some sweet girl, a student from the west, was brought in to heal his wounds. Healing quirks of any significance were rare, so it was always interesting to see how they worked and manifested.

The girl’s quirk came at the price of any energy his body had, but he was completely patched up in a number of minutes. Fatigue be damned, he was happy to be quickly and easily put back together. He made sure to put on his best camera-ready smile as the girl traced symbols on the backs of his hands, fingers shaking and shyly smiling.

She was probably starstruck, all things considered. Meanwhile, Keigo was exhausted and out of it.

All through it, all of it, the actual fight and subsequent medical nightmare, he had slipped into a far different mindset than the one he’d been occupying for the last couple of weeks.

Consequently, he hadn’t thought of you at all.

You didn’t even cross his mind.

Keigo could’ve blamed it on hitting his head, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair or truthful.

All the same, the absence would burn later.

...

Keigo flashed a dopey smile to the door of his hospital room when he spotted a familiar puff of bright yellow hair.

Despite his stupor, familiarity still resonated. Besides, his PA stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the greyscale scrubs and antiseptic.

“Akane! I knew you’d never be far in my time of need,” Keigo relaxed against the hospital bed he was still resigned to. He was to be discharged as soon as possible for the bevy of press reports he would had to complete. Not to mention the mountains of paperwork he’d probably have to file and sign.

Akane kept a stern but humored expression as she shooed a nurse out of Keigo’s room. She was shorter than most, face cut with sharp angles and high ridges. They were dressed immaculately as always, a well-tailored black suit with crisp-looking dress shoes. All professionalism, trained and honed by the Commission in a similar way to Keigo, though it was implicitly recognized.

“You’ve got a press conference in thirty with Miruko,” Akane didn’t answer his greeting, though Keigo could tell by their quick nod that it was at least acknowledged. They rolled a small suitcase next to the bed. “Extra hero costume in there. I called your normal hair and makeup, they’ll be in a few minutes after I leave. It’s been a while since you’ve been this injured in a fight, so put on a good show for everyone, won’t you?”

Akane’s sarcasm always brought a smile to his face, contrasting so starkly with their well-pressed hems and seams.

Keigo quickly sat up, dropping his feet to the cold linoleum below, “Always a show.”

He quickly began to re-robe into his new garments, tired mind returning to its trained roots.

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You had been watching the newscast for hours, probably (definitely) against your best interest.

You’d have plenty of time to kick yourself for it later.

You couldn’t stop watching the repetitive footage and bland media, despite the report that ‘Hawks’ was safe, well and receiving treatment.

Until you saw him, you couldn’t rest—- Or that’s what it felt like, anyway.

The image of him bloodied felt painfully etched into the forefront of your mind. The contours and highlights of Keigo’s wounds were uncomfortably bright and hot, nestled next to swirling images of your own. Uncomfortably vivid sensations and colors of your own stitched-up wounds that once wept blood themselves.

If you steeped in it all too deeply or for too long, your breathing would quicken, memories unbridled in the way they sucked down.

Sweat dripping down your brow, you willed your breath even and slowly despite how you definitely were having trouble handling what you were experiencing.

As the evening wore into night, you remained wired.

You convinced yourself, despite the thorns that ran deep, you would be able to rest once you saw Keigo well.

Eventually, there was an announcement for a late press conference, a conclusion to the media frenzy.

You knew you’d stay up for it, no matter how long it took to air. You knew he was fine, it had been confirmed over and over throughout the coverage, but it wasn’t enough.

You just need to see him.

Then you’ll be fine.

Keigo is fine.

No amount of reassurance comforted you. You were sinking too deeply in your throes, ungrounded and crackling within your own fragile mind.

The memories of blood and gore and hot, white fear rolled over you, suffocatingly close to how you’d felt less than a month prior.

On the cold cement floor of the tea shop, you had Keigo’s feather, the knowingness that he would be there.

Yet, now?

You were alone in your dim apartment.

No Keigo.

No villains.

Just you and your skull.

You had to pull yourself back when you felt your quirk begin to activate with your adrenaline, thankful for the low stimulation of your apartment, and the pillow in your arms being exchanged for the plushie Keigo had gifted you. You forced yourself to ground, counting your breaths, and holding yourself together.

(Maybe the trauma of your own run-in was deeper than you wanted to acknowledge.)

You pushed the thought aside as the live footage of the press conference began. It was better to compartmentalize it all, wasn’t it? Why not shove it back where it was easier to not deal with? You’d get a therapist or something.

If Keigo is okay, you’ll be okay.

The press conference decor was coated with the diamond insignia of the Public Safety Hero Commission, along with a few sponsors and nearby police departments. Local heroes and police officers sat around microphones with plastic waterbottles, ringing around the focal points of the events:

Keigo and Miruko.

Seeing him, perfectly in uniform and switched-on didn’t make you feel better.

If anything, it made you feel worse.

Before everything, when he was just your regular you pined after, you saw and heard of him doing heroic duties all the time.

But, it was different when Keigo was your partner, yet living an entirely different reality from yours. In the safety of your apartment, and formerly the teashop, that line of difference was somewhat blurred, or, it at least appeared to be.

But while Keigo was shiny and dazzling, charismatic and blunt as ever on the stage of the conference, the contrast turned polar.

As there was a jeer of laughter, Keigo grinning as Miruko clapped a hand on his back, your stomach rolled.

Seeing him fine and good-as-new wasn’t soothing.

It was like pouring moonshine on a brush fire.

Every moment of the conference highlighted the separation between the two of you, the feeling of fear and now loss so strongly in your mind, it started to taste like the tannin of a rotten wine .

The concoction was made even viler as the memories of injuries didn’t fade or falter.

Your chest ached.

The press conference droned on in front of you, but none of the content of it registered. It was all sickly background noise to your own pains

You pressed the plushie against your stomach, ignoring the phantom stabs of rancid-yellow that traced up your leg from your booted foot.

...

“From what we can surmise, there’s activity of several different villain groups in this area that are connected. This incident is related.”

...

You were getting to yourself, you had been all evening. The problem was you couldn’t climb out—

Not if you weren’t honest and self-aware.

Too bad you were actively spiraling away from anything even close to the latter and former.

...

“There is much we don’t know at this time, but it is clear there must be further investigation into the roots of the attack.”

...

You recognized, even then, that Keigo was going to be in harm's way because of his job, constantly. He was always in danger.

It just felt different, having to see it play out in front of you, isolated from him in all ways except the glimmer he showed the cameras and the gore he bore prior.

The absences burned.

Your gaze moved to your phone, the device still dormant.

With a thick, sticky swallow, you resigned yourself to sitting back into the cushions of your couch, spiraling and numbing as you had been hours.

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Following the press conference, Keigo had one priority—

Sleep.

Despite Akane’s nagging that they ‘really needed to talk to him’, Keigo was exhausted after being healed and wanted nothing more than to go home and rest for as long as he could make himself lay still.

Maybe, he could’ve handled a patrol (if he had had anything significant of his wings left), but he could not stand the idea of dealing with bureaucratic bullshit in his wrung-out state.

At this admission, Akane sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Fine, but you need to come to the office as soon as possible,” Akane seemed exasperated after such a long evening (now night), of dealing with the attack. “Seriously, or your publicist is going to kick both of our asses.”

Keigo didn’t ponder too far into the topic of whatever Akane needed him for. Far too mentally wiped-out to bother with what was undoubtedly bureaucratic bullshit.

He rolled his eyes, sending a feather forward to trigger the automatic doors ahead, “I’ll be sure to come in— It’s not like I don’t have a backlog of paperwork to finish.”

“That too,” Akane sighed, pausing outside of the doors, just dimly lit under the lip of the entrance of the building. “Feel better, quick. And please, stay safe.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow, “You know I always am. I’ll see you around tomorrow, bright and early.”

Keigo flew away so quickly, he didn't notice Akane’s pinched expression and set jaw and she waved goodbye.

...

Nearly featherless and on the edge of total exhaustion, Keigo dragged himself back to his penthouse. His mind and body ached, his thoughts messy and disorganized.

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar state, though he didn’t get to it often.

He had ample training to not get like this. The fuzziness he was clouded by should’ve been tossed aside easily; he blamed his own overcast on the healing he received.

(And, not that he, perhaps, had more on his mind as of late)

More on his mind meant more to forget.

It wasn’t until he toweled off from a quick shower that he even looked at his phone.

It wasn’t until he saw your single text that you even came to his mind.

Keigo called you nearly instantly, jaw going tight.

It made sense that he’d forget, he rationalized.

The portion of his psyche that was trained to be a hero was the same part that struggled the most with his feelings for you. All of the affection, validation, and deep admiration (and perhaps more) was slowly but surely allowing long-dormant parts of him to awaken—

Yet, all of the new roots and growth aside, he’d forgotten about you in the chaos of the day.

Maybe a passing, subconscious twinge in his gut, but otherwise? Nothing.

A bit of guilt chewed him as the line began to ring.

You laid across your couch, curled up with the plushie in your arms. The news reports played like white noise, your mind long having gone to gum and static. You alternated between different horrors of memory and sensation.

The buzzing and shrill sound of your ringtone made your jump, pulling you from your stupor.

[birdboy <3] calling...

You immediately picked up the call.

“Keigo?” You asked, trying to ignore the continual light shaking of your hands.

“Hey, dove,” His voice was cool and calm. “Sorry, I just saw your message now. I figure you saw all the news, but I’m all good, no worries! How are you?”

Oh.

Was it that easy?

The gears in your skull turned far slower than you wanted them to.

He’s fine, (Y/N).

He’s so unbothered.

Everything is fine.

You tried to comfort yourself, taking a few methodical breaths.

“Dove? Are you there?”

Get your shit together.

“Yeah, I am.” You shook your head. “I was worried, that’s all. My bad. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“The news really plays things up, huh?” Keigo laughed with a sigh, scratchy from the speaker. “Sorry about the media circus. They like the drama.”

“Uh-huh.” You replied, feeling yourself begin to spin all over again.

Drama.

Dramatics.

...

Calm down.

It wasn’t that simple.

“Hey, dove, are you alright?” Keigo spoke casually from the line. Maybe there was some concern in his tone (or you just wanted there to be). You couldn’t fully tell.

You sank back into the couch, bending your good leg into your chest, “I was just worried, is all. I freaked myself out.”

“I’m sorry about that, angel,” Keigo clicked from the phone. “I don’t get banged up too often. Besides, they always stitch me back together quickly! It’s just like this sometimes.”

“‘It’s just like this sometimes’,” You repeat mechanically, processing so slowly it was painful. Your voice sounded far off—

You felt like you were drowning.

Why couldn’t you handle seeing him hurt?

It’s part of his job.

Why does this all feel so bad?

“Can you come over?” You asked, praying that he’d say yes, and maybe, maybe, you could have your fears be assuaged with some contact. Some support—

“Sorry, dove, the healer they got for me really drained me,” Keigo yawned from the other side of the line. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay. But, tomorrow is just an office day for me, so I can come by after?”

Your heart sank in your chest, faster and harder than you could try to make yield.

“That works,” You replied, despite how rotten you felt. “Take care, okay? Get some rest.”

You hung up abruptly, not waiting for his reply, and lowering your head.

Tears drip from your eyes, soaking the plushie in your arms as you finally let out the sobs you had been holding back for hours.

...

Despite Keigo’s exhaustion, he knew that the entire phone call was so off. You’d never hung up that quickly before, and you sounded a bit off.

None of it sat right.

He shot off a kind text or two before knocking out for the night, nodding off just after sending them.

...

You hardly slept.

You felt like you were being eaten alive as the night wore on and the moon remained high.

It was all metastasized, unchecked. Breathing exercises had stopped cutting it at some point, your own thoughts and methodical actions lost in the soup of it all.

You ‘rationalized’.

He’s a fucking hero, he’s going to get hurt. It’s part of the job and you need to get over it.

That doesn’t matter! It’s still terrifying to see someone you care about super injured!

You knew all of that though.

None of it was new.

What was new, and harder to understand, was the storm that had buried itself like a barbed arrow between the two halves of your brain.

The rest of it.

The complex miasma of feelings that were only set off by the events and subsequent feelings you tried to rationalize.

The mental thunder-cracks kept you tossing and turning, any sleep light and flighty. Your eyes burned and dripped through the entire night, soaking your pillowcase.

By the time morning light began to shift in from the heavy curtains of your bedroom, you might’ve felt worse than you did the night prior.

Your mouth was dry, tongue tacky, and swollen in your mouth. You forced yourself out of bed, methodically showering despite all of the energy it took with your leg still recovering.

You felt hazy beyond belief, fatigued, and purely awful.

Quickly, you nested for the day, still damp from your shower and sore from your lack of sleep. Tucking into the couch, you covered yourself with blankets and held the plushie to your chest, not even bothering to turn on the TV.

Keigo, meanwhile, prepped for his office day. Since his wings were sparse, he made an extra effort for his face. Bit of concealer to brighten his dark circles and smooth out the finer lines around his brow and under his eyes.

It seemed pertinent to cover more, wipe away his anxieties as his gaze flickered to his phone on the countertop of his bathroom.

You’d never responded the night before. You hadn’t said anything— not even giving an indication that you’d seen the message.

Truthfully, now that the drum of the press and his de-facto role had died down, your lack of contact filled him with burning anxiety.

You two had a habit of texting each other in the mornings, little sweet greetings and the occasional messy selfie that the other adored. Keigo typically woke up earlier than you, but still.

He gave you a call.

You robotically picked up on the second ring, hardly looking at your phone and its caller as you held it to your ear, “Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Keigo’s voice seemed too chipper from the other side of the line. “I just wanted to call and check-in. You just sounded a bit off last night, is all. Are you doing okay?”

“Oh,” You sounded hollow, far-off, and sticky.

There was a pause, your numbed out psyche far-too slow and miswired to say anything else.

“(Y/N)?” Keigo asked. “Are you there?”

Your name shoved you a bit closer to reality.

“Yeah, I am.” You blinked, your name making you twitch, “Sorry, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Awww, since last night too?” Keigo’s wings beat in the background of the call. “Is that why you wanted me to come over?”

Sort of, not really.

Your voice shook as you quickly were losing the will to keep it even, “U-um—”

How do you even explain?

Your quirk spun alive, the feeling of shrapnel and rusted nails running jagged lines down your spine.

You need to be honest.

“I j-just,” You sniffled back tears, though fruitlessly. “I just got really scared.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, holding the phone away from your mouth and praying that Keigo couldn’t hear the muffled sobs you forced to stay in your throat.

“It’s alright, I’m okay!” He tried to assure you, tensing at the doorway to his balcony. “Everything is totally fine, there’s no reason to be scared.”

You went quiet on the other side of the receiver, all sound muffled and mixed. It made Keigo chew his lip, tightening his grip on the phone.

“I know.” Your voice broke at the same moment as Keigo’s chest tightened. You sounded so hurt.

It pricked those seldom-used parts of his brain alive.

It was those weird tingles and shooting bits of cortisol that screamed ‘protect them’. They screamed to life at your distress, hot and bright.

“Dove, are you alright? Are you crying?” Panic seeped into his tone as his feathers rippled from soft to razor-sharp in his instinctual rise.

“I just got so f-fucking scared,” You choked, voice fizzling on the line. “Keigo, I’m sorry, I just— “

Your voice broke into tears, sobs echoing from the phone.

Keigo’s grip tightened, heart-pounding and feathers vibrating.

He acted before thinking too hard about it.

“(Y/N), I’m gonna come over, okay? I’ll be there soon,” Keigo assured you, and himself, truthfully as he tore open his balcony door and launched into the sky

You sputtering out an affirmative as wind-whipped into the receiver.

Burying your face in your hands, you felt dread weigh you down from the inside out.

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ko-fi

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#salem writes #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks #takami keigo #my hero academia #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #lavender latte #takami keigo x y/n #enjoy y'all hehe and SMOOCH

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babyangellee · 4 years

Text

Critical Condition

AHHH PART 3!

Summary- Upon further assessment, your injuries are a lot worse than expected

Warnings- too much cuteness and angst

Word Count- 1.7k

AN- Please don’t kill me, I know it kind of short but I hope you love it!

[Part 1] [Part 2]

The doctor quietly walked into the waiting room to see the group of agents, all of them were asleep except one. Spencer sat with his head in his hands, getting more anxious as the time ticked by.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" The doctor spoke causing Spencer's head to whip up immediately, quickly tapping JJ who was resting next to him. She jolted awake seeing the doctor, she tapped Emily which started a chain reaction. Soon enough all the agents were wide awake waiting for the doctor to continue.

"Hi, my name is Doctor Feller. Let me start by saying that Y/N is definitely a fighter. When she came in we assessed that she had acute hypothermia, a concussion, and two stab wounds. Upon further examination, we realized that the stab wound to her abdomen was made at an angle and pierced her left lung. We were able to stabilize her long enough for surgery. We did have to restart her heart once but she bounced back right away. She is out of surgery and in the ICU now."

No one knew how to process the doctor's words. They all stood there in shock trying to think of something to say or do. "Can we see her?" Your mother finally spoke up after a moment of silence. "She is still in critical condition but you may see her, I ask only two at a time in the room." Everyone nodded knowing that your mom and Spencer would go in first, there was no question about it.

The doctor led them to your room and opened the door for them. Spencer walked in first, upon seeing you he closed his eyes. You laid there hooked up to machines and IVs. Your normally glowing skin was pale and your lips were blue. Your mom sighed and sat down in one of the chairs by your bed, Spencer following suit sitting on the other side.

Liv reached out and grabbed your hand with hers and brought it up to her mouth to kiss your knuckles. She couldn't stand to see you like this, she had already lost one of her children, she definitely couldn't lose the other. She was horrified when Hotch had informed her that it was Danny that did this to you. Her immediate reaction was to call her sister and scream at her for what her son had done, what pain he had inflicted on the family. Of course, her sister was just as shocked and scared as your mother was, begging to be kept informed of your condition.

Your mom was brought out of her thoughts when she heard Spencer talking. "Liv?" He asked gently. She looked up at him nodding for him to continue what he was going to say. "Can I show you something?" He was quiet and careful with his words, like maybe if he spoke too loud or in a certain tone, something bad would happen. "Of course sweetheart," She responded, matching his tone and volume.

He slowly took the hand that wasn't holding yours and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small velvet box and handed it to your mom. She gasped reaching out and grabbing it. She let go of your hand to open the box and saw a gorgeous diamond ring inside. "I've been carrying that around for three months, waiting for the right time to ask." He slightly chuckled to himself. He wanted everything about his proposal to be perfect because to him you were the most perfect girl in the world.

"She's going to love it." Liv breathed out examining the beautiful rose gold ring. "I hope so, I had to recruit JJ and Will to help me pick it out. It took us weeks to decide." He explained, remembering them yelling at each other in the middle of a jewelry store while the worker tried to call them down. That was just the first trip, after that, they decided that they needed to bring Will along to play mediator.

After about an hour Spencer and Liv finally stood up and left the room wanting to give everyone else a chance to see you. Emily and JJ went in next, they only stayed for a few minutes, the sight of you being too hard to look at. Then Rossi and Hotch went, leaving Derek and Penelope to go in last.

Seeing you was hard on Derek, you were like a little sister to him and he hated seeing his family hurt. Seeing you tied to that chair in pain was still burned into the inside of his eyelids and all he wanted was to wake up and realize that this was all some sick, twisted nightmare. He'd wake up on the jet to see you and Spencer sitting across from him playing an intense game of chess (that you were of course losing) giggling about some stupid little fact. But it wasn't a dream. This was real life and you were her sitting in front of him in the hospital.

Much like JJ and Emily, Derek and Garcia couldn't stand to see you like that so they made their visit brief. Within 45 minutes, Spencer was back in the room holding your hand, while your mom went to go get some food and coffee for everyone.

"Hey Y/N." He breathed tears forming in his eyes again. "I don't know if you can hear me or not but I hope you can. I love you, and I really need you. I can't do this without you, I don't want to do this without you. So I need you to keep fighting and to wake up and come back to me, come back to all of us. I need you to wake up because Y/N I want more than anything to marry you and grow old with you. So you need to wake up. You need to come back. Please." Spencer couldn't stop the sob that racked his body as he stared at you.

After a while Hotch had told everyone to go home and get some rest, they could visit you tomorrow. Your mom and Spencer had stayed behind, wanting to be the first ones updated if anything happened. It's a good thing that they did because around seven in the morning Doctor Feller came in to do his checkup.

"Good news! Her O2 stats are going up, at this rate we should be able to take her off the ventilator tomorrow and wean her off some of the medication." He smiled writing something down on his clipboard. "What does that mean?" Your mom asked sitting up for her sleeping position on the couch in the room. "That means she's on the path to waking up real soon." With that, he grabbed his clipboard and left. Spencer and Liv released a breath neither realized they were holding.

The next couple of days were painstakingly long for everyone, you weren't getting any better but you weren't getting any worse either. Everyone came by to visit you multiple times and your mom even called your dad. Spencer was originally taken aback by it knowing that your dad was a touchy subject with your mom after he left he still wanted to stay in contact with you and Liam. After Liam died it was weird, Your mom and Dad didn't speak to each other anymore, and you hardly went to see him. After the funeral, you didn't see him again until a year later at your high school graduation. He knew that your parents hadn't spoken in twelve years.

Hotch offered to have an Agent fly out to Pasadena on the jet and get him but he declined. He said he would be on the next flight out and he was. He arrived a day after he got the call.

"You must be Mr. Y/L/N, I'm Spencer." This was a rare exception to Spencer's rule about handshakes. Despite the current situation he wanted to make a good impression on your father. He reached his hand out giving your dad a firm handshake. “Call me Kevin.” While the time passed Spencer got to know your dad and even told him about the ring. Your dad gave his approval and his blessing which meant a lot to Spencer, seeing as they had just met.

Days turned into a week before the doctor finally told them that you were stable enough to be taken off the ventilator. A day later they started taking you off some of the medications and you were scheduled to wake up. "She should be waking up soon, she's going to be a little out of it but she will definitely be happy to see some familiar faces." And with that Doctor Feller walked away urging someone to go in. After much discussion, Spencer decided that he was going to go in alone.

When he walked in he could have sworn his heart melted. You were starting to look better already, your skin wasn't as pale, your lips were back to their normal color, and your chest was rising and falling all on its own. He sat down next to you and grabbed your hand giving it a small squeeze, but what he didn't expect was to feel you squeeze right back as you started to stir and your eyes fluttered open.

"Hi love," Spencer breathed out with a huge grin on his face. You mustered up all your strength and gave a small smile back whispering a hey back. He looked at you before reaching out and brushing a hair out of your face and then reaching down and grabbing your hand again. "Listen there is something I need to say and it really can't wait any longer." He was talking fast which he only did when he was nervous. You just squeezed his hand again and nodded to the best of your ability urging him to continue. He didn't know if this was the right timing or not but this is something he needed to do and he needed to do it now. He just hoped that you liked it because this was a big deal and he needed it to be just right.

"Will you marry me?"

Taglist: @xogiaxo @stxrryspencer @reidloversisforever @chevyimpala00067 @spncersreid @reidsmemory @spencerreidisbootiful @kianagilder-blog @illuxions-x @spencersglasses

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #criminal #criminal minds #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #spencer reid x reader angst #derek morgan #spencer reid angst #david rossi #penelope garcia

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wychive · 4 years

Text

𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨

summary // you found your pile of ‘letters’ to hyunjin that contain thoughts that have never been said and decided to write to him one last time.

pairing(s) // hyunjin x gn!reader, hyunjin x oc, slight minho x reader

genre(s) // angst, letter fic

warning(s) // mentions of food, themes of being forgotten, vulgar wording, humiliation, overthinking

word count // 2.0k

author's note // happy birthday @noya-sannnn !! im sorry this was so late hhh you know how i am irl,, but i hope you enjoy this! i love you so much, jane <3 i apologize for the many grammar mistakes gn. i recommend listening to iu’s ending scene while reading this! btw y/n/n means your nickname.

[10/01/14, 3:55am]

dear jinnie,

hi there! it's y/n <3 i hope you're doing okay - i mean of course you are pfft anyways, just writing this short letter (more like paragraph) sort of as a venting mechanism? for things i cant tell you about lol im not so sure how you would call it, since you're so much better at words than i am. basically were like:

hyunjin: ow a brain freeze!

me: haha brain go brrrr

anyways haha yea <3 it's 4am so like,, ill see you at school!

signed,

your loser,

y/n/n

[15/02/14, 12:34am]

yo heartthrob!

im back with this kinda stuff haha it's been a whole? week? since ive written one of these so like yes..hi! i just wanted to say thanks, for today. you really know how to cheer me up huh? you really outdid yourself by setting up that little picnic for us. congrats on making the strawberry cake so perfectly <3 this day will always stay as a core memory in the back of my brain. you're too caring sometimes,,, istg you'll pay for this [maybe hugs?] >:)

signed,

your partner in crime,

y/n/n

[30/02/15, 01:29am]

jinnie-senpai~~

LMAO you hate me calling you that, doesn't change a thing though. hehe,, nways i hope you enjoyed your birthday present :) i got you that really cool skateboard that you wanted. i worked my ass off for that in my mother's garden so like,, you gotta thank me for that a thousand times :D nah jk, its a sincere gift, from me to you. i rarely do this for ANYONE so consider yourself lucky to have a best friend like me -3- also, seungmin is like….kinda the cutest person ever. introduce me to him pls, thank!

signed,

<your bestest friend3,

y/n

(p.s. you're kinda cute too,,,, ig,,, still stinkee tho)

[13/04/15, 9:04pm]

hey 'baby' (HAHAHA ihy for this)

i hope your day was okay! i didn't see much of you today (which was sort of a bummer but wtv) so like…. uh yea. you told me you were doing okay over text, which kinda surprised me because like?? we always video call lol this is kinda the first time,, but its okay, i trust you! (i really hope youre doing alright tho, i'll beat anyone up if they make you sad >:( ) you also called me 'sweetheart' today which was like…. omg wtf haha????????? that was so weird to me for some reason… a good kind of weird :D we haven't done those kinds of nicknames in a while so…. happy to know that they're back in session <3 i talked to the new girl today, she's really cool! like she knows the bean song on tiktok so like its a total win heh, ill introduce you to her tomorrow! you'll love her a lot

signed,

your 'lover',

y/n/n

[08/06/16, 10:23pm]

hey howl (hehe go back to that movie night we had)

this spring break sucks so much,, esp because youre not here (you still couldve brought me along :'[ ) but wtv i hope youre enjoying yourself. ive been hanging out with yeonnie lately and i found out she likes conan grey too like pls i love her sm. can we adopt her?? please???? she told me you guys have been video calling too and that makes me so happy!! you two are getting along so well aaa my precious babies </3

what if you developed a crush on her? haha…..jk unless?? (no jk dont shes all mine, stay away >:) ) anyways, i hope the three of us hang out soon. maybe go to that ice cream parlour where they serve the best cookies and cream?

signed,

your daisy,

y/n/n

[19/07/15, 01:23am]

peepee poopoo hello

heyheyhey!! (heh, haikyuu thingz) i hope youre doing okay! i mean sure you are, with everything going so well. also i feel like you're not telling me something. maybe it's just me? is it? i hope it is because you tell me everything,, we've been talking less these days but its okay! i know how busy you are, especially with your dad always bugging you,,

also, i think yeonbin likes you :0,, she keeps talking about you whenever we hang out. don't get me wrong, its not bad that she likes you but...something doesn't feel right. i feel like i'm being the third wheeler here and like ugh idk. haha laughs yea i think its just me.. im sorry, i didnt mean to do you like this,, anyways, ill see you soon + her too ofc- yall are inseparable lmao

signed,

your moonlight,

y/n/n

[23/07/15, 01:56am]

greetings, kind sir

lol more like mean sir but like aight KSKSK,, anyways,, how have you been? we haven't really talked in a while,, our convos are always so short with it being one-sided :/ i wish you were online more. yeonnie is ignoring me,, do you know why? i think you do,,, but when i asked you just said you didnt know. did i do something wrong? pls tell me..

she blocked my contact the other day and she won't even smile at me when i pass her in the hallways. its,, sad and stressful especially because she was the only one that would genuinely talk to me. i hate to say this,, but i miss you. us, hanging out like the best trio we are, yknow? but i dont think you miss me the same way. sorry, im getting out of hand. i know im just overreacting. im just gonna sleep ig,, good night! sweet dreams,,

signed,

your pink lemonade,

y/n/n

[25/07/15, 03:25am]

hi there

i heard you and her got together?? congrats, jinnie! im so proud of you,, especially because you never had even considered getting a girlfriend a few months earlier lmaO you really woo the ladies huh? anyways,, i hope you've been well since we last talked,, how many days has it been?? i would say nearly a week or so but honestly it feels like a hundred years,, considering you and i used to talk every day. but you have her now to keep you company.

keep this a secret but can you possibly tell me why it hurts when i see her? or when i mention her or even think of her?? is it because she's connected to you? but.. you're my best friend, so why? is it because i miss you? is it because im alone now? is it because you left me with a simple 'i have to go now,, bye y/n/n.'? im not sure either. im being silly, i apologize. ill figure it out sooner or later. sweet dreams, jinnie

signed,

your asswipe,

y/n

[25/07/15, 04:30am]

jinnie

it's because i love you.

signed,

your butterfly,

y/n

[??/08/??, 05:??am]

you

i miss your lame jokes. i miss your smile. i miss your laughs. i miss your funny faces. i miss the way your eyes twinkle. i miss th way you would make me happy just by doing the bare minimum. i miss the disaster you made when cooking breakfast. i miss the night when you snuck me out just to go to that pretty lantern event. i miss when you would call out my name everytime we met. i miss when we would share earbuds in train rides. dont you get it, hyunjin? i miss you.

[??/??/15, ??:??am]

asshole.

please tell me that isn't true, please. you're too kind to do these kinds of things, right? + i was your best friend,, then, why, why did you hurt me like this. i didnt do anything wrong.. you couldve just told me you didnt like me,,, why did she have to tell me? out of all people.

youre so pathetic for this,, i thought you were brave, bold - but youre just a fucking coward. i loved you, i really did. and i realised too late… im sorry. she,, i shouldn't have talked to her in the first place, right? i bet you knew she humiliated me, in front of everyone. of course you did, you were the only one that knew. you told her. fuck, i hate you so much (yet why do i long for you on a night like this?). you know how much that'll affect me and yet, there you are, laughing about it with her.

signed,

fuck off,

you know who i am.

[31/08/15, 03:41am]

ah, jinnie

please tell me this is just a nightmare. please, please. stop just reading my texts, please answer them. jinnie. i miss you so much. i dont care bout her, please just let me be in your arms. i dont care if you love me back, please just talk to me at least. tell me what i did wrong,, jinnie,, please,,, clear these tear stains on my cheek with kisses.

signed,

your fuck-up,

y/n

[15/09/15, 04:59am]

jinnie

why do i keep crying because of you? its been a few weeks since everything has happened. please, nothing has changed. i still love you the same even with all the hatred i have pent up in this stupid brain of mine. i wish i could just walk back in time, to where it all began.

when i first met you in third grade and you pushed me while playing soccer or maybe when we took those ridiculous prom pictures, remember those? i hope you still have them,, because i do too. i hope the pictures of us on your wall still hang there,, it'll remind you of the happy times. hm,, maybe you don't need them.

you already have millions of pictures with you and her,, i bet you printed some and replaced those with ours right? sly dog.

signed,

friend,

y/n/n

[04/02/16, 12:57am]

hey

i went to the park today and saw both of you being happy. it's nice to see your smile again. im sorry i didnt go up to you,, i just thought it would be awkward. when i heard that adorable laugh of yours, it made me realise that i lost something special. but it's okay isnt it? as your happiness matters more than mine.

signed,

y/n

[06/01/20, 08:00pm]

dear hyunjin,

im doing fine here. how about you? gosh,, how long has it been? years? since we last talked to each other. i havent heard from you since. i would just like to say i still think of you sometimes, when watering the plants or dancing while making pancakes. sometimes i think you're here with me too, just being the pals we were.

sometimes i'd see you out, just reading a book in the park or buying pasta sauce at the grocery store. it's nice to see you having a stable life. im not sure if you're still with her or not, but its good to know that you still have that large friend group. also! you're never gonna guess who im dating--

it's minho! do you remember him? the one that i used to hate,, uh yeah. he asked me out the other day- you may wonder how tf,,, i too do not know how tf but he gives the best hugs ever. he gave me the love i wanted from you. he stitched my heart back together after it broke,, i love him so much, jinnie..

it's snowing,, do you remember when we would skate on the frozen lake in front of your house? are your parents well? i wonder if your mother still has those earrings i bought for her birthday. i never told you this but your laugh and hers sound so similar.

i would just like to say thank you, for everything. you were a big part of my life, up until now. when we see each other after this, we would just be strangers. maybe flash a little smile or give a little wave whenever we greet each other but nothing more. some memories of us would flow in every now and then but it'll just be a short teaser. well, i'll be going now. smile for me, okay?

signed,

the one that loved you the most,

y/n.

taglist // @/noya-sannnn, @crvgio , @neo-shitty

reply to be in my gen taglist!

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misssquidtracy · 4 years

Text

SOS Part 3

So I grabbed the whump bat last night, took aim at my boi’s head, then proceeded to wallop him into the exosphere like the kickass cricket player I’m most certainly not. If you happen to see a moving star tonight, chances are it’ll be Gordon completing his first orbit, not a wayward satellite.

-x-

‘Gordon, you’ve activated your emergency code….Gordon? Gordon!’

Gordon stirred feebly, his head screaming in protest when he tried to raise it to follow his brother’s voice. He could hear movement outside what remained of Thunderbird Four, but knew he was in no condition to investigate the source.

Everything hurt so much.

Cracking an eye open, he spied Fuse retreating back to the Chaos Cruiser, Braman in his arms. Underwater distance distortion made separating one fuzzy shape from another hard, but the aquanaut possessed just enough visual strength to make out Havoc staring down at him from the safety of the cockpit.

She was smirking at him.

The coldness behind those blue eyes, so different yet so similar to Alan and Scott’s, filled Gordon with hopelessness. He was critically injured and had never so much as raised an eyebrow at Havoc or her brother, yet knew neither of them were going to lift a finger to help him.

Hopelessness turned to quiet despair when the Chaos Cruiser turned and began to make its way toward the surface. Using every ounce of willpower he possessed, Gordon managed to crack his eye open again, only to be met with pitch blackness. With the Chaos Cruiser’s spotlights gone, he was reminded of exactly how dark and isolated the seafloor really was.

He hoped he’d get to see his brother’s faces again. The way Scott frowned at him in concern if he left for a rescue without eating breakfast. The way Virgil smiled indulgently at him whenever he tested out a new joke. The way John sighed and shook his head at him when he asked if denial was a nice river in Egypt. The way Alan gawped at him in silent adoration every time he pulled a successful prank on one of their older brothers.

It would be nice to see Brains, Kayo, Penelope and Grandma again as well. Despite bearing no relation to the first three, Gordon considered them family and had fond memories attached to all of them. The way Brains chastised him every time he brought a pod or Thunderbird Four back in less than mint condition. The way Kayo smartassed him if he ever made tasteless jokes about her being Scott’s girlfriend. The way Penelope tutted at him whenever he requested iced tea instead of ‘proper’ tea. The way Grandma fussed over him on his rare down days.

Yes, he’d like to see them all again.

-x-

A familiar voice roused Gordon from the depths of unconsciousness.

If possible, everything hurt even worse than before. He was vaguely aware of water entering the demolished remains of Thunderbird Four’s cockpit and gave himself a mental pat on the back for having the forethought to put his helmet on. At least drowning wasn’t a threat.

The unbearable pain in his head, neck, left arm and right leg definitely was, though. His suit didn’t feel like it was torn anywhere, but he was fairly certain he'd broken at least two major bones.

Opening his eyes was far too much effort. Plus, doing so would confirm his worst fear; that he was still trapped in the dark, cold, terrifying carcass of his beloved yellow submarine.

Maybe his brothers hadn’t picked up his SOS. Thunderbird Four’s systems were damaged beyond recognition, and his comm device was equally redundant.

“Gordon? This is your brother, John. I need you to sit tight, help is on the way.”

Gordon stirred in response to the voice that had dragged him back to a state of semi-consciousness. He tried to say his brother’s name, but lacked the strength. The pain in his neck was starting to make him feel sick.

“Virgil, Scott and Alan have just left Tracy Island. Their ETA is approximately six and a half minutes. I’m going to stay with you until they arrive, okay? You don’t have to answer, but know that you’re not alone anymore.”

A stray tear leaked out of an eye that still refused to open.

“I’m not getting any vitals from your suit, so can’t say for certain what shape you’re in,” John continued, his voice calm and soothing, “But I promise that we’ll get you out in one piece. I’m half hoping we’ll have to shave your head, then maybe I can be the one making fun of you for a change.”

Another tear leaked out.

“Hey, do you remember that donkey mom adopted?” John gave a laugh that sounded genuine and forced at the same time, “You were very young, so may not remember. We called him Brandy because of the way he weaved like a drunk whenever he came to the gate. He was a working animal from a neighbouring farm who ended up at the local auction house when he couldn’t plough in straight lines anymore. His owners couldn’t afford basic farm machinery and were ineligible for a government grant, so were in no position to get him veterinary treatment. Mom felt sorry for him, so bid on him as a companion for Apollo, who was dad’s horse at the time. Mom used to sit you on him and lead you around the paddock. Well, I say lead…poor Brandy was so wonky he usually just ended up dragging mom diagonally across the field, but you loved it. He died of a colic complication right before Alan was born, but we told you he’d gone to live with a wild donkey herd on Carrot Mountain instead.”

Two more tears managed to escape before John’s voice faded and nothingness descended once again.

“It’s okay, Gordon. I’m here.”

-x-

His head was resting on something soft and sweet-smelling.

“Hurry, Parker! Please.”

Penelope reminded him of a swan; beautiful yet dangerous. He wondered if she liked the colour yellow as much as he did.

More nothingness.

-x-

Gordon’s next brush with consciousness wasn’t pleasant.

He was being carried, which meant he wasn’t underwater anymore. Whoever was carrying him smelt familiar and was cradling him in a firm yet gentle grip. He hoped it was Penelope, but knew it was probably Scott or Virgil.

“…multiple broken bones, severe whiplash, moderate head trauma.”

John was around as well, though Gordon couldn’t tell if his presence was physical or holographic. The voices he could hear were hurting his ears.

“….Chaos Cruiser sighted three miles northwest. I recommend immediate evasion.”

Gordon suddenly saw Havoc’s cold smirk imprinted on the inside of his eyelids.

She’d wanted him dead.

Even after all the lives he’d saved, someone had wanted (and presumably still wanted) him dead.

The thought terrified him.

“Whoa, Gordon!” Scott cried, tightening his hold when the aquanaut suddenly began to thrash in fear, “Easy! You’re safe now!”

Gordon didn’t think he’d ever feel safe again. Ignoring the agony brought on by his shredded muscles and shattered bones, he began to spasm and jerk in Scott’s arms, his caramel eyes wide his fear.

“Virgil!” Scott yelled, swearing loudly when he almost dropped his crippled brother onto the floor, “A little help!”

Two sets of hands were suddenly restraining him. One yanked his helmet off so that he could breathe unencumbered, but the rush of cool air to the face only served to worsen his frenzied writhing. A bolt of unimaginable pain shot up his spine and exploded at the base of his skull, making his vision swim.

Hurk, hurk.

“Virg, you need to back off,” Scott suddenly instructed, his tone offering no room for negotiation as he lowered Gordon’s lower half onto the floor and propped his torso up against his knee, “He’s going to be sick.”

“Won’t he choke?” came Alan’s frightened voice.

“Not so long as he’s sat upright,” Scott replied, patting Gordon gently on the back when the aquanaut began to hyperventilate, “I’m more worried about what he’s doing to his existing injuries in this state. We need to calm him down somehow.”

“There are handcuffs and some olanzapine in the first aid kit,” Virgil yelled from Thunderbird Two’s cockpit, “Restrain him and give him a 10mg intramuscular shot after his stomach has settled. That should calm him down.”

Poor Scott was powerless to do anything as his second youngest brother proceeded to puke all over him. Granted, he’d had people throw up on him before (they all had), but this time was different. Gordon’s condition made movement impossible and Scott was acutely aware that the stress of vomiting was making the aquanaut’s pulse erratic.

“I’ve got you,” Scott reassured, rubbing his brother’s back, only to recoil in horror when his hand travelled too far north, the resultant pressure causing Gordon to scream in agony.

The next ten seconds passed in a blur of pain glazed stupor. Scott yelled something at Virgil. Virgil yelled something at Alan. Alan panicked and began to cry. John yelled something at Virgil. Virgil swore and abandoned his post in Thunderbird Two’s cockpit to fetch something from the medical bay. Scott took whatever Virgil had found and stabbed it through Gordon’s suit and into his bicep, apologising quietly as he depressed the plunger.

In the background, a familiar British accent cut through the mayhem.

“Oh, Gordon.”

-x-

Gordon’s eyes fluttered open.

White. Everywhere was white.

His left arm was shrouded by a sling.

The floor was white.

His right leg was encased in a cast.

The curtains were white.

His head was concealed by bandages.

The walls were white.

His right arm was hooked to an IV.

The lab coat on the kind looking lady studying his heartrate monitor was white.

White had always been Gordon’s least favourite colour, but not anymore. He had a sudden newfound hatred for the colour purple.

Specifically, the shade of Havoc’s armour.

Luckily, the flowers on his bedside table were yellow.

-x-

Gordon’s first week in intensive care was not smooth.

Nightmares plagued him every time sleep beckoned, images of dark water, purple armour and cold smirks tormenting him as he sought relief from the pain of his battered body.

Scott rarely left his side and asked the nurses to take shifts so that one was always in the room. They’d been happy to oblige, but had been less happy with Scott’s habit of falling asleep next to his brother’s bed.

Virgil took over the running of International Rescue while Scott stayed in the hospital. John answered distress calls that necessitated the use of Thunderbird One and Alan covered space monitor duty when his redheaded brother was earthbound. Sally channelled her worry into cooking and freezing enough homecooked dinners to fill Thunderbird Three’s cargo bay, while Kayo took out her fury on her kickboxing dummy.

Scott was strict on visitors, mainly because Gordon tended to get emotional when he received them. Virgil visited every day with supplies for Scott. John came in every second day with bags full of Gordon’s favourite snacks. Penelope visited whenever her schedule permitted (which was quite often) and offered Sherbert as a form of pet therapy. Kayo and Sally took their turns after Virgil departed, their arms laden with homecooked culinary disasters and bunches of fresh hibiscus flowers from Tracy Island’s beach.

Alan wasn’t allowed to visit. His first proper time seeing Gordon had been three days after the aquanaut had been admitted. He’d landed the Helipod in the hospital’s car park, retrieved the stack of magazines he knew Gordon enjoyed reading from the backseat, asked a nice nurse for directions, found the correct room and pushed open the door, only to be met with the sight of his usually cheery brother having a full blown panic attack.

“OUT!” Scott had bellowed, releasing his hold on Gordon’s forearms to shove Alan back into the hallway. In the temporary absence of his oldest brother, it had taken the combined effort of two nurses to keep Gordon in bed.

Scott’s insistence that Alan not see Gordon for a bit was an exercise in futility, considering Alan had seen and heard everything in his brief six second visit. The youngest had received a tongue-lashing that was both unfair and unjustified, but he’d given Scott a free pass. The eldest Tracy was under a considerable amount of stress, which was further compounded by the late night vigils he held in a bid to alleviate Gordon’s night terrors.

It was two weeks before Alan learnt, second-hand from Virgil, about Gordon’s newfound fear of the Chaos Crew, specifically Havoc.

Unfortunately, it was another four weeks before Gordon recovered enough to tell them the reason for his fear.

Rage was an incredibly rare emotion to witness in the aquanaut, but when it happened, the world and his wife knew about it.

A common misconception outside of International Rescue was that it’s youngest operatives relied on their older brothers for protection. While Gordon wasn’t adverse to Scott or Virgil defending his honour, he could be quite the formidable foe when sufficiently provoked.

As Havoc would soon find out.

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zephyr-together · 3 years

Text

it’s been exactly one month since top surgery! here’s a summary of what all went down! disclaimer: please do not feel that you need to feel pressured to remember things from this post or any other, your doctor should instruct you on the most important things to do or not do, and also this is my experience and everyone’s will be different!

I saw Dr. Kenneth Wolf! I highly recommend him if you’re in the area or able to get to him, very skilled and very cheap (only was $5400, $5900 if you get nipple grafts which I ended up deciding not to have) there is a 250 lb weight limit though, they weigh you the day of surgery so if you’re unsure if you’ll be able to make it I’d suggest seeing a surgeon who operates more on plus sized folks

he was/is SUPER booked, I had my consultation in October and had to schedule surgery in June. this made me confident I made the right decision though because of how many people go to him, and having to be stuck in the body I didn’t want for a lot longer than I thought made me more eager to have it so I wasn’t as scared as I would have been otherwise. that being said, it might be smart to ask ahead how long the wait time is so that you can save during that time! because I didn’t know about the wait I had already had most of my money that I got together since last June so I could’ve had it about four months sooner, but hey everything worked out in the end :)

speaking of saving money, for this doctor there’s a $500 down payment that I paid when I went to the consultation visit (if you’re out of the area they can do consultation over email btw!) the rest was collected about a week and a half before surgery. I have a debit card so it had to be split up in three transactions. I’m very thankful they worked with me on that!

I went into a small room where the doctor met me, marked me up and took my picture. then he said the anesthesiologist would meet me, which she did in a few minutes and went over a bit of questions/paperwork and took me to the operating room!

I lied down on a table with my arms out, it felt like I was an alien getting vivisected, that combined with my needlephobia made that a bit scary but I’ve been waiting so long so it was exciting too. they had me hooked up to an IV but I think they did that while I was under because I felt the needle go in and then out. and then in a minute I was out!

I wasn’t aware of this because it was during the surgery but they have a machine to massage your legs to keep up circulation and I had a tube down my throat too. when I woke up the first thing I hear is “the surgery was a success!! :D” and it felt like a weird dream because of anesthesia but in what felt like a few minutes I was almost as awake as normal which was surprising because I was out of it for hours after getting wisdom teeth out so I thought this would be way worse in that way

I had three intense sensations when I woke up: nausea, tightness and hunger. they asked right away if I was nauseous and gave me an alcohol patch to put on my nose which immediately took the feeling completely away. I had a very specific craving for Burger King’s impossible whopper, I think that’s because of not being able to eat I wanted something substantial like meat (vegetarian so closest thing to it) and something QUICK because hungy

the tightness was pretty intense and unexpected, I felt desperate to rip off my surgical vest but they assured me it’s actually fairly loose. I think it’s just the incisions that give you a tight sensation but what you see and feel on your body is the vest so your brain says that’s the culprit I think. as time went on I ended up feeling desperate for the vest actually but I’ll go into that later

when I got the whopper I’m VERY thankful my dad who met us after picking it up also got the milkshake because I couldn’t produce saliva at all and didn’t know that would happen. I think that’s from having the tube in my mouth. I also could barely hold anything with my left hand because of that being the arm I had the IV in, but both the no saliva and limp left hand things went away in a few hours I think

by the time we got home which was I think an hour and a half after I woke up, I had really intense pain in my throat and under my armpits. the painkillers they gave me eventually kicked in about an hour or so after I took them, I’d suggest to bring them to surgery maybe if possible so you can take them asap, I think I wouldn’t have had that at all if I did, at that level of intensity anyway. for my throat I basically went nuts and drank water, had popsicles, ice cream, fruit, cough syrup, etc and it went away in 2-3 days or so

speaking of the pain under my armpits, that was from the tubes in me to drain extra unwanted blood and puss and stuff like that, it sounds super awful but I wasn’t allowed to remove the vest for five days and I’m naturally sweaty so I didn’t even know there were tubes in me or that I was draining until like four days later. I was stuffed with tons of gauze under the vest so eventually when I did notice the drainage we pulled out the dirty ones and pushed in some clean ones (they provide you with the same kind of gauze). the main awful thing about it was just the idea of having tubes in me, it didn’t bother me so much when I thought it was part of the incision haha...

now that I complained about the tube and throat pain I will say the “pain” for me of the actual incision area was almost nothing for me at all, just a bit of a weird tingly or pokey sensation every so often and that’s all really. but again everyone is different !

appetite was funny because it felt like I’d feel really hungry and eat hardly anything and feel good! another post suggested to have pineapple to help with bruising and I think it worked because I ate pineapple constantly and had pretty much no bruising at all

also I hope this isn’t too gross but I couldn’t pee and I was constipated. it wasn’t too much trouble because for the. pee I could just push and it’d come and for constipation that’s a problem that happens for me in general. both took about a week to wear off. they’re side effects of anesthesia I believe. other side effects I had from that were my legs and arms would feel pretty sore at times and my legs were wobbly, they said that I’d need to move my legs around a bit every once in a while to prevent clotting and I got a bit nervous about that so I ended up going for two walks a day! probably not needed to do that much but I think it helped speed up leg recovery

after that more intense pain was gone after just a few hours I felt fine to watch shows and play viddy games! I thought I’d be zonked out for days or something but I was pretty alert after just a few minutes of coming out like I said. I could’ve probably drawn or made plushies too but it just felt so weird to move my arms at that point and was probably for the best I didn’t and just watched stuff and played games and slept a lot. it felt a bit frustrating how boring it was at times after a week or so but I just focused on how much of my life I’ll feel good now because of this so the recovery time isn’t that bad knowing that

five days after the surgery I had my first post op appointment! this was for the doctor to inspect the incisions, give us ointment to put on the scars and more gauze, and to finally be able to throw away all of the gauze that was under the vest! at this point I was allowed to take off the vest to replace the gauze and put ointment on as well as shower, and was given bandaids to put on the tubes for showering. however the sensation of not having the vest on at this point was SO horrible to me, I felt like a doll that was being pulled and unraveled apart, it made me want to throw up too so I took a shower as fast as possible and then just opted to get my hair shampooed at salons every other day for a couple weeks, so in retrospect I could have not gone five days with no shampoo but nothing can go absolutely perfectly after all!

a couple days later I ran out of oxycodone and tried replacing it with motrin which gave me three vivid nightmares in a row of having really bad fights with my parents and friend over dumb things which sounds silly but it messed me up emotionally and I kept sobbing uncontrollably out of nowhere that I felt like such a burden to take care of. I thought I was just emotional from the surgery but as soon as I switched to tylenol that went away completely! I don’t think it’s that motrin is bad because I looked it up and it’s a rare side effect, it’s just either that my body specifically doesn’t like it or it was the way it was combined with the antibiotic I had

the second post op was to remove the tubes and it was 13 days after the first post op. they said if you live out of the area you can remove the tubes yourself so I’m very thankful we’re in the area haha. the left tube came out so smooth and quick that I didn’t feel it even come out at all! the second hurt for a second but I think because it kept getting bent backwards but it didn’t hurt too much. the tubes were SUPER wiggly and actually pretty flat so I think they’re constantly improving them to make them less and less noticeable.

I was told I had to use the bandaids on my holes for showering and keep gauze on them too for just two more days and I could also throw the vest away then. I still felt too sensitive to get rid of the vest yet and wore it for another week, I still have it in case I want it for now (been going without it for about three days at this point) it still feels very strange without it since it feels like it’s holding you together but I think no matter how healed you are it will a shock to your body to not have that on anymore...also the “holes” from the tubes are more like slits which just look like slightly more open areas of the incisions so it’s barely noticeable. there’s some swelling where that used to be but that’s going down!

now at this point where I’m at, I still feel best putting ointment on with gauze and bandage wraps I bought as a transition from the vest to nothing under the shirt which seems to be working pretty well! it might be that I’m autistic that I’m so sensitive to that feeling and had to have my vest on longer and now this instead of nothing. also I took three weeks off of work initially (I work a desk job) and asked for a couple more weeks of working from home before going back to the office to be able to adjust

also I will say if you live alone, I think you can handle surgery and taking care of yourself if you’re determined, as long as nothing you need to use to feed yourself and whatnot is up too high, too low, or too heavy. but if you can I’d highly suggest staying with someone who can help take care of you, it really helps easy the transition. in my summary I will say there was almost no pain at all but a whole lot of WEIRD stuff I wasn’t used to, but in the end it’s not a whole lot to deal with, considering!

#I hope this can help someone at all!! feel free to ask questions or anything!! take care

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byakuyasdarling · 3 years

Note

Hi!!!! For the ask game, how about dove, ivy and mushroom? I hope these are alright!! ^_^ <33

Ah, thank you for the ask!! And these are perfect, a great way to calm down <<333 I hope you’re doing well

All under the cut since I gush a lot about the wedding, ahaha

—————————————————

Dove — What kind of wedding would you and your F/O have?

Yes!!! I love this one ^//v//^

Byakuya would prefer to keep things small and rather private, however, it appears he’s going to get the opposite of what he would like. His family and S/I seem to want a large wedding (because you know, this is kinda massive for the Togami family, especially considering how famous they are. S/I’s Ultimate would also put her in the position to garner fame too). S/I is MASSIVE on family, and invites all members of her very large family too.

So it definitely seems like one of those royal weddings with no privacy at all (poor Byakuya <<333). Photos of the wedding will be leaked, and S/I’s dress will be judged harshly like in all those gossip magazines, hahaha.

It’s all very lavish. Definitely held in one of those really fancy venues. These images are in low resolution, but it’s the closest I can quickly find to how I think the venue would look!

Definitely a high ceiling venue, lots of white, black, and gold (which would be the theme colours for their wedding), however, the bridesmaids will have their dresses in wine red.

Bridesmaid dresses will probably be an A-line floor-length dress with a sweetheart neckline or one shoulder strap; made of chiffon.

Anyway, anyway!! Onto S/I’s dress (because I embarrassingly think about my own wedding dress a lot).

Definitely a ballgown/ princess dress in ivory for her; with either a sweetheart neckline or more of an off-the-shoulder look. I love having more confessed embroidery and the bodice and repeating those patterns on the trim of the skirt. It ensures everything harmonises and the dress only enhances the bride, instead of consuming her in fabric.

Byakuya though? I am unsure. I do image it would just be one of his many black tuxedos with a white dress shirt, but with gold buttons to match the theme and S/I’s jewellery colour. He would have a gold pocket square (they’re the little handkerchief things often in blazer’s outer pockets) to match S/I. Additionally, it’s definitely a neck tie day, S/I demands no crossover ties at her wedding lmao.

And finally, the centre pieces for each table:

In the following week or so, Byakuya finally gets the privacy with her he wanted. So in the end, he’s rather happy to just have her contently rested on him and he reads; comforted with the knowledge they’re safe and happily married. He gets a bit uncharacteristically mushy over the next few days. He doesn’t really say it, but it’s obvious that marrying her gave him so much joy that he didn’t even know he could still have.

Ivy - How do you take care of each other when you’re sick?

Aaahhh, this is actually a post that has been stuck in my drafts for a while since I have t fleshed it out enough, but I’ll give some brief points now!

Byakuya really would rather not to get ill, so while S/I is sick he won’t touch her very much. Fortunately, S/I absolutely refuses to be touched for a week while she is ill anyway. As part of taking care of her, he does gather any kind of medicinal product that he thinks will be beneficial to her. He also helps to ensure she’s eating and staying hydrated.

He will keep her company, though. He’ll do whatever he needs to on his laptop and try and read her to sleep. However, this can be futile, especially if S/I is getting shivers and muscle aches like she usually does. He really can’t stand her little cries. When she starts drifting off to sleep he (with heavy sanitising of the hands) will hold her hand as she drifts into sleep. He quietly watches her to ensure she drifts off peacefully.

Byakuya on the other hand, is a nightmare when he’s ill.

He tends to get illness a lot worse than other people. His frustration and bad temperament only gets worse towards people: such as his mother and butler who attempt to assist him. He isn’t bad with S/I though, being more tolerant and loving to her is rather natural for him.

Much to Byakuya’s disagreement from fear she’ll catch his cold, she becomes even more affectionate and touchy than usual. Every time he lets out even a slight grunt to imply pain, she’s already trying to put kisses all over his face. He doesn’t like to admit all the mushy kisses and snuggles do make him feel better.

She’ll keep offering to do all these things for him, but he attempts to ‘politely’ decline and says she’s making the best use of her energy being snuggled into him.

Since he’s in bed all day trying a slow recovery from a bad illness, he gets frustrated at how unproductive he is. His only comfort (in general as well) is S/I’s consistent and long-lasting affections she gives when he’s sick. He becomes very accustomed to it, and while he can’t focus well from his illness, he is much more likely to scoff and complain when she isn’t giving him as much love as he wants, lmao. Poor Grumpy Cat <<<333

Mushroom - Give a headcanon of your F/O

I’ve got to admit, to fill in a lot of holes, I have headcanonned Byakuya quite a bit, ahaha.

Byakuya absolutely despises playing video games.

I really can’t imagine him liking them, ahaha. Just kinda “unproductively wasting your time away”. S/I occasionally guilts him into a round of Mariokart, but he only joins very, very rarely, he’s pretty good at it though (like most things). However, he’s rather frustrated that he can’t beat S/I, otherwise known as “The Queen of Mariokart”, which can make him quit rather quick lmao. S/I’s joking ‘threat’ to people is: “You. Me. Mariokart. 200cc Rainbow Road. We’ll see who survives now.” So... take that as you will, ahahaha.

When reading, he does occasionally look over while she plays Pokémon though. While she was replaying Pokémon Platinum he “had the nerve” to ask why she reset her game when she saw her Piplup’s summary.

Long story short, she jokingly called him a novice remarking how:

“I could never play though this game with an Adamant Piplup. Empoleon’s Special Attack with a base of 109 is higher than its Attack stat of 90, and everyone knows an Adamant nature increases your Attack stat as you level, but lowers your Secial attack stat — which is counter productive, BYAKUYA.”

She is joking, don’t worry. She’s quick to apologise and give him kisses to make sure he isn’t too grumpy ^//v//^

Don’t get her started on IVs and EVs though. The former VGC player will reemerge and start rambling all day about “digital rats” (as Byakuya calls them).

———————————————————————

Again, thank you so much for the ask <<333 it’s a nice way to distract me for a good two and a half hours, ahahaha. It’s nice just to ramble about something / someone especially when I’m a little nervous about things. You’re so sweet, have an amazing day <<333

Anyone who is reading this now too: I hope you have a wonderful day 💙💙

#ship tag: book lovers ♡#long post #Andreagami

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yoddream · 4 years

Text

missing | z.cl

pairing: chenle x fem!reader

warnings: graphic depictions of violence, PTSD, heavy angst, fluff, blood, kidnapping, nightmares, suicidal thoughts

summary: chenle saw first-hand how it all affected you

word count: 8.4k

requested?: i think we all know the answer to this question.

a/n: idk why this idea had popped into my head, but it did. it sucks, especially the end. the end is clearly rushed. read at your own risk.

Something was off.

It didn’t take much for the Dreamies to notice. You were declining more of their offers to hang out, claiming you had to study. When you did hang out with them, you were closed off. You kept your distance from everyone, squirming out of hugs when they lasted more than a couple seconds. Your smile rarely reached your eyes, and it would take a few tries to catch your attention. Everyone was worried, but there was one person who was affected the most.

You and Chenle had quickly become friends when you first started as an intern for Dream’s manager. He pestered you until you had finally given in and talk to him, only to learn just how charming the orange-haired boy was. The others were wary at first—and rightfully so—but he managed to get them to trust you. Your internship had ended a couple months ago, but that didn’t stop them from asking for your company. Pulling away concerned them, but they didn’t know how to approach the situation.

When the missing-persons report on you became public, the world felt like it had stopped rotation on its axis. With the way you had been acting, they all thought the dame thing; you left because you were suicidal and didn’t want to be found. That would explain your behavior. You had thought it would lessen the pain. They, unfortunately, had to continue their concerts, but that didn’t stop Chenle.

“Czennies, as you know our good friend, Y/N, has gone missing. If any of you know anything, please tell the police. We’re very worried about her, and we just want her home safely.”

He was yelled at by their manager for that, but his friends thought it was a great idea, so they started doing it at every concert in hopes of something coming about that would help locate you, even if it was just to get closure.

“Nothing is working!” Chenle yelled after a concert in Busan.

“Chenle, it’s going to take some time,” Renjun said softly.

“They need to find her before she hurts herself! There’s over a 90% chance that they’ll be too late by the time she’s found!” the younger boy snapped.

“You have to accept the fact that they may not find her alive,” Haechan said bluntly.

“No! No, she can’t be dead. I can feel it,” he rambled.

“Hyung.” Chenle whipped around to face Jisung. His best friend never used honorifics with him. “Please. I’m worried about you.”

A couple hours later, Chenle was hold in his room back home, ignoring texts from other members of NCT. They thought he was crazy, but he just had hope. His world would crumble if they found your body. While he would never admit it to his groupmates, he loved you. Losing you would leave a whole in his heart that one else would ever be able to fill.

Nobody knew of his feelings for you. He made sure to hide them. He knew they would tease him whether you were there or not, so he didn’t have a choice. He wanted you to stay in his life, so his love for you was buried deep in his soul.

SM decided it was best to give Chenle a couple weeks to calm down and work on his mental health. He was losing sleep every night due to your disappearance, and they felt his insistence you were alive was the start of a breakdown. The press release was vague, stating he would take a short hiatus for his health, so he was ordered to stay home and leave his house discreetly whenever he was to go in public. He felt he was a disgrace to the company, and it only caused his depression to worsen. His phone laid ignored, notifications adding up with each passing minute.

“Chenle, honey? Your friends are here to see you,” his mother said one day.

He lifted his head from his pillow as the other Dreamies filed into his room. Jaemin was the first to hug him, whispering whatever he could think of in the younger boy’s ear. Then it was Jeno, who kept it short and sweet. Haechan was next, making sure his hug was extra tight. Renjun mumbled something in Chinese that caused the other boy to nod. When it was Jisung’s turn, he bravely pulled Chenle into his lap and hugged him. The comfort from it was what made the tears finally fall. Soon, Chenle was sobbing into his best friend’s neck, mumbling about how much he loved you. The others gasped in surprise, but Jisung just nodded.

“I know, Chenle. I know,” he whispered.

Of course Jisung knew, Chenle thought to himself. If anyone were to figure it out, it would be his best friend. He was nice enough to not acknowledge it until Chenle was ready to talk about it. They wouldn’t be best friends if they didn’t know everything about each other.

There was a giant sleepover that night. Chenle and his mother blew up a few air mattresses and laid them together to create one, giant bed. He was sandwiched between Jisung and Jaemin, tear stains on his cheeks as he fell into a restless sleep.

///

It was a rainy day when Chenle got the call. He was reading the theories on how you were related to his health on Twitter. The two-month mark had passed a few days before, so he was desperate to find something, anything that would somehow give him a lead as to where you were. His phone was vibrating with a call, but he ignored it. When it started up again, he groaned and declined, spotting Haechan’s contact that ran across the screen. When it rang a third time, this one from Jeno, he finally answered.

“Why are you guys blowing up my phone?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be at—”

“Chenle, they found her,” Jeno interrupted.

The younger boy’s heart stopped. “What?”

“They—they found Y/N. She’s alive.”

Chenle managed to get the hospital’s name out of Jeno before hanging up. He changed quickly and threw on a baseball cap before running all the way to the hospital, too impatient to wait for his family’s driver. He was out of breath by the time he reached the building, but that didn’t stop him from running up three flights of stairs to get to your room. He burst through the door and barely acknowledged your family and his friends, his eyes landing on you.

There were bruises and cuts all over your face and body, from what he could see. Rings of black and blue were painted on your wrists, indicating you’d been tied up. There was a handprint around your neck, which terrified him. Your face was swollen from being hit multiple times, a couple gashes on your eyebrow and cheek stitched up. Your left leg was in a cast, the top of it hitting just under your knee, and your dominant arm was in a sling. He sneakers squeaked as he took a couple steps forward from the water that was soaking his clothes and skin. He noticed you were asleep, so he stopped in his tracks.

“What happened?” he finally asked.

“A few fans called in tips that would lead to her location. They found her in an empty warehouse a couple hours away,” your mother explained. “They know she was kidnapped, but they don’t have anyone arrested yet.”

“Do they think whoever took her will be back to the warehouse?” Haechan questioned.

Your father shook his head. “From what they could see, she was abandoned. She’s very lucky to be alive.”

A couple nurses walked in at that time to run some tests, dismissing everyone temporarily. Chenle watched through the window as your chest rose and fell with each breath you took. He was so happy that you were alive, even if you were as beat up as you were. He knew your recovery would be very long, but he promised himself he would be by your side very step of the way, even when the physical injuries were healed.

The next day, Chenle found out you were in a medically-induced coma to help with the swelling in your brain. They were going to keep you under for another day before weaning you off the medication. He sat with you for a couple hours before deciding to head out with the other Dreamies for lunch, knowing there was nothing he could do at the hospital except stare at you until visiting hours were over.

The Dreamies could see that his smile was getting closer to reaching his eyes. It would take you waking up and talking to him for him to be happy again, but he was a step further than yesterday, and that was what mattered.

///

Chenle wasn’t there when you eventually woke up. That would be too predictable. You came to around three in the morning, and the bright lights scared you. Without knowing your new environment, a bloodcurdling scream left your throat in hopes of somebody hearing you and calling for help. A door nearby flew open, and there were multiple footsteps that raced towards you. You continued screaming as you fought against their grasp. The figures above you were blurry, but they seemed to be wearing scrubs. You feared you were in some sort of lab, even though that seemed unlikely.

“Y/N, it’s okay! It’s okay, you’re in Seoul! You’re in the hospital in Seoul!” That sounded like your mother, but you could be hallucinating.

“Let me go! Let me go!” you screamed. “Mom! Dad!”

“We’re here! We’re here, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t tell if your body melted at the nickname or some sort of drug. Either way, you stopped fighting, and you quickly lost consciousness again.

When you woke once more, you could see better. You were in a hospital room, with an IV connected to your arm. There were flowers on a table nearby, and balloons tied to a chair in the corner. You knew the balloons were from Haechan; he probably popped one or two on the way there to scare Renjun. The thought of it made you chuckle to yourself, but you winced at the pull of your throat.

The door opened, and your parents stared in shock at you sitting in bed, eyes opened and completely calm. Then, your mother burst into tears and rushed forward to hug you. You tried not to groan at the impact, but your whole body was screaming in pain. She pulled back and apologized profusely, your father pulling her towards him with an arm around her shoulders.

“We’re so glad you’re okay,” he said. “We were so worried when you didn’t come home from work.”

“How long have I been here?” you said. Your voice was very scratchy, but you knew it would be a while before it was completely back to normal.

“A few days. They had to put you in a coma to help with your injuries,” your mom explained. “Oh, the boys will be so happy to see you’re awake!”

“I don’t want to see them,” you stated quietly.

Your parents frowned, but the doctor walked in before anything could be said. You were run through tests to check your mobility and memory. Your memory seemed mostly fine, and the mobility in your left arm was limited from having your shoulder dislocated. Everything seemed fine, physically.

A couple hours passed where you sat in silence, staring at the wall in front of you. You didn’t know how long you were stuck like that until a nurse shook you lightly. When you looked over, she had a clipboard in her hand, and her brows were furrowed. You wondered how long it took her to catch your attention, but that thought quickly left your mind.

You were aware of time passing, but couldn’t keep track of exactly how much. The room got dark as day turned to night, and your parents headed home to sleep with the promise of visiting as soon as they were allowed. A kiss was pressed to your hair by your father before the door closed, and suddenly the company went from three to one.

With nothing to distract you, all that ran through your mind were thoughts of your captivity. The bright lamp on your face, the dry air, the ropes as they cut into your skin from being tied too tight; it was painful to think about, but you couldn’t stop. You thought of the hands that wrapped tightly around your neck, the fists that pummeled your face, the boots that broke your ribs.

A hand on your arm snapped you out of the hole you were spiraling down in your head. You looked up and found a familiar pair of eyes on you. Your brain acknowledged the hand that seemed to knows what its touch could do to you, as it had pulled away.

“Hey bud. How you feelin’?” Haechan asked.

Looking around, you noticed that all the Dreamies were there. You shrugged and muttered a “fine,” that you knew none of them would believe, but you didn’t have it in you to care. Chenle was in the chair beside you, wringing his hands. You knew there were so many questions that were on the tip of his tongue, and that he was doing everything he could to hold them back.

Jaemin took it upon himself to start a conversation with Jisung and Chenle about their next video. It relieved some of the tension in the air, making it more breathable. The words went in one ear and out the other, but not having the feeling of everyone’s attention on you was like taking a sip of cold water after being in the heat for so long with nothing to drink.

The door opened, and two men in suits stepped in. All conversation halted at the sight of new company. They introduced themselves as the detectives that were working on your case, and they were there to question you. Everyone started to leave, but your hand shot out to grab Chenle’s wrist. Your eyes were trained on the wall, but you asked him to stay. He looked to the detectives, who nodded, and he sat back down. The door closed quietly as the rest of the Dreamies left.

///

Jaemin was pacing back and forth as they waited for the questioning to end. Not being able to see you when you’d been gone for so long felt like torture. He wanted to baby you like you were Jisung, cook you food and tuck you into bed. He wanted to cherish those moments with you. He always cherished every second he spent with the people he loved, but almost having your presence taken away permanently fueled the fire.

The door opened suddenly, and the detectives walked out. Chenle followed with shaky legs. His face was white, and he looked horrified. The Dreamies rushed forward to check on him.

“What happened? What’d she tell them?” Renjun questioned.

Chenle looked at them. “She was kidnapped by sasaengs.”

Nobody said anything, nobody moved, not one person took a breath for ten seconds. It was known that sasaengs would go to incredible lengths to get what they wanted, but kidnapping their friend? What did they gain from it?

“Somebody got her phone number, and they were texting and calling, telling her that she didn’t deserve to be our friend, that we didn’t care about her, we hated her, and that she was nothing,” Chenle continued. “They did everything they could to knock her down, and when it wasn’t enough, they kidnapped her in hopes that we would forget, that we wouldn’t care. She thought she was going to die. They actually talked about killing her.”

“Oh my god,” Jeno mumbled.

“How the hell has she not shut down?” Haechan asked.

It was a question that not even you could answer. You had dreams of standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the ground that was hundreds of feet away. You so desperately wanted to take that step forward and feel the air rush through your hair as you plummeted to the ground, but dreams were difficult to control. Sometimes, you wished the dream was real so you could take that step.

A couple days later, you were alone in your hospital room. Your parents had gone back to work when they realized you wouldn’t be talking to them anytime soon. The Dreamies would visit when they could, but they still had to practice for their concerts. The others stood at a distance, wanting to give you the space you needed, but Chenle stuck by your side, sometimes playing with your fingers when you weren’t as tense. They would try to get you to talk, but when you didn’t, they started conversations amongst themselves, not wanting to push you past your limit. You knew they felt guilty for what had happened to you, but there was no reason for them to. You wanted to tell them so, but a small part of you couldn’t help but hate them for what you went through. It wasn’t their fault, but if you’d stopped being friends with them after your internship, you wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed.

It was a windy day when you were discharged. Your parents brought you home, their bodies practically vibrating with excitement. When you were brought to your room, you could see how they’d kept everything in place. There wasn’t a single speck of dust, and your sheets were changed. Everything else looked the same as the last time you’d seen it.

“Just let us know if you need anything, sweetheart,” your mother said before shutting your door quietly.

Even though the car ride was fairly short, you were still exhausted. Hitting as many bumps as you had, your whole body ached, and you’d taken a couple pain pills when you arrived home, so they were kicking in fairly quickly. Your movements were lethargic, and soon your eyes were closing.

The sky was cloudy as you stood at the edge of the cliff. You looked down and spotted an ocean, which was different from the usual view. There was a feeling of calm that had settled over you as you watched the waves. The sounds of the water crashing against the rocks, the smell of the salt of the sea, and the wind that caressed your face.

Suddenly, an unknown force pushed you off the cliff. You opened your mouth to scream, but nothing came out. You looked back to see a figure without a face, their features blurred out. You looked to the water and finally let out a scream as your body was getting closer to hitting the water. Just a few more feet—

You woke up with a start. Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath, and your while body was covered in sweat. Looking out the window, you noticed that the sun was much higher in the sky than it was when you’d fallen asleep, which meant you slept a few hours. There was another presence in the room, but you were afraid to see who it was. Was it one of your parents? One of the Dreamies? Or was it one of your kidnappers, back to take you away again?

“I was wondering when you’d wake up,” Chenle stated. “I was getting lonely.”

You rolled over and stared at the boy, unable to do or say anything. He was sitting at your desk, and in his hand was a snow globe he’d gotten for you when he and Jisung went to Shanghai. Shaking it, he placed it on your desk again before turning his full attention to you. There was a smile on his face, but even from far away, you could tell it didn’t reach his eyes. He was worried about you, and it was difficult for him to hide.

“I brought you some applesauce,” he offered. “I know you’re still having trouble eating solid foods, so I figured this would help.”

You noticed the small cup that was on the desk, a spoon laying over its seal. You tried to sit up, but it was difficult with your injuries. Chenle stood to help you, but his hands hesitated, worried he would upset you if he touched. You nodded slightly, and that was all he needed. You were soon sitting up in your bed, a pillow supporting your back. You reached out for the applesauce, but he held it away.

“You won’t be able to eat it without getting it everywhere,” he said, gesturing to the sling.

You watched as he opened the applesauce and scooped some onto the spoon before guiding it to your mouth. The two of you sat in silence as he fed you slowly, making sure you felt okay enough to take another bite. Once it was all gone, he placed a glass of water by your mouth, a straw poking at your lips. You glared at him, but it didn’t faze him. Sighing, you leaned forward and drank some of the water, thankful for its cool feeling sliding down your dry throat.

Chenle took his spot at your desk and said, “You would not believe what I had to do to stop the others from coming with me. I told them that you would probably be overwhelmed, so they made me promise to let them know when it was okay to visit. Of course, I didn’t know if it was okay, but I wanted to take the chance. Since you’re not screaming at me to leave, I’m guessing I’m allowed to visit. Maybe I’m wrong, and I wouldn’t blame you. I know I’m a lot, and my personality makes it seem like there are two or three people in the room. Honestly, I don’t get how anyone puts up with me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that last part. Is that how he felt about himself? Did he really think he was too much for people? He lit up your world, but you didn’t have a way to tell him. You couldn’t find it in you to speak to anyone. Your voice had sounded so foreign when the detectives were questioning you, and it was scary. Something that’d been hearing your whole life suddenly didn’t sound like you. Would that ever change? Would you ever get better?

“Anyways,” Chenle continued, “I should probably get going. You need to rest as much as possible.”

“Stay,” left your mouth before you could stop it.

He froze, halfway risen from his seat. Slowly, he sat down and watched as you averted your gaze, suddenly shy. You hadn’t acted this way since the beginning of your internship, but things were different now, and Chenle had to accept that. He had to accept that it would take time for you to get better, and that you may never be the same again.

You watched as he stayed on the other side of the room, going back and forth between playing games on his phone and watching videos on YouTube. Not once did he text somebody, and you wondered why. If anything, you expected him to give the others constant updates. Something in you warmed at the thought of him keeping everything between the two of you. You knew how hard it was for him to keep things from them, especially when he felt it was important.

As the sun traveled across the sky, you watched Chenle fuck around on his phone, glancing to you every once in a while. Every time he did, there would be a soft smile on his face, and he would quickly turn his attention back to the screen. Soon, it was dark out, and he left your room without a word. Part of you wondered if he’d left, but the rest of you didn’t really care. However, your question was answered a few minutes later when he walked in with a bowl of tomato soup. He has a tray that you’ve seen your dad use for your mom on her birthday every year. You watched as he placed the legs around your thighs.

“It’s close enough so that if you spill any, it’ll get either in the bowl or on the tray,” he told you when you stared at it. “I know that you hate being fed, that it makes you feel useless. It’s all over your face whenever you eat.”

It was like he was reading your mind. This was why Chenle was your best friend; he knew whatever you were thinking, answered questions that were never asked aloud, and gave you whatever you needed before you even knew yourself. He knew you better than anyone, even your own parents.

You picked up the spoon, but it fell from your weak grip. Chenle noticed right away and sat on the edge of your bed. Grabbing the spoon, he started to feed you the soup, even going as far as patting at your mouth with a napkin. You felt like a child in a high chair, even if he wasn’t babying you. The whole thing was embarrassing, and you wished you could disappear.

The moment reminded you of when Chenle had the flu. He refused to eat or drink anything, unable to keep it down. Of course, the other Dreamies were giving him heavy food like dumplings and japchae, when he really needed some soup and a sports drink to help with his dehydration. You were called in the middle of the night and rushed to the nearest convenience store to pick up a few things before arriving at the dorms. You became his caretaker for a week, feeding him when his body felt too weak, and making sure he drank nothing but Gatorade and water.

Once everything was gone, Chenle told you he was leaving and brought the dirty dishes downstairs. You stared at the doorway, listening to him clean everything before bidding your parents goodbye. When the front door closed, your eyes landed on the desk chair that suddenly seemed emptier than it was.

///

The ropes around your wrists cut into your skin, leaving it red and raw. No matter how hard you tried to keep your hands still, you couldn’t help but shift to feel some sense of comfort, even though it seemed pointless since you’d been sitting in the same spot for two weeks. Your clothes reeked of every time you had to relieve yourself, but they wouldn’t let you use some sort of bathroom, even when you suggested someone going with you so that they knew you wouldn’t run away.

A bright lamp was kept on you at all times, making it difficult for you to get any rest. Every time you closed your eyes, it was too bright to sleep, and it wasn’t like you would get much, anyway. The images behind your lids were far too frightening.

A door slammed open somewhere behind you, and you flinched at the sound. Multiple sets of footsteps grew louder as your kidnappers got closer, and you braced yourself for whatever they had in store for you. However, it still surprised you when a hand was suddenly wrapped around your throat, squeezing tight enough to cut off your air supply. A phone was shoved in your face, but you couldn’t see what was on it, for your vision was getting spotty as your body craved for oxygen.

You awoke with a gasp, desperate to get air in your lungs. It wasn’t a dream; it was a memory. It was one of many that haunted you every time you passed out from exhaustion. You tried not to sleep, for you knew what was waiting for you once you were in a deep slumber.

Looking around, you found your phone sitting on the nightstand. The screen was cracked, but it still worked, so it was plugged into the charger. You picked it up and looked up what you remember the person hissing in your face. What came up were articles and videos of various NCT Dream concerts. You clicked on a video and waited for it to load. What played shocked you.

The boys were on stage, and their faces were serious. Haechan was begging the fans to go to the police with information on your disappearance if they had any. When you clicked on a different video, it was Renjun doing the exact same thing. They had used their platform to look for you, and it seemed to work, considering you were lying in your bed instead of in a casket.

It was only a little past two in the morning, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. Suddenly, your phone vibrated with a text. You looked down and froze at the message that was on the screen.

Unknown number: Don’t think this is over. We know where you live.

Scared, you shut your phone off and threw it, unaware of where it landed. You were unsure if they actually knew where your home was located, but you weren’t taking any chances. A voice in the back of your mind screamed to tell somebody about the text, but you just wanted it all to disappear. If it disappeared, maybe the memories would, too.

Chenle knocked on your door before poking his head in. He smiled when you looked over, and it didn’t falter when you didn’t smile back. His heart swelled at the sight of you lying in bed, safe. The bruises on your face were fading, and the cuts were starting to turn into brown scabs. The sling would be able to come off in another week, and then you would be starting some PT exercises. Chenle already promised your parents that he would go to the appointments with you, but what he didn’t tell them was that he was paying for it all. He’d already paid the hospital bill, not wanting them to worry about it. Almost losing you was enough stress.

“Hey! Have you eaten yet?” he asked. When you didn’t answer, he placed his bag by the end of your bed. “Let me get some toast and tea for you.”

Rushing downstairs, he moved around the kitchen to make some breakfast for you. Your mother watched as he worked, admiring how he made everything quickly yet exactly how you liked it. He spread the jam lightly before grabbing the plate and mug and rushing back upstairs.

It felt weird, feeding you toast, but Chenle wouldn’t trade it for the world. Watching you eat and wiping extra jam from your mouth was so much better than you doing it all yourself. You were slowly gaining some strength back after having eaten proper meals, but he knew your arm got tired, especially when it wasn’t your dominant one. He liked taking care of you, even if you looked like you hated every second of it.

Chenle sat at your desk and took his phone out to watch a video. As he was searching through his suggestions, he noticed you were staring at the wall across from your bed. Without a word, he turned on the TV and connected his phone to it. He opened Netflix and put on your favorite movie before sitting back in the chair. Your eyes flitted to him, face unreadable. He simply smiled to you before paying attention to the TV screen.

Near the end of the movie, Chenle looked over and noticed you were asleep. Your chin was to your chest, and your breaths were slow. It looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t have the heart to wake you. He’d noticed the dark circles that seemed to be tattooed to your skin, so seeing you get the rest you needed warmed his heart.

Naturally, it didn’t last long. He watched as your face twisted into something, and small whimpers left your mouth. Standing up, he walked to your bed and gently sat down, not wanting to scare you. Suddenly, you gasped awake. Your eyes were wide, and tears were streaming down your cheeks. You looked around, and that’s when it hit him.

Fear. Fear was the something on your face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “You’re safe now. It’s gonna be okay.”

A sob escaped your lips, and you leaned to the side. When your shoulder hit Chenle’s chest, he didn’t hesitate to hold you as you cried. Your whole body was shaking as anxiety filled your lungs, imitating the feeling of drowning. He rubbed your back to help soothe you, knowing that that was all he could really do.

///

The day you were able to take your sling off, Chenle brought a homemade cake to celebrate. He told you that he made it with the other Dreamies (Jeno strictly decorated) and that they missed you. You wished they could visit, but they couldn’t see you like that. Chenle shouldn’t have, but he always marched to the beat of his own drum. He didn’t hesitate to feed you a small slice of cake, making sure you were okay and full before eating his own.

It was late when a yawn left Chenle’s mouth. He looked at the time on his phone and groaned, announcing he was going to call the family driver to pick him up. You opened your mouth before you could think.

“Sleep here.”

Suddenly wide awake, your best friend looked to you with wide eyes. “What? No, wait, I heard you. I’m just—are you sure?”

You nodded. He left to grab the air mattress he knew was stored in the linen closet. As he was setting it up, you father poked his head, smiling at the scene before him before wishing you two a good night. You winced at the sound of the pump starting up, the sound cutting through the previously-silent air. Chenle sent a sheepish grin your way before running out the room again. When he returned, a pile of sheets and blankets sat in his arms. He worked quickly to set up his bed before opening the bottom drawer of your dresser. The bottom drawer was unofficially his, for he had stayed over countless times.

Once the lights were out and Chenle was settled, he noticed just how quiet your room got at night. The two of you usually talked yourselves to sleep whenever he slept over, but clearly things were different. The window was cracked open, letting the chirping of the crickets float into the room. He could see a couple fireflies on the screen, flickering every few seconds.

A pillow hit his face, and he squawked while flailing. Pulling it away from his face, he saw you turn away from him. He placed the pillow under his head, sighing at the support for his skull and neck. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, dreaming of riding bikes with you alongside a field of flowers.

It felt like only a few seconds had passed when he was woken up. He looked around for whatever disturbed his sleep. A whimper coming from your bed had his head whipping around to look at you. The covers were pulled over your head, and he could hear you sniffling as you tried not to cry too loudly. Quietly, he stood and slowly pulled the comforter from your head. Your eyes were red and shining with tears that seemed to go on forever. He sat down and started to run his fingers through your hair, feeling like there was something more he should be doing, but he didn’t know what.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He felt you shake your head. “Okay.”

You didn’t fall back asleep, but you calmed down enough for Chenle to head to bed again. Your arm hung over the edge of the bed, so he grabbed your hand and held onto it as he started to fall asleep. You felt his grip loosen as he got closer and closer to dreamland, so you let go. He whined in his sleep, but it was forgotten quickly.

Throughout the night, your eyes stayed on Chenle’s sleeping form, studying how the muscles in his face were so relaxed. Your face hadn’t looked like that since before everything that had happened. You craved to be able to be that vulnerable again, to have that feeling of nothing upsetting you. You wanted to feel safe in your own bed.

It was around eight or nine when Chenle finally woke up. He turned over and froze when his eyes met yours. You looked even more exhausted than before, and that worried him. Sitting up, he asked, “You didn’t go back to sleep, huh?”

You shook your head. He didn’t push for an explanation, but you gave one, anyway. “I’m scared.”

“Huh?”

“I’m scared to sleep.”

“Do you have nightmares every night?” You nodded. He got up and sat on the bed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Well, I will be there every time you have one, so that when you’re scared, you won’t be alone. I just want you to get some rest.”

“Do you think they’ll go away?” you questioned.

He looked down to you with a sad smile. “Not completely, but I think with time, they’ll be less frequent.”

For the rest of the day, you sat in silence as you watched one of Chenle’s favorite movies. He was sitting in an armchair that sat in the corner of the room, curled into a ball with a blanket thrown around his shoulders. He looked so soft, and a part of you yearned for his touch, for him to hang off you like he’d done in the past countless times, but the two of you knew that it would be a long time before you were comfortable with that kind of affection.

///

You so desperately wished that you were living a fan-fiction life, where Chenle’s presence made all the nightmares suddenly disappear, but that would never be the case. The harsh reality was that you were traumatized, and you would be reliving those memories until the day you died.

It were getting easier at hiding the nightmares from Chenle. He thought you were getting them every other night, when you were really muffling your heavy breathing and whimpers on the nights he thought you were free of dreaming of your captivity. Those nights were the hardest, but he could never find out. You didn’t want to disappoint him.

There was one question you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how to bring it up. He was always so happy to see you, and you felt like the question could drive him away, no matter how innocent it was. Chenle could tell that something else was on your mind, but he didn’t want to push it for he feared he would also push you away.

It had been so long since the two of you felt you couldn’t talk about something. It was unnerving, thinking about how there was something that was getting between you and your best friend. It got so bad that you finally asked him once the lights were off.

“How are you able to stay here so much?”

Chenle looked to you from the air mattress. You were peeking over the side of your bed, the bottom of your face hidden. The moon was shining through the window, giving your skin a soft glow. He wanted to take a picture of you, to capture your beauty.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Management placed me on hiatus. They felt I needed a mental-health break.”

There was a short pause. “Is it because of the concerts?”

His cheeks heated up, but it was luckily covered by the darkness. “You know about that?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I had a nightmare about when they found out, so I looked it up.” Another heavy pause. “Thank you. For doing that, I mean.”

A small smile appeared on Chenle’s face. “Anything for you.”

The two of you fell asleep shortly after, and when you woke up from yet another nightmare, he held you a little tighter. It didn’t do much, but the both of you still needed it.

The next morning, Chenle was cleaning your room while you showered. Clothes littered the floor, so he was putting them in your hamper. A flash caught his eye, so he looked around and found your phone. Why is this over here? He pressed the power button and waited for it to turn on. Suddenly, it was buzzing with notifications of unread texts and missed calls, all unknown numbers.

Unknown number: Stay away

We’ll make sure they’ll never see you again

We will find you, just like we did last time

Say goodbye to your parents

“What are you doing?”

Chenle whipped around, eyes wide with shock. You were in clothes from his drawer, water dripping onto the white cotton of your t-shirt. You were leaning heavily on your crutches, obviously tired from moving around so much.

“I, uh—”

Your eyes grew wide with panic once they landed on what he held in his hands. “Shut it off.”

“What? No, Y/N—”

“Shut it off, Chenle.”

“But—”

“They’re tracking me, shut it off!”

Chenle scrambled with the power button before finally turning off your phone. Dropping it to the floor, he looked to you and asked, “What the hell was that?”

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled.

“Don’t lie to me.” You flinched at his tone, and his face immediately softened. “Y/N, I’ve never lost my patience with you since we met. Please don’t change that now.”

Sighing, you said, “A few months before I was abducted, I was getting phone calls and texts from sasaengs, telling me to stay away from you guys, that I was pathetic, you guys pitied me, whatever they could think of. I don’t know how they got my number, but I wasn’t too worried about what they told me. I thought they would’ve stopped once I was found, but it started up the night after I came home. They said they know where I live.”

“We’ve got to take this to the police,” he stated.

“No.”

“Y/N, this is your life we’re talking about.”

“I don’t want to go to the police.”

“Why not? This could help your case!”

“I just want it to disappear!”

You rocked forward on your crutches, but Chenle managed to catch you in time. You sobbed loudly into his shoulder, the emotions finally spilling over from holding them in for so long. His heart ached at how broken you sounded. He held you as tight as possible, wanting so badly for you to feel safe in his arms.

“I d-don’t want to deal with it. I j-just want it all g-gone,” you wailed.

“I know. I know, love bug, but they need to pay for what they’ve done to you,” he explained. “Look, we’ll bring it to the police, and if we need to, we’ll get you a new phone.”

You sniffled. “Haven’t heard you call me ‘love bug’ in a while.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll make sure to use it more.”

When Chenle finally convinced you to take your phone to the police, they found out within a couple days that the kidnappers had tracked you through your iCloud. Wanting to play it safe, Chenle got you a brand-new phone under his account and helped you write down all the contacts that you wanted to save. He refused to let you pay for anything, telling you not to worry about it.

That night, Chenle slept in your bed with you. When you had a nightmare, all he had to do was reach the few inches to grab you; it was much easier than him stumbling on the air mattress. You were on the cliff again, but when you looked back after being pushed, your eyes had landed on Chenle’s face. You knew it was only a dream, but a part of you still wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Even after you’d calmed down, he didn’t let you go. It felt nice, being held. The warmth from his body seeped into your skin, and you could feel yourself falling back asleep. You tried so hard to stay awake, but then Chenle pressed a kiss to your forehead with a mumbled, “sleep, love bug,” and you didn’t want to disappoint him.

With an undercover-cop car stationed outside your house, the air seemed a little lighter. Your parents weren’t checking on you as much, seeming to feel more comfortable with leaving you alone. Chenle was still staying at your house, not having left even once. You wondered how he wasn’t getting cabin fever like you. He hadn’t gone anywhere since you told him he could sleep over. His drawer was luckily filled with enough clothing to last a little over a week, so it wasn’t too bad.

Chenle was able to convince you to contact the others. It started out with a FaceTime call that ended up with you in tears and the Dreamies panicking, but you assured them that it was just because you really missed them, and then they ended up crying. Jaemin and Haechan were, obviously, playing it up and acting like they hadn’t seen you in years. Jisung had Jaemin draped over him, and he tried to act pissed, but you knew that the older boy was actually comforting the maknae.

When your cast was finally taken off, the first thing Chenle did was take you to the park—after getting permission from the officers, of course. There was still a boot on your leg, but you were able to walk around. He pushed you on the swings for a while before something caught his attention. You watched him walk a few feet, bend down, and grab a flower that was growing by a tree. When he came back, he placed it behind your ear and smiled.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled.

You weren’t like the other Dreamies; you knew Chenle was in love with you. He tried to hide it, but the look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. You loved him too, but the problem was how different your lives were. Being friends with the guys and even knowing the rest of NCT was unbelievable enough, but your best friend also returning the feelings you’d had since you met him? You were intimidated, to say the least.

It didn’t help that he’d confessed to you the first time he was drunk. You were the only one that remembered, though.

///

Chenle was in the shower when he heard a loud thump. Worried that you’d fallen, he hopped out and put on his clothes quickly, not even bothering to dry off. He was about to call out your name when there was a voice he didn’t recognize. Creeping down the hallway, he peeked through the crack in the doorway and froze when he saw the gun. It was pointed directly at you, and your hands were up as the girl in front of you rambled. He heard his name a few times, but her Korean was too fast for him to comprehend. He continued down the hallway and entered another room, flicking the lights rapidly for the officers outside. He heard car doors close, so he sneaked back to your room.

“Just do it,” he heard you state. “Fucking kill me. Add murder to your charges.

“Do you really think you’ll get me to doubt myself?” the girl asked.

“Did you not hear what I fucking said?” you snapped. “Kill me! I’d rather be dead than deal with the trauma you and your idiot friends gave me for the rest of my goddamn life! Go and pull that fucking trigger. The guys will mourn me for who knows how long. Is that what you want? To cause them pain? Do you want to be the reason why they won’t want to work on anything?”

“Shut up.”

The cops were down the hall, but Chenle wouldn’t move from his spot. “You don’t get it, do you? What makes you think this will solve anything? Kidnapping me did nothing. They still cared about me. They fucking looked for me. Getting rid of me will do nothing but make them hate you even more than they already do. You’ve got nothing to lose, right? You’ll be going to jail, anyway. So, pull the fucking trigger and end it all.”

Chenle’s heart seized at the words that were spewing from your mouth. Did you really feel that way? He knew you were struggling really badly, but did you really want to die?

The next few seconds were an absolute blur. The police pushed past him and managed to get the girl to surrender. As soon as she was in handcuffs, Chenle rushed forward and threw his arms around you. You started sobbing into his shoulder, but it felt like you could finally breathe.

“Please tell me you didn’t mean any of that,” he mumbled.

You shook your head. “No. I don’t wanna die.”

When you pulled away, Chenle placed a hand on your cheek. He wanted to look at your face and make sure you were telling the truth. However, a noise was swallowed by you when you surged forward and pressed your lips against his. He was taken by surprise, but it didn’t take long for his brain to catch up. His heart fluttered when you stepped back with flushed cheeks.

“What—” he started.

“I’m tired of being scared, okay?” You looked him in the eyes and smiled. “I love you. Like, a lot. And I know you love me. I was scared of starting anything with you because of how popular are and how the fans reacted when we were just friends, but my life has been on the verge of ending too many times, and I can’t live without taking this chance.”

Chenle’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally asked in a small voice, “You love me?”

You nodded. “How could I not?”

Grinning, he threw his arms around you and laughed, ignoring the detective that walked in to question the two of you. It wouldn’t be easy, being in a relationship with Chenle with the trauma that you had from his sasaengs, but his love outshined your fear, and you were willing to take that leap of faith from the cliff with him, hoping your landing would be easy. With him, anything was.

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milkywaydrabbles · 4 years

Text

Together we will Live Forever

So this is my first commissioned piece, and the first thing I’m posting on my new Tumblr! I’m hoping to get a lot of prompts and drabble requests along the days but I’ll start with this!!! Hope everyone enjoys!

“Here… here! They’re over here!”

Sounds muffled, dust flew in their lungs, making it harder to breathe. Their eyes were glossed over, red and puffy. They can hardly remember why they’d been crying. It felt like years since they last saw sunlight, those damn ugly fluorescent lights burning their retinas day in and day out.

In reality, it’s only been about six months since the kidnapping. Though, they could be wrong with the time. They never left the basement. They never saw the sun. But hearing someone else’s — anyone else’s — voice that wasn’t part of the League of Villains was a miracle on its own. But this voice kept getting closer, and sounded more and more desperate with each call. Then multiple voices came.

They opened their eyes a bit wider, blinking away the burning sensation that they felt with the strain. Then they saw the faces of the voices.

There were heroes here .

After so long, after continuous torment and torture and sleepless nights there were finally heroes . They could have sobbed then, if their throat weren’t so raw from the strain. Physically exhausted, they didn’t even move, just prayed that the heroes would pick them up and take them away from all of this.

“Hey, stay with me honey—we’re gonna get you out of here okay?” They heard a female voice speak out. Sounded slightly familiar, Midnight, they thought. Didn’t matter right now. She reached out to touch them, noticing the immediate reaction was to flinch away and shield themselves with their lacerated arms. The female hero gasped, looking at the dirtied and infected lesions on the skin.

“Oh my god,” she gasped again, mostly to herself, before turning around and yelling out again. “ We need a medic! ”

They didn’t remember much after that moment, just more seemingly encouraging words amongst the chaos happening around the two of them. Then they nodded. There was a question there somewhere but they didn’t remember what it was. Maybe it was just habitual, with all the times the villains would ask them if they would be good and heal them .

Then it was black.

The next time they woke was a week later, hooked up to some IV drips in their arms and a breathing tube strung down their nose. Panic rose quickly, knowing the feeling of needles in their veins to keep them barely alive all too well. Bile rose with it, biting back the stomach acid that was boiling up their throat was difficult. The only thing that brought them slightly down from the extreme anxiety attack that was seconds away were the bandages that practically held their arms together. That was barely enough to keep them grounded to reality.

The league would never take the time to make sure the arms were covered . Ever anxious and ever suspicious, their guard was held high.

Then a man spoke in the room.

“You’re awake.” A very obvious observation, but necessary to bring the attention to him. Seemed as if he were there for the entire spectacle. He would have stepped in, if he saw their panic get worse than it was. But this situation was very delicate, he knew this. Six months filled with trauma and pain was enough to send a civilian into a frenzy immediately. Slightly surprised they were able to stop yourself before screaming into the void, he questioned them. “Are you okay?”

No, no no no nononono —

“Yes… I’m—”

Hurting, and scared, and always in pain. Not trusting of you, but it hurts so much. Please, please stop the pain please make it go away please help me please please pleasepleaseplease —

“—fine.”

That was a lie. They knew it as well as he did. But he wouldn’t comment on it. Whatever made them feel most comfortable. The man gave them a minute to recollect their thoughts, and calm themselves as best they could before continuing.

“My name is Aizawa Shouta, hero name Eraserhead. You were rescued a few days ago from the League of Villains.” He paused for a moment, seemingly uncomfortable at the thought. “You are currently in the Musutafu general hospital. Do you… have any recollection of your last six months?”

So it was half a year. They sat there for a moment, reliving every memory their brain brought up. They remembered everything, down to the gut retching stench in the foul basement they were placed in. The details would haunt them. Their face dulled, eyes losing focus. They were being pulled into a pit of darkness as the memories came back. He saw that.

Their face twisted into one of pain, feeling the lacerations on their arms throb with the memory. How they were forced to use their quirk, even though it wasn’t nearly strong enough to do what they needed to be done due to malnutrition and lack of sleep. How, day in and day out, there were different thugs brought to them with all kinds of wounds—from some fresh blood still sticking to their flesh, to others who had clearly waited much too long to get it looked at and now had pus mixing with whatever bodily fluid dried and crusted over.

They remember how, no matter how many times they yelled and screamed and sobbed, no one came. How their arms at one point felt like they would rip right off, and how they had to switch from injuring their own arms to their legs just to save themselves from mutilating their limbs to the point of amputation.

They remembered the mocking tones of all the villains that would come through, and how they would leave them alone only because they were so disgusted with the pools of blood and bits of flesh that were tearing off no one even wanted to be touched.

They remembered how those were their favorite days, no matter how much it hurt .

“Hey, hey, come back..” His voice was soft, soothing almost. The man— Aizawa — brought their attention back to reality.

“I...remember most of it. I don’t remember getting there...” Their voice cracked before continuing. “But I remember being there.” Being used, over and over and over —

His phone rang, breaking their daze again. They flinched away from the sound, he noticed, and turned away to answer. The call was short, with a few grunts of affirmation from the hero and a sigh. He turned back once the call was over. “With your permission, we would like to keep you with some heroes during your healing and interview process. To understand why the League needed you specifically. Do I have your consent?”

They nodded, a bit shaken.

He, on the other hand, shook his head. “I need verbal confirmation. Do I have your consent to keep you on campus of UA high with professional heroes for however much time is needed for your healing and interviewing process?” He asked again, this time with more detail. Aizawa needed them to understand fully what was at stake.

“Yes… Yes, I consent.” They paused for a moment, question dancing on their tongue. “Will you be...one of the heroes there?” They weren’t sure why they asked. They didn’t particularly care, as long as they stopped feeling so scared all the time. This was a goddamn nightmare .

“Yes, I will be with you most of the time.”

The thought made their stomach settle.

Days passed in the hospital, heroes came in and out—most of them already knowing who they were. Seemed they would all be interacting with them on campus. Some were more personable than others. Midnight and Present Mic—they learned around the third visit their names were Kayama Nemuri and Yamada Hizashi—were very chatty. Always trying to make conversation with them.

Even though it was rare they replied, rare they would even pay attention. The thought was nice enough for them though, even if they didn’t have it in them to interact. Other heroes like Snipe and Ectoplasm came to introduce themselves, but never stayed long. The air was thick with tension—and they didn’t know how to handle someone with heavy trauma. Usually the professionals didn’t have to stick around to see the aftermath of what happened to the victims who survived whatever they needed saving from.

It was finally time to leave, and although they were relieved to be away from the hospital bed, they were scared to go into the unknown. Then Aizawa came through the door, helping settle any of the fears that came into their mind. This made them feel off — they had no connection to this hero. There wasn’t a reason in the world to trust him any more than the other pros that had walked into their room.

But they never felt as safe with anyone else than with Eraserhead.

“There’s a car in the front of the building, a dormitory has been set up for you personally. Are you ready?”

They stuttered for a moment, grasping onto their arms that have finally begun to heal. Then, with a quick and less than audible yes they stood in front of the open door. And paused.

It was hard to step through, fear coursing through their veins. Two weeks in a safer environment than what they had had for six months was difficult to leave. Aizawa waited, more patient than they could ever ask for. Then he stepped through first, keeping the door open for them.

“It’s safe, I promise.” They’ve heard so many promises it’s hard to tell if this one will be kept.

They took a step through anyway, breath held in their lungs as they stepped under the door frame and into the hero’s personal space. The world was too big, too unknown, there were too many people walking around, too many faces they didn’t know , too many memories coming back —

They felt a hand lightly on their shoulder. Instantly, their arms flew in front of their face in a feeble attempt to shield away from the world and the man’s touch. No words came out of their mouth, just small whimpers and attempts of saying ‘ stop!’ , and so he did. He gave them time, standing off to the side away from their safe haven. He waited for the shaking to stop.

“I’m sorry, for touching you..” He apologized, and sounded sincere. They’ve heard sorry so much, usually followed with a cackle and absolutely no remorse that they almost felt bad for pushing him away.

“It’s...I’m—” There were no words that could possibly tell Aizawa how miserable they felt all the time and they wished they could use their healing quirk on their mental health to fix it and make this better . Letting out a frustrated sigh and tugging at the roots of their hair, they shook their head.

“I’ll follow you.”

He nodded, and walked through the corridors slow enough for them to remain as close or as far as they wished without getting lost. They stayed closer to him than he thought they would.

The car ride was quiet, no words exchanged except a ‘ thank you ’ for the car door being held open, followed by a quick ‘you’re welcome ’. They fiddled with the bandages, trying to unravel a piece and look at the flesh underneath.

“You should leave those on. From experience, looking at what’s underneath isn’t always comforting.”

They paused, and took a quick glance at the man next to them. He hadn’t moved, and still looked forward in the car. They sighed, but ultimately listened. The rest of the ride they kept still.

“This will be your new, temporary home. My room is right across from yours. If you need anything, you can ask.”

They nodded in thanks, not letting their lungs grab in their much needed air until they heard the door click behind them. The shock of the last six months hit them all at once, their mental walls crumbling down—along with their legs. They were left at the edge of the room, drained of all energy they had been using even for the short amount of time they had to be a human. Their arms still stung, months of abuse piled on top of each other without reprieve or proper healing, but that was in the back of their mind as they laid on the floor arms wrapped tight around themselves. They didn’t even have the proper energy to cry—not really . Broken sobs and airy wheezes were all that were heard in the room.

What they didn’t know is that the Erasure hero was still in ear shot, the weeping penetrating his thoughts as we walked into his own dormitory.

The next morning they woke still on the floor, limbs tucked tightly against each other. It was terribly uncomfortable stretching out, muscles sore from the way they slept on the ground. Their head was pounding, heart racing—they’d forgotten where they were.

The panic slowly dissipated when they took another look around the room: It was far too clean, and organized to be the basement of the league.

That’s right, UA dorms.... They sighed, slowly standing on wobbling legs to freshen up for the day. At least this was more of a studio apartment rather than a dormitory, with its own bathroom and kitchen.

By the time they were done with the as-scalding-as-they-could-manage shower, they changed into whatever generic clothing was given to them for the time being and really looked at their arms for the first time in weeks. Most of the wounds were scabbed over, healing hopefully properly. Some of them, the more infected of the bunch, looked like they still had pus oozing from some of the sides. Mostly clear liquid, so it seemed like the infection was slowly going away. They would have to get it checked out again soon...

A knock at the door startled them enough to gasp, eyeing the frame wearily. Then a voice rang out.

“It’s Aizawa.”

Their heart rate picked up, albeit for no apparent reason , and went to open the door after removing its many locking mechanisms. Seemed UA knew to take as many precautions as possible, and for that they were grateful. Their eyes locked onto the hero’s, and he looked almost as horrible as they did.

Bloodshot eyes, bags underneath telling a story that would have screamed ‘he’s been awake for days’ if they could recite words. They hadn’t noticed what rough shape the pro was in yesterday. They felt almost.. guilty, for being so focused on themselves.

Aizawa stayed at the door unmoving until he was invited in. Even with them moving off to the side, as an unspoken invitation, he stayed still.

“...You can come in.” Even those words sounded so forced.

He slowly walked in, bringing a bag and a to-go cup into their view. “I brought you a few things for breakfast, wasn’t sure if you had eaten today or..” Or at all within the last few months is how he wanted to end it. The unsaid question was louder than the words he murmured. “If you allow us, we’ll be having a recuperating session with Recovery Girl, that doubles as an interview. I’ll be walking with you to the session.”

It always astounded them how good with his words he was. If he ever became a villain it’d be very easy to manipulate people with how he chooses his sentences so carefully...

Stop it!

People were trying to help them, and here they were thinking the worst. The frustration must have shown on their face since he spoke again.

“We can reschedule this for another time.”

“ No — ” too forceful, they winced. They tried again, quieter. “... no. It’s okay. I’m... not too hungry.” Somewhat a lie. They were too scared to eat in fear it meant they’d be taken advantage of again, like every other time they needed their energy.

In any case, Aizawa held out a plain wrapped bun with a bottle of water. “At least have this, you look like you’re going to collapse.”

They sighed before agreeing.

The meeting overall was painless, mostly. Recovery Girl introduced herself with her government name, Chiyo Shuuzenji, before invading their personal space. That took time getting used to. They flinched for each smooch that came their way for most of the session. Then, after most of the wounds were noticeably better, not healed , the questions came.

“Now, my dear, what is your quirk exactly? The more detail the better.”

They swallowed the first few times they tried to open their mouth, silently thanking Aizawa for giving them that bottled water earlier. After a few more attempts at speaking, they got some words out.

“It’s… a healing quirk. I can… I can heal virtually any physical injury. I can get to internal bleeding also. I don’t have to imagine it, I don’t have to touch the specific area… as long as I touch that person, and I just think to myself heal — whatever they have that’s physical, I can make it go away.”

They paused for a moment. They hated being reminded of this part.

��But I… I get hurt. I get these cuts on me. I can, um, imagine where I want the cuts. So they can be anywhere on my body. I try to, um, keep them in the same area to… to uh… make it easier for me.”

To make it easier to disinfect one giant spot on their body than a lot of little spots.

“The bigger the damage I’m healing, the bigger the cuts get. And these last few months...” They didn’t want to continue.

Without them noticing, their body was going into a state of shock to be able to actually speak about what has happened the last few months. Even just speaking about their own quirk was triggering their body into panic. They began to shake, just a little, and they brushed it off as being cold. They knew better, but hoped that if they continued to talk themselves down from the attack they could just get over it.

The questions continued.

“When you were with the League of Villains, how often did they make you heal them?”

It was getting harder and harder to speak, shallow breaths were picking up. They pressed on, regardless.

“It was, u-um, almost every day. They kept coming—kept bringing in random people to heal. They pushed me, they kept-kept trying to get me to do more.” Tears were pooling in the corners of their eyes, they tried to blink the salty reaction away. It didn’t work.

“Then… then they—the Nomu—they were… I was—it couldn’t get better and I kept trying, and, and—”

The shaking became violent, and they pressed the heels of their palms into their eye sockets, rubbing viciously—almost as if they were trying to get the thought to go away

“Come on, you can do it — keep trying, ” the white haired one bit out. He was the leader, they learned at some point. They kept trying to heal the monster in front of them. It was missing half an arm and a full eye.

It’s been days of nonstop healing on their behalf. No food, barely any water, their energy levels were dangerously low.

“I-I can’t, it won’t — I can’t!” They cried out, hands shaking clutched onto the mass of arm that was dripping blood. The harder they tried, the deeper the lesions continued to become on their arms. They were almost like claw marks now, dark blood oozing over their own arms. It was hard to tell the difference between their blood and the beast’s.

They were healing — something . But it wasn’t enough to actually heal whatever was in front of them.

“This is useless,” one with black hair and damaged flesh spoke now. “Just have them heal everyone else before they pass out again.”

They wanted to cry, they didn’t want to heal anymore.

The white haired brat spoke one last time, “Fucking useless,” and left the scene. Leaving you to heal everyone else with the marred man watching over you.

They heard their name being spoken, almost yelled, in a frantic voice.

“—stay with us, come back to us! ” The masculine voice tried to reach them, and they gasped out trying to get air back into their lungs.

“I’m, I’m sc—I’m scared! ”

The strangled words sounded so pained , Aizawa didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t touch them, couldn’t make this any worse. He just wanted them better . He could only imagine the damage they’ve been dealing with mentally.

He spoke their name again, this time quieter—almost trying to convince himself it would be okay.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here—it’s safe here, with me, look at me—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence before they flung themselves into his grasp. It was the closest thing to them that would make them feel smaller. Aizawa was taken back by their immediate touch. Last time he attempted to do this they pushed him away. Perhaps this trigger was worse than the first, something they needed grounding for.

The hero wrapped his arms around them, feeling them grasp at the fabric of his clothing as they sobbed into his chest.

All he could do to console them was continue to whisper that it was safe there, that he was there for them , and he would protect them. Eraserhead himself wasn’t entirely sure how many of those were truths, but right now he had to believe it most for their sake.

It took a little under a half hour to finally calm them, back to having a pounding head and racing heart just like this morning.

The session ended after that.

Days turned into weeks at the school, and the “interviews” were more delicate. Aizawa was there for each one, and after a handful more with Recovery Girl making sure their wounds were only scars now, he conducted them alone. The hero always made sure they were comfortable, only asking more questions when he felt they could handle it. And when he noticed the shaking, he would either take a break or stop altogether.

That was in the beginning of their one-on-one sessions.

After two months there for the interviewing process, Aizawa turned into Shouta, taking breaks turned into reassuring hand holds, and stopping turned into much needed time in his arms. They still very much cried, a lot of the memories were more overwhelming than they initially thought.

But Aizawa— Shouta — was there. Shouta was always there. And if they couldn’t do a session that night, not mentally prepared for what was to come—he’d always be understanding. He’d never get frustrated, never push for them to speak.

They wanted to trust him so badly, with all their heart. They hoped one day, they’d be free of their mental prison.

The fourth month they were there they began speaking more freely. This time, it was over breakfast. It was a Saturday—Shouta had the day off from teaching. He had cooked for the two of them that morning.

“They burned me, once.”

He almost dropped his utensil on the ground, startled by the sudden admittance.

They pressed on, “They asked, if I… if I could heal myself. I don’t know why. But I said no , and it’s true. I can’t. It would be a vicious cycle of healing and hurting if I could. But um… the one with the white hair?”

“Shigaraki,” Shouta reminded.

They nodded in understanding. “Shigaraki, he didn’t believe me. He got the other one with the blue fire—” Dabi “—to burn me.” They paused for a moment, lifting their shirt just high enough on their side so he could see the blotchy skin that never fully recovered.

He could only imagine what it looked like when they first received it.

“When they realized I wasn’t lying, they… called in one of their paid off doctors.” The pain wasn’t any better , but they kept that information to themselves.

Shouta stayed silent for a moment, not knowing how to react. “Thank you for trusting me with this information,” was all he said before returning to their peaceful breakfast.

That night, after his patrol, Eraserhead couldn’t sleep. He was getting too close to them, he knew. It’s been nonstop attachment on both ends for four months. He understood they needed someone to help them through this counseling, and he was the best for the job at this point.

But he was attached. He could no longer tell the difference between talking them down from a panic attack because they needed it or because he couldn’t breathe seeing them in pain like that. It was selfish on his part, he knew that. He also knew that eventually, they would leave the dorms, go back to their home, and try to assimilate back to their own norm in society. There was a very big possibility that he would never see them again.

The thought made him sick to his stomach.

Four months of banter, four months of whispered stories and shared secrets. Four months of gentle, fleeting touches. Four months of building a trust that he would never break, not in his life.

Being the professional hero he is, he even thought about making up some sort of excuse as to why he wouldn’t be able to do this with them anymore. Something along the lines of, “The more people they have to interact with, the easier it’ll be for them to go back to the world.” It sounded nice, in theory—on paper.

But would he really be able to do it? Would he really be able to break apart that bond that they had built up so well together?

Not in his life.

Not that they’d ever allow it. They still had attacks, and night terrors they spoke to Shouta exclusively about. If he ever dumped them on someone else their whole being would be crushed. They would find him and scream at him at least once—and shut down completely. It would be a soul-crushing reminder that the world is a cruel and evil place, and that no one cares about each other—not really .

For their own sake, they would not, could not , let Shouta go.

Eraserhead thought about how he’d be able to disconnect personal from work, when he heard a thud coming from across the hall.

And then another.

And then another .

His hero instincts kicked in harder than ever before and ran into the hallway with his heart in his throat. He yelled out for them, banging on the door with each call. He heard sobbing, and warned them that he was going inside the room. He wasn’t entirely sure any of his words were getting to them.

The lock was broken with a kick to the door, and the sight in front of him was enough to make him cry. Their body was hunched over on the ground, head banging against the floor. Their tears were visibly hitting the floor, and the most gut wrenching of it all was and they seemed to still be asleep through this whole nightmare.

Shouta moved to their side on the floor, doing his best to lift their head in his hands and rub the tears away with his thumbs. He continued to call their name, giving them a little shake every now and again trying to wake them as gently as he could. When their eyes opened they were strained, vision blurred. He needed to ground them, still in a haze.

“Hey, I’m here—can you say my name? Tell me who I am, please .”

Their breathing was heavy still, eyes trying to focus on the body in front of them.

“Sh-Shouta,” they hiccuped, grasping at whatever article of clothing they could find. They calmed quickly after that, falling asleep, in his arms.

I’m a fool , he thought, for thinking I’d ever be able to leave them.

The next week or so, Shouta had been dancing around a question that’s been on his mind. It was ridiculous, completely illogical, but after the last night terror he had witnessed it seemed like the best course of action. Normally they weren’t very perceptive of things happening around them when the hero was around, they felt safe enough to not have to pay attention. But today...

“Shouta, are you okay?” Their voice was as soft as ever, almost fearful he was going to tell them that this was enough and that they needed to move on with someone else for protection.

He nodded, biting the bullet and spilling the question—well, statement really.

“Live with me?”

They paused, eyeing him. He couldn’t tell if they were going to laugh, or cry, or scream, or run away . His look was blank, as their look was one of shock.

Then they smiled.

“That would be nice, please.”

After that bit of excitement, the rest of the day was dull for both parts. They packed a small bag that had the more important clothing—they were right across the hall, as it were. But...it was a nice sentiment from the hero. Their anxiety had kicked in a few times throughout the day, thoughts screaming in their head.

He’s going to take advantage of you.

He wants you for your quirk.

He’s going to use you.

They had to shut those thoughts out.

Shouta came back in between teaching classes and patrolling the streets in the evening. He knocked lightly, this time he didn’t wait for them to let him inside. They had become so comfortable with each other the last few months that it was second nature to always be around their presence. Their arms wrapped around his waist, a hug so light it were as if they were scared he’d disappear.

What he didn’t know is that was, in fact, their fear.

He returned the embrace, firmer, before helping move the small quantity of things they had packed up to his studio apartment-esque dormitory and handed them their own key.

“If there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable, please, let me know.”

He saw their first, real smile.

They made themselves as comfortable as they could in their new home. Temporary as it may be, it was home . A safe space for them to be, to exist. It was time for bed now, though they still felt a bit weary trying to sleep knowing that Shouta was still out there being Eraserhead making sure the streets were safe.

So they stayed up...

And stayed up later.

And eventually, clinging onto themselves in the middle of the bed, heard the familiar click of a door being unlocked and saw the pro hero walk in. They almost smiled, until they saw the condition the hero was in.

Their heart dropped.

“Shouta,” his name was rushed out, and they unwrapped themselves from the sheets and ran to him, stopping short in front of him and hovered. He was stabbed in the arm, it seemed.

He shrugged, peeling off the capture scarf that he always had wrapped around his neck.

“It’s fine, I just need some peroxide.” His voice and breathing was so even it should have made them feel better about the situation. There was no panic, no real pain, he would be okay.

But it wasn’t enough for them.

“Shouta, please, please let me—”

“ No .” That was the first time he was ever forceful with them.

They flinched, having to tell themselves over and over again that he wasn’t mad at them, that he wasn’t yelling because they did something wrong, that he wasn’t going to throw them out.

He saw the immediate shift and sighed. He realized now how it could have come across. He called their name.

“Please, you have overused your quirk for so long. This is nothing, just a flesh wound. Please...please don’t.” His voice was at a whisper.

Their anxiety wanted to flare up again, so much. It was yelling in their head again, that he was a liar and that this was the way to get close and use them, use them, use them!

He was going to walk away to go clean up, and they moved without thinking. They had to help him, they had to at least give him something as thanks for the last few months. Their hands reached up to his face, caressing him. Eyes closed, the deep wound he once had on his arm slowly stitched itself together, patching up like nothing had happened. It felt slightly uncomfortable for him, now able to physically feel the healing process at an accelerated rate. But after mere seconds, the wound was gone. Nothing was left except the rip in his clothing.

And then their wound came.

It wasn’t as deep or as large as his, but very much visible on your arm. The blood oozed from the lesion that was created, dripping down their arm. They sighed, taking the pain as best they could before releasing the hero in front of them.

The two stood in silence for what felt like hours, a mixture of astonishment and disappointment written all over his face. They didn’t know how to react, and decided maybe it was for the best if they..left.

Not that he would let them.

He sighed, grabbing a hold of their hand like fine china and brought them over to the first aid in his— their —bathroom.

“That was irresponsible, you know.” There was no malice in his voice.

He worked silently, dabbing peroxide as gently as he could onto the wound and wrapping it neatly with gauze. It was finished up within a matter of minutes, and by the time he looked up their eyes were red and puffy, sniffling away—they were crying.

“Did I hurt you? Why didn’t you say anything?” He questioned, his turn to caress their cheeks.

They shook their head while rubbing away the stray tears.

“I just—” a hiccup “—I just want to say thank you, somehow .” The weeping became louder, no longer able to hold back.

“You have done so much for me, Shouta—too much. I’m always fucking scared, so anxious all the time. I cry all the time, I’m waking up in the middle of the night screaming. And you’re always there! You never complain, you never push me away. I don’t know if this is sympathy or guilt or, or—”

The rest of their words became jumbled in a mess of sobs and heavy breaths, trying to stay afloat in their mind.

They felt something on their forehead.

Shouta dropped his forehead onto theirs, hands moving from their face to caress their back. Their breathing hitched, still sniffling but attempting to keep it under control.

“You are not a burden. You were never a burden. Never to me. Getting to know you has been one of the best things that has happened in my life in a very long time, never think otherwise.” His voice was stern, but sure. No waver in his tone, they could tell he was serious and truthful.

Their now shaky hands were pressed on his broad shoulders, grounding themselves.

“ Why?”

It was a loaded question, they both knew it. Why keep them around? Why were they so special to him? Why did he take so much time even after the physical healing to help them? Why didn’t he go back to his normal routine? Why did he ask them to live with him?

Why, why why —

“Because it seems I have fallen in love with you.”

The rest of the night seemed like a blur, heavy emotions swirling in the atmosphere. There were more tears, on both parts. Confessions were spoken aloud. Bodies melded together on the sheets of their bed. One last I love you whispered in between shared, secretive kisses before finding sleep deep within the night.

It had been now seven months since showing up to UA, three months since they and Shouta had started a relationship together. Their mental stability had gotten stronger, and it seemed like the League of Villains had fallen deeper underground with little to no activity. They were finally in a safe place, able to go home without fear or repercussions.

Except they didn’t want to go.

And if Aizawa were being honest with himself, he didn’t want that either. But he understood that it was a necessary push for them to be free of the mental barrier they had placed on themselves. As long as they were here , in this school, they would be constantly reminded of the reason they felt so trapped. He needed to push them out to the world, just a touch, so they could become better for themselves.

The two stood uncomfortably by the gates of the school, all of their personal belongings, and whatever they wanted to keep that was given to them by the school, packed up. It seemed like a painful goodbye, spending all this time together with the heros and teachers, and eventually students, that they wouldn’t see everyday anymore. An even more painful goodbye to the man they found themselves loving more and more each day. Now that they wouldn’t be a constant in his home, he could easily forget about them. He could replace them with someone not so broken, someone who wasn’t as panicky, someone who he didn’t have to babysit .

“You’re thinking too much.” He broke the silence, and dissipated their doubts, if only by a little bit.

Aizawa grabbed them, just as delicate as any other time he ever held them, and pressed a chaste kiss to their forehead.

“You’ll be alright. You’ve gotten stronger in the last few months. You can do this, you know you can.”

They let out a shaky breath, nodding in agreement.

A month had passed since their departure from UA. The dormitories were missed, but their home was missed more than they thought possible. They spent most of their days cleaning up the place, and getting used to going back out into the world. Sometimes they’d still jump at the shadows. Other times they’d still wake up to the sound of their own screaming.

Other times, they’d feel the weight of the world lifted from their shoulders when a certain someone would remind them that they were doing something thought impossible in the beginning. They were alive , learning how to live again. They started to smile more genuinely, more often.

Tonight marked a month and fifteen days after leaving, and it was the first time Shouta would enter their home. It took a lot of mental preparing, he knew, for them to finally share the piece of their first life with him. This was now solidifying the trust they had been building over the course of the year. They would have a normal dinner date together.

He managed to squeeze himself out of the patrol he originally had thanks to a certain loud friend of his, and made it on time awkwardly holding a bottle of wine with a name neither of them could pronounce. He seemed so out of place at the door, and when they broke into laughter, all the tension was lifted from the scene. He smiled, the feeling reaching his eyes.

“Thank you,” he paused. For trusting me. For believing in my words. For letting me learn about you. For not shutting me out when I pushed you too hard. “For inviting me tonight.”

They smiled with a shake of their head, and led him deeper into their safe place--towards the dining room. “No, Shouta, thank you ,” For being patient. For teaching me how to love myself. For showing me I had the strength to overcome this. For reminding me that I’ll be okay. “For taking the time to come.”

The night was long, and filled with smiles and quiet laughs and shared secrets. The bottle of wine was empty by the end. Now, with their bellies full, the long day had come to an end and with their blessing, Shouta would be staying the night. Somehow, in their inebriated stupor, they had managed to wash up for the late evening and head off to bed.

The two of them stayed awake for a while longer to talk about whatever came to mind. They let out a yawn mid sentence.

“You feel okay?” More of a way for Shouta to see if they’d like to go to sleep.

They gazed at him, hoping that he could see every ounce of adoration and respect they had for him. They thought about the last eight months of their life, how it started off so broken and terrifying. They thought about how the man in their bed started off as a stranger that couldn’t even touch them , that the mere thought of him being too close made them want to claw at their eyes and peel away their skin.

They thought about the moments they wanted to take their own life, how they eventually shared those secrets with him. They thought about the times they didn’t say anything at all.

Then they thought about how over the months they grew, how they became better. How the once-stranger turned into a friend, and eventually, a lover. How he had always been there as an anchor, never overstepping any boundaries and giving them the space they needed whenever they felt unsafe, even from him.

How they learned to cope with the trauma, and learned to manage their panic disorder that was still very much with them due to post traumatic stress.

They thought about how, even though it was a hard and heavy process, they would be okay. That they had survived through hell and came back from it.

Shouta waited, as the gears turned in their head. He knew they were thinking too much, but this time it felt different. When their eyes unfocused the smile on their lips grew, though it was subtle. He let them be; patient as always.

“I’m fine.”

They were still growing, still finding themselves in this terrifying world. But they were managing all the same. They were mending themselves, with some help along the way. No matter how slow the process was, they were healing.

They’d be fine.

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lucitrius · 4 years

Text

•°☆°• Oumami week day 4: "I love you” / “I’m sorry” / "I missed you” •°☆°•

▪ word count: 2,281 ▪ content: spoilers for chapters 1 - 5, survivor au, death, afterlife ▪

————————————————— ☆ —————————————————

Ouma shivered as he laid against cold, hard metal, the only forgiving warmth being the rapidly fading body heat that had been left in the jacket beneath him. The metal was winning, though, and it didn't last long. Goosebumps raised all over his body as a chill rolled through him, and he groaned pathetically. Despite how cold he was, however, there were sweat beads dotting his forehead as he stared up at the looming shadow of the press. At least it would be quick once it touched him.

"...Are you sure about this?" Momota finally spoke up, ripping Ouma back down to reality. He turned his head to look at him, although he couldn't really see his face from where he was laying. Momota noticed this and knelt down next to him, gripping the corner of the base plate tightly. He was nervous too, it was obvious.

Ouma simply offered him a strained grin, nodding as much as he could. "Yup! Even if I wasn't, I would still die anyway. The poison is really starting to make itself known!" His voice was crackly and weak against his own will. He was an impressive actor, but when your body has organ failure on speed dial it's hard to exhibit your best skills.

Momota looked unimpressed with his answer, but even so he knew that he was right. He looked him up and down for a moment before sighing in defeat. "Damn it… You could've drank some of the antidote and saved both of us. But, I guess that's just not your style, huh?" Ouma peered at him with newfound interest until he finished the thought. "You could've just cooperated. I had no idea you were trying to help, you know? Then it- it wouldn't have come down to this. I don't want to kill you, but..."

"Cooperated, huh?" he echoed, turning his head so he was back to staring at the hydraulic press. He opened his mouth to make some remark, to comment on how it was a stupid idea, but nothing came out. He shut his jaw with a slight frown.

Momota sat on his heels silently, waiting for some kind of comment, but just stood up in defeat when he only got silence in return. He scratched his fingers against the hairs on the back of his neck anxiously and started for the control platform. The only sound left in the hangar was the buzzing hum of the press and the faint thudding of the exisals walking around in another part of the building. Ouma didn't like it. He was fully prepared to die- hell this was practically just assisted suicide- but being left alone to his rampant thoughts as he lay on his literal death bed was highly uncomfortable.

It felt like an eternity before he heard Momota's feet stop moving. It was only a matter of seconds, then. He seemed to hesitate to give Ouma the heads up that he was going to do it already, and even when he spoke up he avoided it for just a moment longer. "Hey, I mean, at least you'll be able to see Amami again."

Ouma's eyes widened just a touch; so he had put two and two together after all. He reached up to his chest with a shaky hand, gripping the long pendant of the necklace he still wore. A saddened smile crossed his lips, but he didn't respond as the hum of the press kicked up a few decibels and descended toward him.

•°☆°•

The distant conversation that could be heard in the back of his head was annoying. It hurt, even, only worsening the aching in the back of his skull as it continued. But, that was the thing. Conversation, headache… was he alive? No, that couldn’t be right. He watched it happen, after all, there was no way he could have survived that. As his mind started to focus more and more he realized that he had woken up, as he could see light through his eyelids. Against his better judgement of how much it would hurt, he opened his eyes quickly, and of course had to blink rapidly to adjust.

Sitting up slowly, he looked around expecting to see… well he wasn’t quite sure, really. Clouds, maybe? Or, on the other side of the coin, perhaps an intense heat, but neither was the case. Instead he was promptly met with pure white cabinets and dully toned countertops surrounding him. And as his body moved, he could hear the ruffling of the sheets around him and a thin tube tugging gently at his wrist. Looking down towards the feeling, he immediately identified it as an IV tube, and noticed that he was in a hospital gown. Why was he in a hospital; and more importantly, how?

The voices just outside of his room grew closer gradually until the door rattled on its tracks slightly before sliding open. He, just before the people behind it stepped inside, layed back down quietly, shutting his eyes and opening his mouth a tad to be more convincing. He wanted nothing more than an explanation, but equally as much, he didn’t want to worsen the pain in his skull by trying to talk to someone to get it. He could listen just fine.

“He’s just in here, sir,” said a bland, unnoteworthy voice which he presumed to be either a doctor or nurse. “I would suggest not waking him up on your own so that he doesn’t freak out upon realizing he’s alive, and I’m sure you understand basic visiting decency already so I’ll spare you the lecture.”

A few footsteps moved towards his bed, and under the blanket Ouma tightened his fist.

“I’ll be careful with him, no need.”

Ouma struggled to keep his eyes closed upon hearing Amami speak. Surely this was some cruel personal hell for him to endure for the rest of eternity, after all he saw his corpse. He felt it, he swore he checked for his pulse. But, all of his pessimistic thoughts were thrown out of the window as he felt two warm, gentle hands take one of his own. It felt so real, so familiar.

Amami was silent as he sat there, but even so Ouma focused so much more on listening to his breathing than the track of the door as it was closed once more. Ouma’s eyes squeezed shut even tighter, not wanting to face it. If he opened them, it felt as though Amami would fade away once more, so instead he gripped one of his hands loosely.

The fingers in his hold jolted along with the other boy’s whole body, and he was heard leaning closer towards him. “...Ouma? Are you up?” Of course he was, but he was just so scared. He wanted to live in this reality, in this Schrodinger-type mystery where Amami would always be alive.

With a beat of continued silence, Amami released a sigh. “It’s alright, I don’t care. At least you’re even here,” he continued with a noticeably relieved, yet concerned, tone. There was a brief pause, maybe considering his options. Nothing was exactly stopping him from waking the other up considering the staff member had left the room by that point. But if he still thought that Ouma was truly sleeping, then he may want to let him continue to rest.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have been left alone to fight like that.”

Ouma, very hesitantly, cracked open his eyes. He once again had to adjust to the burning white LEDs that were overhead, but he didn’t care. One quick look to his right, his thoughts were proven wrong. Amami, sitting somewhat hunched over with his eyes closed, shoulders relaxed while his hands were still tense, was right there. Alive. “Don’t tell me Amami is really going to go and blame himself for this all?”

Amami gasped, snapping his eyes up to look at him. A smile immediately crossed his face, his previously somber body language melting into something more lively. “I should’ve known you were awake. I expect nothing less of you,” he chuckled giddily. Ouma found his smile to be contagious, and for the first time since his apparent death, he found himself doing so genuinely; comfortably. Shutting his eyes gently to keep a few tears of joy back, Ouma laughed.

•°☆°•

Something about growing old was oddly nice. Ouma never thought that he would ever want to grow up, but living alongside his friend, his lover, and later his husband completely flipped his ideals. Amami- or Rantarou, rather, once they were wed under the same name- was much more important than his silly childhood wishes, anyway. The countless nights where they laid awake, suffering the consequences of the killing game were really the only issue. But even then, the two of them were always there regardless of whatever horrid nightmare, thought, or memory came to one or the both of them. There was never a moment when they couldn’t be in touch, and it was lovely.

Domestic, lazy days where they did nothing but sit in each others’ arms and sleep were easily his favourite to remember. He had a vivid memory of how Rantarou’s chest felt against him, the welcoming warmth spreading throughout his own body while the thudding of his heartbeat kept him grounded. It didn’t last forever, though.

After some time, the two started to get a bit old for lounging all over each other, and it stopped. Kokichi watched as his husband tended to his needs, as once he reached 72 he could no longer even stand on his own. He always cursed his natural tendency to be weak, which only increased during that time. But Rantarou never minded, and they were happy.

And, after nearly 64 years of marriage, Kokichi was upset upon realizing that they had been separated. It was a gentle passing in his sleep, and neither of them were expecting anything different than normal. Rantarou left him with a careful kiss to his lips, with a soft squeeze of his hand and an exchange of “I love you,” they drifted off together. But once he woke up, he was staring off at a field, which he recognized to be their backyard. That was odd, he thought at first. He rarely visited the garden anymore, even if Rantarou did his best to keep it alive and well. The best he had was a view outside of their bedroom window, where the vines of wisteria creeped along the wooden panels that surrounded the glass and a few young apple trees struggled to blossom in their juvenile stages.

He made no effort to stand, instead opening his mouth to call out for the other man gently. “Rantarou?” he asked to thin air, suddenly shocked at the youth in his own voice. He looked down at himself, and sure enough, his hands were thin and nimble once more, only now he felt even more weightless than ever. Ah, so this is it. This is what he was expecting all those years ago when he had laid cold and alone under the press, when he was convinced that Rantarou had been ripped away for good. So here he was, now the one that had gone missing.

It was a lonely existence, in all honesty, but he tried not to mind it. He spent his time looking after the house, which was an exact replica of the home he had practically memorized by this point, in waiting for the day that he would receive some company. He made sure that the garden stood green, that the apple trees- which were much older and readily bearing fruit now- were healthy, and that the wisteria by his window was always secured to the wall.

As he set down his trowel and picked up a watering can, having just planted a bulb that he had taken out last spring, he heard the grass behind him shift under someone’s weight. He dropped the container, some of the water spilling over the metal trim top, and whipped around on his knees.

Just in front of him, Rantarou was lying peacefully in the grass, just beside the patch of Forget-Me-Nots that they had planted together the day after their wedding ceremony. He smiled warmly, standing up and brushing the dirt from his knees as he shuffled over to where he was sat. He stood over him, looking down at his sleeping face longingly. It was fine, he could sleep. He deserved to wake up peacefully just as Kokichi had.

After a few minutes, he watched as Rantarou’s eyes fluttered open slowly, his focus wavering momentarily before landing on the man above him. His eyes widened, and as soon as it was offered to him, he grabbed the hand outstretched and sprang up to grab Kokichi into a tight embrace. Kokichi giggled, throwing his arms up and around his husband once more, relieved to finally feel the warmth of his chest again. It didn’t take long for them both to start crying; neither of them minded doing it in front of each other anymore, and in this afterlife, there wasn’t ever going to be anyone else to see it anyhow.

Kokichi pulled away from him, staring up at his jade green eyes affectionately before standing up on his toes to kiss him softly. They didn’t part for what felt like centuries, and it was incredible. They were home, together, once more.

Rantarou laid a hand on his cheek, pressing his thumb into his skin slightly just to get closer to him than he already was. They were always, always getting closer. “I missed you.”

#oumami #oumami week 2020 #kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #rantarou amami #rantaro amami #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #New Danganronpa V3 #ndrv3 #drv3 #drv3 spoilers #//sorry for being late!! i still have to catch up cause friday was a busy day and so was today :(#citrus drips #id #🍈

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sidhewrites · 4 years

Text

The Prince in the Wood, Part 5

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part Six.

Approx. 1450 words.

Content warning for a mentions of hospitalization, medical tests, blood pressure, and one mention of of underage drinking.

So I kept it to myself. Chalked the bruises up to an uncomfortable sleeping position, and the scratch something that I must have done by accident in my sleep. Of course, I wasn’t one to stir -- hardly ever had to make the bed, I moved so little -- but it was easier simply to ignore it. After all, it never happened again. I always made it to my own bed before I fell asleep, and Mary stayed up late with a little flashlight, reading or drawing or doing whatever it was she busied herself with long after I’d fallen asleep.

And life continued. Frail, fragile Mary remained home more and more, now a regular at the doctor’s office for all the tests they were trying to run. The doctors never found anything beyond the usual -- anemia and insomnia and, occasionally, low blood pressure -- but they kept an eye out all the same.

My remaining teenage years resembled something almost normal. I got a girlfriend, then broke up with her the week before prom. I went out to parties where some of the kids drank alcohol. And I applied to colleges, both local and prestigious, just to see where I could get accepted. Mary applied as well, but we all knew she’d be going to the nearby community college to stay close to home. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t make it into anything more noteworthy than a state school that offered generous scholarships to local residents, but it was still a good few hours’ drive away -- further than I’d ever gone from home without my family, and our trips had never lasted longer than a weekend.

The idea of so much change terrified me as much as it drew me in. I loved my family, but my life had always revolved so closely around them, and a part of me was desperate to see the sort of person I would be if it was just me. No crazy sister who’d run out into the woods and spoke weird languages into thin air, no fathers obsessed with security and locking us up like prisoners. As normal as our life had become, the shadow of the past still hung over us in a way I could never truly escape without leaving home.

Mary thought it would be a great idea. We were studying one afternoon, going over guides and notes for an upcoming exam when I presented the idea to her, and she smiled at me instantly.

“You could do anything you wanted,” she said, eyes bright in a rare moment of energy. “Join a rock band. Write a movie. Become one of those goth girls that old people are scared of.”

I laughed. “Some old people are already scared of me.” I put on my best smirk a la Norman Bates, and said, “Would you like to buy some girl scout cookies?’

Mary laughed as well, and threw an eraser at me, which I promptly put in my pocket.

“Mine, now,” I said.

“Hey, wait, I need that.”

“Too bad. It’s coming to college with me, now.”

We both laughed then, arguing over erasers and supplies and forgetting to compare our notes.

The day after the exam, however, Mary had another episode. She woke up paler than ever, dark circles under her eyes, and we had to rush her to the hospital. Alarmingly low blood pressure, with another bite, this time on her wrist. It looked like it had healed up overnight, nothing more than two faint scars on her skin, but there was nothing else that seemed connected to it.

I sat with her while our dads spoke with the doctor in the hall, reading opinion columns out of yesterday’s newspaper out loud. The IV beside her bed dripped slowly, replacing the blood that had been lost seemingly overnight, and she frowned up at the ceiling, only half aware of the world around her.

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and looked up to see Mary’s hand reaching out to mine. I took it and gave a gentle squeeze, hoping it would ground her in reality at least a little bit. “I’m here,” I said.

“Promise not to forget me?” She spoke so quietly, I almost missed it.

“What?”

“When you go away and have an exciting life on your own. Will you remember me?”

I didn’t understand. She spoke as if my future had already been decided, as if she knew what I would choose when I barely knew myself. “Don’t say that. You’re my sister. How could I leave you behind?”

She just smiled sadly at me, and then looked up at the ceiling again, eyes misting over like they had so often before. Nothing else I said would reach her, and I gave up before even thinking of trying again.

But she was right, in the end. I accepted a place at the state university, and by the end of that summer, half of our bedroom was packed up in suitcases and loaded into a borrowed SUV. We made it a family trip, spending a few days in the city just exploring before I moved into the dormitory officially. It was a tearful week, though the city life seemed to do Mary some good. She filled out some, a bit of color coming to her pale face as we explored and sought out hole-in-the-wall shops and restaurants.

I slept fitfully while we were there, nothing like the deep sleep I was used to, but I wrote it off as nerves. Everything was changing all at once, after all, and I hadn’t a thought to spare for anything else.

My roommate, Shannon, was a girl from out of state who was here on both swimming and academic scholarships, and she terrified me at first -- at least until she put up video game and movie posters on her side of the wall. She introduced me to all her favorite pieces of media, as well as the best places and tips on how to study without burning yourself out. We became fast friends, and I found myself more than a little excited, even when the day finally came to say goodbye to my family.

I hugged them all tightly as I could -- even Mary, fragile as she was -- and swore to write as soon as the week was up to let them know how things were going.

“Remember your promise,” Mary said through tears, her little hand gripping mine.

“I’m not gonna forget you.” I’d lost count of how many times I had said it over the past few months, but I still said it again. “I promise. I’ll write and call, and I’ll be back home before you know it.”

She nodded, dubious, and hugged me again, before shuffling into the car and letting Pop start the long ride home.

I did write them, by the way. I remembered at the end of the week, and every other week after that for the first month or so. But school was -- busy. Occupying. I joined a club, I went to parties, and Shannon always had something to do. My letters and phone calls home became less frequent, and I thought about my family less and less. My sleeping patterns never improved, but Shannon introduced me to the world of coffee, and we spent plenty of countless nights awake, playing the latest games until dawn.

I was living a life free of my old worries and nightmares, even going so far as to spend one weekend in the nearby woods with a few friends, close enough to a campground to be legal, but far enough from civilization that we could almost forget the world beyond.

Someone had brought an electric lantern that could flicker like a dim campfire, and we sat in a circle around it, daring each other to come up with the best ghost story. Everyone came up with the cliche scary stuff -- skinwalkers, deranged murderers, and the ghosts of their victims.

And then it was my turn. Everyone looked at me, and I froze.

I’ve never been that creative. I couldn’t come up with imaginary monsters that hunted us down or things that had once been human. That had always been Mary’s gift, not mine.

Mary.

Her name struck me oddly, and guilt began to press down on my chest. How long had it been since I’d given my sister any thought? There was so much else in my life that I could barely stop to think about anything beyond the university’s campus, much less my sister, convalescing in a bedroom hundreds of miles away.

Someone said my name, and I looked up, suddenly brought back to the present.

“It’s your turn,” they said.

I nodded. I had an idea.

“These woods are alive, you know, and they have a prince. When the leaves rustle, it means they’re going to invite us to visit him for tea.”

#writeblr #horror fiction #short horror fiction #short story #original fiction #lgbtq fiction #theres like no horror in this part or like any real mentions of it but. gotta contrast the normalcy to the big climax right?#writing #mystuff

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umbillicalnoose · 5 years

Note

i think that you would think im pretty and would like my poetry and i want to share it with you. im shy.

to be honest, im very apathetic these days. im not the nice “cutesy baby flower petal boy” i used to be. a lot has happened & im bitter & sullen & all in all, a pretty shitty friend/person to know. i used to possess some redeeming qualities, believe it or not, even if they were construed by the subconscious in an attempt to be likeable - a facade, even tho its only a facade, is still tangible, still there, is still something, even if not authentic. is poorer character forgivable in the name of presenting more authentically? but nah. that makes it sound like im putting effort into being a better person, which im not. im just sort of fried & done. its been a very long time since i played the role i built for myself on here of the “small fawn boy who wants to help girls” lmaooo. how embarrassing. altho, i was just a kid, & i guess, if you had a tumblr as a teenager, you went thru some cringe (i know the use of that word has fallen in on itself & adopted its own definition but for lack of a better one) ass phases, whether it was kinning or malingering mental illness or oh fucking christ, all that gender bullshit, etc etc. from what ive observed, tho, loosely following kids im still casually friends with that i met on here, i think we’ve all managed to Grow The Fuck Up, at least a little. most of us have jobs or r in school or have partners - growing up & moving on is a very surreal experience to watch/go thru. im moving at my own pace & ive accepted that - im still currently using & starving myself & concocting a suicide plan every day but at least i use clean needles as much as possible, i actively & honestly do strive for the bare minimum calorically, & um able to work with the mentality of “well ill have this when i need it but todays not that day” a lot more readily, in relation to suicide shit. ive finally found a therapist who Really Gets It, is a frontrunner internationally on ritual & extreme abuse & mind control. its pretty incredible what a few years with a good therapist can do. anyways. im sorry, i know you didnt ask for all this & im not even sure why i divulged. i guess, what tipped me off, was your attempt at sounsing “cute” - dude, cut that shit out, i promise youll be a lot better off. & i know everyone interchanges aspects of their personality based on who theyre talking to/who they percieve themselves to be talking to, but i feel like not a lot of people give enough credence to the internet & its hand in shaping/molding young people, kids, vulnerable dumbasses, especially tumblr (tho, i get that its a relatively new phenomenon) - u get a bunch of the “weird”, “alternative”, ““ostracized” kids together on a website, of course its gonna nurture a culture of hypervalidatoon & pretending to be sick in order to fit in to the point that its not an act anymore & exacerbation of symptoms & basically, just sucking each others dicks, sitting in ur own shit, & never ending coddling. & then, you have the older group of kids, who have played this game before but instead of helping or ignoring the Dumbshit kids, they indulge their own normally-buried-but-unleashed-by-internet-anonymity sadism/human instinct to just be fucking dicks & so now you have this vicious cycle of anger & hatred & fucking melodrama up the urethra. im sorry, i know im comig off as/am being harsh but god fuckin dammit yknow? also, this isnt directed at you, specifically, more of a generalized thing, @ myself included. so uh. i mean, if u still wanna share it with me after reading all this, id be happy to read ur poetry. i used to be over the top nice & then reverted to Major Asshole & am now trying to find that sweet middle spot - honoring & allowing myself to share my pain without putting it on others. which is really hard!! cuz becoming a Dick was difficult in that it forced me to be more honest with my true self & as such, more vulnerable - now in trying to become Kinda Nice again because despite being a pulsating scrotom, ive had the intense desire for friendship & human interaction, while simultaneously doing things that i was consciously aware was pushing others away - but then, if i pretend to be nice, where does that authenticity i worked for & was so scared of go? & i dont mean telling someone their new haircut looks nice even when it doesnt - thats just not being a dick. but i guess, those r the normal trials & tribulations of any relationship & adolescent developing identity. which is weird too - dealing with “normal” issues, i mean. whats the point if your life/limbs/breaking point arent at risk? whats the point when your best friends already dead. im sick of people calling "survivors” (despise that word, so fucking female-originated & overdramatic) “brave” & “strong” - surviving is not brave or strong. its just survival. you wouldnt call an animal brave for running for its life from a predator but you would call a dog courageous for going into a burning building to save its owner. premeditated action on the notion that you are probably going to be hurt is brave. being subjected to pain with no choice is not. theres no “silver lining” or anything “good” to be drawn from it either - sure it may have made x a more compassionate person or made y more introspective & gentle but you know what would have been even fucking better??? if the shit hadnt happened in the first place! let x be an asshole & y be self absorbed - the “benefits”, so to speak, do not outweigh the cost, not by a long fucking shot. its not only patronizing to hear garbage like that, but a slap in the face to know that anyone could possibly see anything good coming from that nightmare & that the characteristics, good or bad, you developed either in response to or as a result of, are worth praise. dont tell me im strong for doing what i had to to escape a torture chamber - tell me im perseverant for studying my ass off & passing that test last week. in the words of one of my dearest & most fucking brilliant friends, “pain doesnt owe me/you purpose - the need to intellectualize & assign meaning to pain & death is not only futile, but harmful.” & honestly, i think that it stems from weakness (in most cases - i realize theres a plethora of other reasons such as those who r just desperate for something to hold on to or r hyperintellectual & analytical or who have been pressured by external “support” systems to find the “good” etc etc) - while the majority of people view the person who “can find the good in everything” (strictly speaking only in relation to trauma/tragedy here & more in denunciation of those that celebrate this trait as opposed to vilifying “survivors” who respond this way, though in my experience, its very very very rarely the “survivor” that perpetrates this ideology ) as strong, i sort of see it as a weakness - their inability to sit with & absorb their own pain or that of others is so strong that not only do they have to frantically pull rainbows out of the teeth of a meat cleaver, they also have to exist within this strange (tho, not malicious - more subconscious) superiority complex. like, nah, dude, some times shit is just awful. you cant tell me anything fucking good came out of a four year old girl being kidnapped, gangraped, & tortured for two years, before being impaled & left to die on a stake. her mom opened a non profit organization? oh well thank fucking god for that!!! those that believe the latter to be more “enlightened” or whatever the fuck r the same people who say shit like “dying is easy - living is harder” & i get that that its supposed to be interpreted metaphorically for the most part - giving up is easy, trying isnt (which also.....isnt true??? admitting defeat & fully accepting the fact that ur fucking helpless is beyond hard lmao???) - but pretend youre somewhere, anywhere outside ur sunny little fucking yoga studio full of white women whos biggest issues r the pta & johnny whos failing math, & lets say your life is in real, imminent danger, a gun is to your head & i want you to not scream or cry or beg for ur life since dying is “easier”. if dying is so easy, why do the majority of ppl cling to it with such desperation - why is suicide illegal? why do some ppl go thru 100s of chemo treatments even tho the doctors say theyre just prolonging the inevitable, ppl who cut off a diseased arm so it wont spread, those who walk dozens of miles every day for food & water, etc? & i know & understand the survival instinct better than anyone, even when i wanted to die more than anything, my natural instincts would kick in with no conscious neural input & id do what i had to do. im not condemning those who cling to life (ok - a little. ur wasting resources out of ur own fear. but i also realize thats just me being a Fucking Asshole As Always cuz technically, im doing the same thing tho its more due to lack of opportunity rather than fear. i just think, societally, death should be more normalized, discussed, & not made out to be so unknown & scary), instead just reprimanding those who say shit like that (inspirational facebook quotes). especially cuz most of the ppl who do spew that shit have never gone thru anything even remotely difficult - their worst nightmare is a Big Scary Black Man grabbing them on the street, mugging them, & touching their tits. & i also know that these stupid ass sayings are to be applied to bullshit like exercise & fitness (“no pain no gain” is another one of my Favorites) & not fucking torture or even just ur run of the mill rape, even that would probably smash the rose tinted banana republic shades off their beverly hills tanned faces. but ive heard the no pain no gain one a handful of times in the last few weeks, specifically from doctors performing procedures in preparation for my bottom surgery. & i know its supposed to be encouraging & they have no way of knowing, but its just like, buddy, u have no idea who youre fucking talking to. & im starting to understand what THEY mean when they say it - pain with a reward is infinitely more tolerable than pain just for the sake of pain; like, a tattoo, it hurts, but u know, when its done, its gonna be sick as fuck. when u r able to fall back on the idea that its for something u rlly want, its A Lot easier to handle as opposed to pain thats Just Pain - theres no reward for it except, i guess, that the more u experience it, the closer u r to the end of it lmao. i mean, i still hate when ppl say it cuz for most of my life, pain was just pain, & the “reward” was the opportunity to go home at the end & so whenever ppl say that, my mind just immediately resorts back to that & im just like haha fuck u. but im trying to remember my experiences r definitely not universal & im starting to sorta understand what they mean i think. but, flipping gears here, & going back to the sentiment of “everything happens for a reason”, the base philosophy of psuedo deep Fuckwads - a girls dad didnt fuck her “for a reason”, everything doesnt happen “for a reason”. like ok, hypothetically, the kid he impregnated her with & that she was forced to have at 12 may surpass all odds & not become a homeless junkie & instead become a world renowned doctor who finds the cure for cancer. but she wasnt raped repeatedly from the age of six for that “reason”, no matter what anyone says & honestly, the liberation of the masses does not justify the suffering of one, especially a child. in my eyes at least. but again, im a bitter asshole. sorry i just Went The Fuck Off here oh my god.....if u read all this, thanks, pal. if not, thats cool too. but yea, send me ur stuff, id totally be down to read it. as for me potentially thinking ur cute, i have to look at my disgusting shitstain of a “face” every goddamn day so everyone else to me is fuckin aphrodite. but im also tryin to not put so much worth into physical appearance- its not something that should be complimented cuz its just smth a person was born with which is the same reason it shouldnt be insulted. this is gonna sound gay & stupid but i personally find that a persons essence & personality really permeates. you can meet someone who, objectively, isnt all that great looking, but once u get to know them, u really see their beauty - how the sun catches in their hair, their dilated pupils looking up at u from under long eyelashes in the dark, the birthmark on their right shoulder that they despise but that is so Them, the gap in their teeth, etc. & idk how to phrase this without it sounding like “well ur ugly but at least ur a good person”, cuz that only reiterates the societally indoctrinated emphasis on appearance & my kneejerk reaction to assure the person in question that thats not what im saying is only another result of that!!! its inescapable!!! but no, really, its not just a matter of “its on the inside that counts” - physically, they change or maybe, actually this is more likely, when i first meet them, my “default” eyes r just looking for features that i know im immediately attracted to (tall, blonde, sickly as in sunken eyes sticklike pale but still looks like she could & will beat the shit out of me) but as i fall in love or get to know them better, my eyes adjust & i notice & adore the beauty that was there all along. so uh. idk if ill think ur “cute”. but probably, yes, ill think ur an angel.

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captain-kingliamsqueen · 6 years

Text

It Hurts To Think About it

Part 10 of Life Before Him

CATCH UP!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

MASTERLIST!

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Summary: … Riley and Liam have her parents in cells... what happens when she sees them again?

Word Count: 3,824

Tagged : @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @drakelover78 @queencatherynerhys @devineinterventions2 @jayjay879 @kawairinrin @hopefulmoonobject @flyawayblue56 @gardeningourmet @blackcatkita @syltti78 @diamond-dreamland @theroyalweisme @hhiggs @mfackenthal @bruteforcebears @pens-girl-87 @barbaravalentino @umccall71 @darley1101 @crookedslimecreatorpasta @jamjar84 @starstruckpixelberryhistoryvoid

ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE! (USED THE TAGS FROM MY “ALWAYS” SERIES LET ME KNOW IF ANYONE WANTS UNTAGGED!!!)

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance!

Liam and Riley headed down to the cells where her mother and father were imprisoned. They came to the huge iron gates in the “basement” part of the palace, they stopped in their tracks long enough for Liam to put the passcode into the lock, the gates buzzed allowing them to enter. Bastian stood at the end of the hall staring into one of the cells. Riley could feel her heart nearly beating out of her chest…she had dreamed of pulling them up for years, of having the satisfaction of rubbing her life she was living now in their faces. As they met Bastian, the two stopped Riley looked into the cells to see the two criminals just sitting there in two opposite cells…not saying a word. As soon as they seen Riley they were shook.

“fancy seeing you two here…” Riley barked

“you know…I was talking to my loving fiancé, King Liam this morning about your punishment…and d’you know what…Liam and I…we agree that you have to be punished, no matter what…I don’t think you understand the punishment that awaits you for what you did to me…you tried to kill the future queen of Cordonia…do you understand what means….Mother.” Riley looked at the woman without blinking

“well…um…-”

“ooh…you don’t know?” Riley chuckled then looked to her father’s cell “what about you…father? Do you know what that means?”

“um-”

“DIDN’T THINK SO! TREASON! THAT’S WHAT YOU COMMITED AND THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE BEING CHARGED WITH…TREASON! BET YOU DIDN’T THINK OF THAT WHEN YOU TOOK ME AGAINST MY WILL…YOU TIED ME UP AND DEPRIVED ME OF OXYGEN…FOR GOD KNOWS HOW MANY HOURS!! JUST SO YOU COULD GET MONEY…THAT YOU DON’T EVEN NEED! YOU LEFT ME FOR DEAD!” Riley screamed at them…but she didn’t shout angrily…she yelled stoically…like the queen she would be. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU GET SENTENCED WITH IF YOUR CHARGED WITH TREASON? DEATH! SO UNLTIMATELY BY TRYING TO TAKE MY LIFE…AND FAILING…YOU LOSE YOURS! MAYBE IN YOUR NEXT LIFE…YOU’LL LEARN YOUR LESSON FROM THIS ONE!!...YOU DESERVE TO SUFFER LIKE I HAD TO SUFFER…BUT ALL I WANT RIGHT NOW, IS TO GET YOU OUT OF MY LIFE…AND MAKE SURE YOU CAN NEVER COME BACK AND HURT ME AGAIN”

“RILEY PLEASE!!!” Her mother screeched as she stood from the bench and went to run towards the door but was stopped when the shackles that were attached to her wrists and to the floor in front of the bench, pulled her back, causing her to fall to the floor. she hissed as they pulled on her skin.

“aww mommy…did that hurt?” Riley smirked “good…you deserved it!”

“Riley please! We are your family…please don’t do this!” her mother panicked

“HAH! FAMILY? NO THAT’S WHERE YOU’RE MISTAKEN! YOU’RE NOT MY FAMILY YOU NEVER HAVE BEEN…FAMILY DON’T ABONDON EACH OTHER…THEY DON’T HURT EACH OTHER…NOT THE WAY YOU TWO DID…YOU ARE NOTHING! TO ME! YOU MEAN NOTHING! LIAM IS MY FAMILY…HANA…DRAKE…MAXWELL…BERTRAND…OLIVIA! EVEN BASTIAN THEY HAVE ALL DONE MORE FOR ME…THAN YOU EVER HAVE! THEY ARE FAMILY…THEY KNOW THE MEANING OF FAMILY! YOU MAY HAVE GIVEN BIRTH TO ME, YOU MAY HAVE KEPT ME UNDER YOUR ROOF FOR A WHILE…BUT YOU WILL NEVER BE MY FAMILY…YOU THREW ME ASIDE LIKE I WAS DIRT AND NOW I’M GOING TO DO THE SAME TO YOU!” Riley stood as the woman crumbled before her.

“maybe if you hadn’t been such a shitty mom and dad…you wouldn’t be lying on the cold concrete floor of a cell…crying for your life after being told you going to die for what you done…I sincerely hope from the bottom of my heart…that you both know…what you did was wrong…all of it…everything…I hope you both understand that this isn’t easy to do…but for my own safety and everyone else’s…it has to be done…you have thirty minutes to say your goodbyes to each other…” Riley sighed as she stepped to the side…allowing Liam to officially charge them.

“I…King Liam of Cordonia, here by charge you, Lillian and Stewart Robertson of treason!...you are being sentenced to death by firing squad… at…twelve-thirty on October 1st you will be taken to the royal courtyard where you will be sent to your death as punishment for your crimes” Liam turned from the cells and took Riley's hand in his then the two left the only sound being Riley mother screaming and crying for her. Riley wiped beneath her eyes she walked away, wiping away the stray tears that fell as her mother called for her. Once the reached the main floor of the palace again Liam pulled Riley to his chest, holding her close. He placed a gentle kiss on her head as she sniffled.

“I’ll be alright” she sighed as she pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her nose. “no matter what they’ve done…it’s still difficult”

“I know, you’ll be alright, you’ll get through it” he whispered.

“Liam…when is my first appointment with the therapist?”

“one-thirty today. Now…its up to you if you want to come with me, I have to witness the shooting…but you…you don’t have to…I won’t put you through that” Liam sighed

“I feel like for my own good I shouldn’t go…it’s one thing confronting them and accepting that they have to die for what they did to me but it’s another to actually watching their lives being taken from them…I hate them, but I don’t think I could watch anyone having their lives taken from them.”

“listen…it’s not the first time ive had to do it…its hard…it’s difficult to watch a stranger die never mind your parents…I think it’s best that you don’t go.” Liam stated

“thank you…for understanding Liam…” Riley whispered as she wiped her face of the stray tears that had fallen

As Liam went to speak he was interrupted by one of the guards coming from the doors Riley and Liam had not long come through.

“your Majesty…Your Grace…the prisoners will be taken to the courtyard in ten minutes”

“of course, I’ll be along in a moment.”

“I’m sorry you have to watch this Liam” Riley sighed as the guard took his leave, heading back to the cells.

“I’ll get through it…I’d rather me than you” he whispered as he gently cupped Riley's cheeks in his hand, he gently grazed his thumbs over her tear stained cheeks. “this is the next step to getting better…I love you riley” he whispered before gently placing a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you too” she whispered before leaning up to kiss his lips.

“you should go and relax before the therapist gets here”

“yeah” Riley sighed. She was more than nervous about speaking to the therapist, it was one thing talking to Liam about her concerns and her pain, but it was another laying everything on the table to someone you don’t know, but she knew she had to if she wanted to get better.

“I’ll see you later?” she asked

“of course,” Liam smiled.

Once Liam left to go to the courtyard Riley headed upstairs to their quarters.

The courtyard was very rarely used, Liam had only ever seen one execution before, for weeks after it he couldn’t sleep, whenever he did sleep, he would wake up from nightmares. He was nervous, he hated having to watch it, having to sit and just watch someone’s life being torn from them, he knew they deserved it, they hurt Riley, he would have killed them himself if he could, but that wouldn’t have helped. Once he reached the viewing stand, he took a seat in one of the thrones as he watched the trained soldiers lined up on their marks. The first to be brought out was Lillian, she fought the guards to the last minute, her hair was all over the place her clothes where ripped from her struggles to get away from them, her cheeks stained red, she was led to the wooden plank that stood tall, her arms were cuffed together behind her, around the plank as she faced the firing squad. One of the sergeant’s walked over, placing a bland fold over her eyes then, took his place at the end of the line of soldiers, he stood just watching his watch after about thirty seconds he shouted.

“...TAKE YOUR STANDS…AND…FIRE!”

The soldiers all, simultaneously, let one bullet fly each. Liam flinched as the guns went off. just moments later, Stewart was brought out, the same process was followed…

“…TAKE YOUR STANDS…AND…FIRE!”

As the mans body fell limp, Liam let out a deep breathe he didn’t realise he was holding. As the courtyard was cleared Liam just sat…staring into thin air, it was things like this that made him feel the real weight of the crown.

Back in the palace, as Riley reached the royal quarters she wondered about, nervously tidying odd bits and bobs, knowing what was happening, she had to keep herself busy. She headed for their kitchenette and started to make herself some tea, once she had put all the components together and stirred the liquid, as she lifted the mug to her lips, she heard it…

*BANG! *

Riley dropped the mug, letting it crash to floor, shattering everywhere, the boiling liquid scolding her legs.

She cursed and hissed as she tried to pull her trouser from her legs. She broke down into tears when she heard the second one goes off…knowing that, that was it…they were gone, they couldn’t hurt her anymore, not physically anyway.

It was about fifteen minutes later that Liam walked in the door. When he seen her stood there, crying, in the middle of a shattered mug on the floor, with no trousers on and her legs red raw, he quickly approached her.

“Riley what happened?” he asked worried

“I-I was making some t-tea when I heard…when I heard the gun shots” she cried “I dropped the m-mug, it burned my legs”

Liam quickly grabbed a clothe running it under cold water, he then dabbed it gently onto her legs.

“Riley are you alright?” he asked

“I will be…I just…didn’t expect to hear it…I’m…I’m not sure how to feel Liam…I should be happy…they can’t hurt me anymore…they can’t cause me pain…but I can’t help but feel a little sad”

“hey…that’s okay…that’s good…it means you have a heart Riley, they were your parents, as much as they hurt you, at one point in your life…they meant something to you. It’s understandable that you feel sad, but you also understand that it had to be done sweetie.”

“I know…I just…I’m torn”

“I know…I understand” he whispered

After helping Riley sooth, the burns, she changed her trousers whilst Liam cleaned the mess the mug had left.

It was just a few moments later there was a knock at the door.

“come in!” Liam called, Bastian entered the room, quickly bowing his head.

“Your Majesty, Miss Jones is here” he informed him.

“great thank you Bastian…could you show her to my study please and I will have Riley come along in a few minutes” he replied

“of course,” Bastian left the room closing the door behind him, once Liam put the broken mug in the bin and had wiped up the spilled tea he headed for the bedroom where he informed Riley that the therapist had arrived.

“she’s here?”

“yes, Bastian is just showing her to my study, are you ready?” he asked from the door frame

“as ready as I’ll ever be” she sighed then pulled her flat slip ons on, then she headed for the door to their quarters.

“are you coming?” she asked Liam confused as to why he hadn’t followed her

“no sweetie…this is something you have to do on your own sweetie, but you can tell me everything when you’re done, I just…the therapist said on the phone that I can’t be in the room with you during your sessions, not for a couple of weeks, she wants to get to know you and your thoughts without anyone else butting in.” he gave her a comforting smile

“o-okay” she mumbled

“it’s alright…you’ll be fine Riley, I promise” he assured her.

“will you be in here?” she asked nervously

“yes, I will wait right here for you to finish” he smiled

“okay” she mumbled “ill…I’ll see you later” she whispered as she left the room.

Liam wished he could go with her, hold her hand, or even just be present in the room but he couldn’t for her own sake, she had to do this on her own.

Once Riley reached Liam's study, she gently knocked then walked in, she was greeted by a short, brunette woman, she had pulled one of the chairs across from Liam's, over to the other side of the room, sitting it across from the sofa. She stood from her feet and approached Riley, she reached her hand out, gesturing for her to shake it.

“Riley, I’m so happy to finally meet you” she smiled, Riley gently took her hand, shaking it firmly

“it’s great to meet you, miss…”

“jones…but you can call me Ellen”

“okay…Ellen” Riley mumbled.

“why don’t you have a seat” Ellen gestured to the sofa, Riley walked over sitting herself down whilst Ellen sat in the chair opposite her, with a clip board in hand and a pen.

“now Riley…who’s idea was it for you to meet with me?” Obviously knowing it was Liam but she asked anyway.

“it was my fiancé, Liam” Riley replied with a little smile on her face

“the king?”

“yes”

“why did he think you should speak with a therapist?”

“because…I need help…I asked for help…”

“good, that means you want to get better…that’s a good start…so Riley…why do you need help?”

“I…I tried to hurt myself…I took a lot of pills”

“why did you try and hurt yourself?”

“I was having a king of mental breakdown…my um…my parents abandoned me…when I was a little girl, I woke up one morning and they were gone…with my sister…they found out I was engaged to a king and they showed up…after not seeing them from the age of ten…they just showed up” she whispered “out of nowhere”

“and how did that make you feel?”

“angry…I was so angry at them…how dare they leave me the way that they did then show up when they find out I’m marrying a king”

“do you think they came back for money”

“yes…they were always money hungry.”

“Riley, when you realised your parents had left you, when you were a little girl…how did you feel?”

“hurt…I was so hurt, I sat on the porch step for hours watching all the cars that drove by hoping it would be them coming back for me, but they never did…and that made me feel…worthless, like I…like I wasn’t good enough for them…what did I do that made them leave me like that…how bad of a child was I for them to leave me for dead. How much must they have hated me to just…leave me like that, I didn’t have family I didn’t have anyone…the funny thing is though…the maids never turned up that day…or any day after that…they obviously knew they wouldn’t be needed…so they told the maids they were leaving…but they failed to tell me” she sniffled wiping her nose with a tissue. “I cried for weeks...until eventually I just couldn't cry anymore...they weren't coming back I had to be strong there was no one to look after me anymore...I had to look after myself”

“I see…when you think about what they put you through as a child…how do you feel?”

“sad…I want to cry…why didn’t they love me…I was their child…their little girl…” she burst into tears “when they turned up here…I yelled at them so bad…they hurt me and I just couldn’t help but shout at them…when I asked…why they left me…my mother’s reply was that the couldn’t afford to look after me…but the thing is…we had maids…we had the biggest house on the block, my father own a very well-known business, we were the richest family on the block…they weren’t short of money…we had cars…multiple cars…if they were short of money…why didn’t they sell a few of those…or downgrade to a smaller house? Rather than leave their ten-year-old d-daughter to fend for herself. It hurts…it hurts to think about it…it hurts to talk about it” she sobbed.

“how often do you think about it? about what they did?”

“all the time…all the damn time…I don’t want to think about it anymore…I want to get on with my life without this burden hanging over my shoulder…I just want to be happy again...”

“what makes you happy Riley?”

“Liam…Liam makes me happy…he’s my real family, when I’m with Liam…he distracts me…I don’t think about the past…I think about my future with him…I think about the family we’ll one day have…” she smiled through the tears. “I know I’m going to have a good day when I wake up and see his face smiling back at me, he does this thing nearly every morning, where he’ll get out of bed, he’ll make me tea then place it on my bedside table with a little love note beside it” she smiled “I always wished that one day I would be all someone thought about…then I met Liam” she smiled “he’s…everything…to me”

“so why aren’t you happy?”

“my parents…came back…they ruined everything…I was happy…before they showed up…I was happy with my life with Liam…I was finally getting better, I wasn’t thinking about the past as much…I was focusing on my future…our future. Then they came back…I got angry…I broke down…that’s when I tried to hurt myself, I just wanted to end the pain…I couldn’t take it any longer…it was when I woke up that I realised I needed help. Before I had the chance to really speak to Liam about getting help, they…they came back…they took me against my will”

“what happened after they took you?”

“they…they put me in a room…a small room a-about the size of a closet…they locked me in, with no windows, no oxygen…I-I couldn’t breathe” she sobbed “they had a video camera, every thirty minutes for ten minutes they broadcast live across every channel…she suffocated me…” she wept “they tried to kill me…they wanted ransom…but Liam couldn’t, he couldn’t pay it, its Cordonia law that they must never give in to criminals like that, they must never give them what they want”

“did it hurt you that he didn’t give them the money when your life was at risk?”

“no…as the queen in waiting, I knew the law, I knew he couldn’t and I couldn’t expect him to, I told him not to, I didn’t want them thinking they could just walk in here demanding money and get away with it, I hoped he wouldn’t.”

“so how did you get out of the room? what happened after you got out?”

“the kings guard tracked me down…Liam and Drake were the ones who found me first…I wasn’t breathing when they got to me, the doctor said I must have stopped breathing just minutes before they got to me, Liam had to give me mouth to mouth…he saved my life, but when I woke up…I couldn’t remember them, my parents…every memory I had of them had gone…I didn’t remember a few other things as well…my engagement to Liam…finding the man who set me up…a couple of weeks went by and I still hadn’t remember, it was just yesterday that I finally got my memories back…but when they came back…it was like experiencing them all over again…my parents leaving…waking up finding them gone…living in new York alone, the effect of working three jobs, my engagement to Liam, finding Tariq, my parents coming back…the pills…them kidnapping me…being in that room, it all came flooding back at once and it was too much…Liam found me, in the bathroom, balled up on the floor…crying my eyes out, shaking…hurt…he sat down beside me and pulled me into his arms and he just held me…he listened to me…he listen to my pain and my hurt and he talked me through it. It was then that I told him I needed help.”

“what do you think is your main problem Riley?”

“I think…letting go…I have to let go of the past, learn how to accept it…I can’t change it, so I need to accept that it happened and move on, my parents…they committed treason, they were sent to their death earlier today…I think knowing that they can’t hurt me anymore is a huge help…knowing they can’t do anything to hurt me, is a relief, it’s like a weight off of my shoulders.”

“and how did you feel, when your parents were killed?”

“sad…but happy…I felt sad because…they…they were still my parents…they meant something to me at some point in my life…but I knew they had to be punished for what they did, I had accepted the fact that they had to be executed, I was happy because they can’t bother me anymore, I knew why it had to be done and I understood…maybe now I can start to accept what happened, and I can be happy again”

“I think you’re on the tracks of getting there Riley, you’ve opened up a lot today, most people come into the first session with their guard up…but because you want help, your open to letting me in, talking to me, and that’s a great thing because it means we don’t have to sit for three or four weeks trying to get you to open up to me. We will of course need more sessions but I’m positive you’ll find happiness again Riley…but I think that’s all for today”

“really? I feel like ive only been in here ten minutes”

“it flies by, do you feel like you’ve progressed today?”

“I do, every time I talk about it I seems to get that little bit easier”

“it will keep getting easier Riley, I promise” Ellen smiled, she collected her things then pulled her coat on, “now how’s about we make another appointment?” she smiled

“yes definitely”

“alright, how about the same time next week?”

“that sounds great…I’m really looking forward to our next session, if I feel this good after out next session…I’ll be content, I feel like a huge weight is being lifted” Riley smiled as the two women headed for the door. Riley walked Ellen down to her car, waving her off. once the therapist left, Riley quickly made her way to the royal quarters, as she walked in, she called for Liam.

“Liam! Are you here?” …no answer, Riley sighed as she made her way towards their bedroom, as she walked in the lights were out and there Liam lay on the bed…fast asleep. She knew he hadn’t been sleeping very well the last few weeks, with everything that had been happening, he just couldn’t. she slipped her shoes off then walked over, climbed into the bed, she lifted his arm then snuggled into his chest, letting his arm fall over her shoulder.

“how did it go?” he mumbled, not opening his eyes

“good…it was good…I feel…good” she smiled “thank you for contacting her…” she whispered

“I’m glad to hear that” he replied quietly with a slight smile on his face

“I love you Liam…you mean the world to me, I hope you know that” she seen a smile appear on his face, she leaned up and kissed his lips causing him to tighten his arms around her.

“I love you too riley” he whispered into the kiss.

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#trr #trr choices #trr fanfic #trr liam #choices trr #choices #playchoices #choices app #play choices fanfiction #playchoices fandom #playchoices fanfic #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #royal romance fanfic #king liam x mc #liam rys #liam x riley #liam x mc

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patricia-von-arundel · 6 years

Text

The Boarding House AU: Elsa & University

Rating: T

Summary: Shardsverse AU. After escaping a death sentence, and forced to come to terms with the idea that she can never return to Arendelle nor see Anna again, Elsa finds herself in the unexpected position of sharing a room with a poverty-stricken young scholar of magic…

Part I: Elsa & Alarik | Part II: Elsa & Christmas | Part III: Elsa & Romance Novels (I) | Part IV: Elsa & Romance Novels (II)

Elsa was doing better - and worse. And Alarik was at a loss.

The nightmares came every few nights, and he could see her terror, her desperation, but despite his own similar nighttime tortures - less frequent now, but far from extinct - he didn’t know how to help her.

He had always placed his faith in books, evidence, results - until the frightened young queen of Arendelle had arrived, and suddenly the variables were beyond his control. He just wanted to help her.

He wanted to protect her. To once, just once, not fail to do so.

But he had no right to do so. What he needed to do was find a better place for her - safer, more secure, cleaner and neater.

Until then, he instead took to visiting Mrs. Gustavsson’s bakery on the way home from work, in hopes they had stale chocolate croissants, and adding a few more drops of water to his ink, or blowing out the lights an hour earlier. Sometimes, he was lucky enough to find only Agne behind the counter in the bakery.

She had asked him, the first time he went in, “For the pretty young lady with gloves but no cloak?”

Alarik felt his face redden, but he nodded. “Elsa. Her name is Elsa.”

“A pretty name, too,” Agne said, and Alarik was glad his hair covered his ears as the flush moved north. But she might have seen anyway, when she leaned close to whisper, “Don’t tell Mother.” And she slipped another croissant in before tying the paper closed.

“Thank you,” Alarik said, with all the warmth he could infuse into a murmur.

And when Elsa whimpered and fought in the night, pulling him from work or from sleep, he lit a lamp, called her name until she found her way to consciousness - never touching - and hold out a croissant. She always took it, and usually managed a shaky smile.

It was more than enough.

They rarely spoke during those times. He did try - an awkward, uncomfortable, “Do you want to talk about it?”

But she shook her head. “No. But... thank you.”

He didn’t know what to do.

She didn’t complain, even when circumstances kept him late, running home with bread under one arm, whatever he could find that was cheap and filling under the other. She never complained about the food, the long days spent cooped up in cold silence, or about anything at all. he almost believed she feared what would happen if she dared to question the circumstances of her life - and considering what had happened when she had tried flee the role into which she had been born, such fears were understandable.

He understood far better than he was yet prepared to let her know. But for now, it seemed cruel to ask her to share that burden - he had agreed to take hers, with no understanding that she would do the same with his. And as January dragged on, and he saw some tiny, almost incidental improvements, it seemed quiet had been the best course of action.

The result of her frightened flight, the first day he had left her, seemed to be a reluctance to go out at all without immediate permission, no matter how many times he said it was not necessary, or however many piles of skilling coins he tried to leave for her use. So he took to coming home for lunch when he could - two days a week, at most three - to make sure she had a midday meal, and never mind how enticing was the enormous, roaring fires of the university reading rooms. She smiled now, usually, to see him, and that was a kind of warmth, too.

But better still, after her brave trip out, alone, into the blizzard, she sometimes asked - offered? - to do the same again. But she only did so if he was there when she left, and when she came back. He certainly wasn’t going to argue - it was frigid outside, the streets slick with ice - besides it being a sign he took as hopeful.

It had been a long time since he’d been responsible for someone, and never for someone as fragile and brittle as Elsa. But even he could see the pride in her eyes when she managed things for herself - or even better, for both of them. He liked seeing it.

She has inclination to push herself to exhaustion, her father had once written. She believes there is control in perfection, despite the impossibility of the latter.

In the years since - maybe just in the time from July to December, a scant few months - some part of her had cracked and fallen to fragments. If a trip to the shops might begin to glue her back together, if she could see herself accomplished in buying bread or a bottle of milk, then it became his job to encourage her. If she wanted perfection, let her be perfectly free.

By mid-January, she even sometimes returned with clear pride at finding a better deal than he had anticipated: “I know you said chicken was on special, but the herring was even better, for how much you get at the same price.”

And he wondered if he would ever stop being amazing by some of the things she did, completely unconsciously. “You worked that out on the spot?”

She looked to the side, but allowed herself to smile. “I’ve always been good at arithmetic. Poor Anna hated it.”

The herring lasted three days, where the chicken might have gotten them through two meals, and no more. He didn’t have to water down his ink that week, and there was enough left to buy her two small squares of chocolate on his way home.

“For helping me,” he said, self-conscious as he gave it to her.

“What?”

“The herring. I always just buy what’s most obviously cheap. But that... I had a little left over.”

“Really?” She took the chocolate - but instead of eating it, she placed it very carefully, still in its tissue-paper wrapping, on her tiny pile of personal belongings. There was half a chocolate croissant there too, and he hoped it meant she was getting enough to eat.

“Really. Thank you.”

Again, she wouldn’t look at him, but her smile was almost sunny. “I’m glad. Especially because... herring’s my favorite.”

“Even better,” he said, then added, “I like herring, though cod’s always been my favorite.”

She went to the market for him the next Saturday, and was gone long enough that he grew concerned - but how could he hope to find her in all the crowded stalls and people? If she needed help, would she have the courage to ask?

But the memory sent a chill through him, deeper than the frigid air: she had asked for help, before, and had trusted blindly an utter stranger. She said she hadn’t, and of course she had the means to protect herself, and it had turned out fine, but he couldn’t let things happen to her as they had once happened to him. The circumstances had not been ideal, but still, he had chosen this life. Elsa had been forced into it.

And he would never forget Anna’s letter, the last line before she signed her name: All that I know to ask is that you find her a place of safety, where I cannot.

He watched out the window - the one he already thought of as Elsa’s window - and hated his inability to do as Anna had asked. This was not a place of safety - this was poverty and rot and despair. Elsa deserved a warm, dry room of her own, good food served on china plates, security and love.

None of those things could exist, could survive, in the world Alarik had chosen for himself.

He had to find her somewhere else to go.

Especially since he had been here, already, for over a year - and, dutifully paying off past debts as he was, there was no way to avoid a trail, receipts and notes and bank letterheads, that would eventually be followed. He was six months, perhaps a year, from paying all he owed. He thought - hoped - that it would be easier to disappear then; they would have to ask questions, risk getting some in return, and as long as he wasn’t an outright threat - which he had no intention of being, whatever certain others believed - it might be deemed safer to leave him be. And then, perhaps things could improve: more money. Secure lodging intended for the long-term. Wood for the fire and a pantry for food and shelves for his books.

There would be, for Elsa, what Anna had asked.

But if his debts took longer than anticipated to be paid? If they found him before then?

She had been here for a month, and every day had been a threat to her. It was time to do as Anna had asked.

She finally came back flushed and happy, oblivious, it seemed, to the almost two hours she had been gone, and she looked so unburdened that he swallowed the desire to demand explanation. He got it anyway - she had a paper-wrapped parcel, and unfolded it, smiling, almost grinning, to show several small cuts of fish. “Cod!” she said. “The man cutting fillets said usually the pet-meat man buys the ends, but he’d sell me half a pound. And I had enough left for an onion, and the boy gave me a potato for free!”

She was so proud of herself. And he was astonished, again, not just at a free potato, but at her clear knack for thinking quickly and spending well. It didn’t seem likely she had been taught it - it wouldn’t be part of training for a king’s daughter any more than it had been for a duke’s son. And she had shown a talent, already, far superior to his own.

And so he grinned back, sharing her thrill, and pleased himself that she had not only remembered what he liked, but found a way to get it. Cod-ends for day-old chocolate croissants: it was a trade he would take.

But it’s still time to send her away.

He didn’t say anything. Not yet. They ate cod and onion and potato, and he slept, in his pile of blankets on the floor, for once with a full stomach.

He considered his colleagues at the university carefully, trying to gauge them in a manner never necessary before: who could be trusted with Elsa?

Not those who, like him, were still early in their careers - though most came from wealthy families, with no lack of money whatever the university paid them, Elsa would be a trifle to their likes, a temporary adventure until they grew bored or were expected to marry some socially-approved girl of highborn status - not as highborn as Elsa, but that was now, of course, a moot point. Alarik was well aware of the scorn most of them felt for him - they had no idea of his own aristocratic birth, and would remain ignorant of it; his research brought enough risk without inviting more.

And, too, there was the concern of her magic - of who could be trusted to know about it. He was one of few in his field - physical science - who found the investigation of what many believed to be a dying phenomenon worthwhile. The Tsandskiyi retreated further and further from modern civilization, and considering how they were still viewed and treated, was it really any surprise? Alarik had gotten to work with a small population in the remote lands between Austria and Russia, but no others had ever been willing to speak to him. The tiny human population with magic - like Elsa - were rare, often living in careful solitude if they survived to adulthood, and almost as distrustful of those who expressed interest in their strange abilities as the rest of the world was of them. They were born in uneven waves, but still, finding them in his present circumstances was all but impossible. Since earning his doctorate, he had expanded his research, of necessity, examining the historical appearances of what was called magic - but even more, he considered cellular properties in more accessible subjects; plants, mostly.

Shards cells had appeared groundbreaking, attention-getting research but not so very long after, he and everyone else in his academic circles had yet to find an real value to or use for their discovery. He had earned his doctorate, and had, since, done whatever he could just to keep himself afloat. The older academics, he thought, felt something akin to pity, but the younger ones, with their comfortable allowances and sizable donations made as they presented themselves for doctoral consideration, looked at him with derision. Because who was he to them? A poor scholar, Chaucer’s Clerk, who had managed a momentary glory and so was afforded a reluctant place among them.

If he was fair, maybe they were not all like that - but he could see none of them agreeing to give Elsa a safe place to live, a place where her nightmares might subside and her smiles come from more than buying cast-off ends of fish. A place where her magic would not be her defining characteristic - and her chains.

His oldest colleagues were equally unlikely. They generally fell into two categories: those who doddered, monotonous, through the same material they had been teaching for decades, and those who had turned to zealots, paranoid and mad-eyed. And why would any of them, most of whom had adult children and grandchildren, agree to take on Elsa? She couldn’t pay for the lodging, and neither could Alarik. Anna might be able to help, but that would put both her and Elsa in greater danger.

That left him with those ten or twenty years into their careers. Some of them, too, had families of their own, but just as many did not. He also wondered, briefly, if Elsa might make a good nanny or tutor, but the magic might be an issue. Still, he broached the topic after dinner one night in early February:

“How do you feel about children?”

She was sitting on her usual perch by the window, watching night fall over the city, holding her cup of tea from dinner, though it must have long since grown cold. She placed it on the sill before turning to look at him with her eyebrows raised. “Children?”

“Do you... like them?”

For a long moment, she just stared at him. “I... haven’t spent much time around them.”

He pushed his hair back from his eyes, mostly just to have something to do. “No, of course not.”

“Why?”

“I’m... trying to, uh... find a better place for you. Better than here. I thought maybe...”

“Oh.” She looked down at her hands, folded now across her lap. Her silk gloves were torn and stained, but still she kept them on. “I’m not safe to be around children.”

“You’re not...” But he swallowed back the rest.

Still, she shook her head. “I’m not.” She was still staring down at her hands.

A few days later, around midday, he was called out of a lecture by a very nervous-looking boy he didn’t know: “Dr. Andresson wants to see you, sir.”

Dr. Andresson was the head of the physical sciences department - Alarik had spoken to him perhaps twice in all the time he had been here. Alarik shared “office” space with three others in a tiny, windowless room; Dr. Andresson had a long, modern office, a secretary in the anteroom. That secretary looked curiously flushed as he looked up at Alarik and said, “Dr. Geatland? They’re just in there.”

He didn’t have any idea what to expect on the other side of the heavy door, but it certainly would not have been Elsa. She was on the straight-backed chair in the corner, her hands locked tightly together - and the room was noticeably chilly despite the fire. She glanced up and quickly down again, but even that was enough that he saw the fear in her eyes.

Dr. Andresson cleared his throat, drawing Alarik’s attention. “This young woman was asking for you in the porter’s office, Dr. Geatland.” Andresson was a heavily-built man in late middle age, confident of his own position in life - and Alarik’s much lower one. “Do you know her?”

Elsa looked like a reprimanded child, staring at her feet, still and silent.

“Yes,” Alarik said. “She’s... she’s my neighbor.”

Dr. Andresson nodded slowly, and steepled his hands before his face. “Mm. I see. That is the extent of your... ‘relationship’?”

Alarik felt the flush in his cheeks. “Yes, sir.”

“And what, then, is her business here today?” Asked as if Elsa could not give an answer herself, or was too far below his notice to be bothered with. Alarik felt a flare of irritation - at Dr. Andresson, but also at Elsa.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“You don’t know.”

“No, sir.”

The silence that followed was long and painful. Elsa was gnawing at her lower lip, brows knit, while Dr. Andresson watched her. When he cleared his throat once more, Elsa started, but Alarik didn’t think Dr. Andresson noticed the frost that bloomed on her skirt, beneath her torn gloves. She herself noticed, of course - her eyes widened, just slightly, and she quickly adjusted the folds of material to hide it.

“I suppose that this time,” Dr. Andresson said, “we will call it a warning. But I would advise you, Dr. Geatland, that if you intend to remain in academia, you would do well to pick your... neighbors... carefully.”

The flush had risen to his ears. “Yes, sir.”

“I will have the porter escort her out. You may go.”

“What were you thinking?”

Alarik had tried to tamp down his anger, his frustration - there was no reason it should be directed at her. And he might have managed it if the porter wasn’t such a damned gossip, so that word spread quickly and everyone was jesting him about “neighbors” all afternoon. Even more irritating, he hadn’t been able to come up with any better explanation or excuse for her presence.

But as he should have learned from the last time, she did not respond well to anger. She crossed her arms - tightly - and looked up at him with a face the portrait of a queen. “I was bringing you lunch.”

“What? Why?”

“Why not? You walk home for lunch several days a week. I was trying to... to return the favor.”

“You can’t do that!”

There was more ice in her voice than he’d ever seen from her hands: “Why. Not?”

He rubbed a hand over his face. How much more of this would there be - things he had never anticipated, things he had no way of knowing he needed to both consider and convey? “Women can’t... they’re not allowed on university property. Here, anyway.”

For a moment, she just stared at him - a rare occurrence. Two bright little spots of red grew on her cheeks. “That’s... that’s barbaric.”

He turned away from her, finally, to look at nothing in particular - the shadowy hint of a blank wall, all but lost to the onset of night - outside the window beside her. The anger and frustration, finally, were dissipating... leaving him at a loss. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”

There was too much she didn’t know - too much to keep up with. And he was tired, so very tired. Tired of trying to get by, tired of living in squalor, tired of struggling, tired of stress and uncertainty and most of all...

Most of all, he was tired of her.

He had always been terrible at hiding his emotions, and something of this must have shown on his face - she started to speak, but he shook his head, balling his hands to fists at his side. “I’m... I’m sorry, I... I think I could... use some air.”

He almost ran - desperate, suddenly, to be gone before she had a chance to respond. Heedless - and coatless - into the frigid cold, hands tucked deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched against more than just the bitter wind.

What would happen if he just never went back? He had done it before. Just kept walking. Refused to look back.

Icy streets, dirty snow piled and frozen against dirtier stucco, someone nearby shouting, the sounds of a meaty slap and a wailing child. A dirty, ugly city in a dirty, ugly world. Anywhere he went, it was more of the same.

He had never asked for this. For any of this. But most of all, he had never asked for Elsa. For broken, struggling, frightened Elsa.

No more than she had asked for him. Broken, struggling, frightened Alarik.

He stopped, shivering, beneath a broken street lamp. The word was gray - the buildings, the sky, the snow. In his mind he saw her: blankets pooled around her waist, holding a croissant, using both hands because of how they trembled. Her eyes finally meeting his, just briefly, and the tentative attempt at a smile.

But he had to stop thinking of her as helpless. He was the problem. And she had not asked to be here. She had not asked to be dumped into a wholly alien world - one where she was now trying so hard to understand and grow. Her father had written of her struggles, and she struggled still, but...

Cod! And the way that she had smiled.

He slumped against the lamp post. He wanted to cry.

Instead, he walked home again. And she turned to him, and he let the words come as they might: “I’m sorry. I’m... God, I’m sorry. I’m just... I’m an idiot. The whole administration and the rules are... are ridiculous. The whole thing is stupid, you’re right, you’re completely right, I had never even thought about it, but... I guess... what I’m trying to... to say is... thank you. And... and I really appreciate... all that you’ve done for me. I... I know it’s hard for you.”

A moment of silence - but he could have sworn, after, that he saw a ghost of a smile cross her face. “Apology accepted. And... you’re welcome.”

He did smile. He didn’t mind. And when she cocked an eyebrow and looked away, shaking her head, it only got wider.

The real problem, he realized later, waiting for sleep: not where he was going to send her... but what sending her away might do to him.

#frozen #frozen fanfiction #the boarding house au

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